An Unlikely Bride 5

They woke again huddled close, her back to his sternum, his left arm numb from a night's worth of scaly wife sleeping on it while his right gripped her thigh. From the position of her limbs it was rather obvious that she had made it this way, he couldn't feel her hugging his hand to her almost flat, breastless chest and the other kept him holding her down so she wouldn't float away. Not that he cared much about the handful of pudgy thigh, but he knew her bicep cushion would need to be confiscated and given life again.

An agonizing process, he groaned and rolled over from the pain as his arm flopped around limp and useless. Sympathetic crooning from her throat was her response, but when the problem stubbornly refused to go away she took to eagerly massaging the limb.

"That does not happen often," he grunted, a hand on his face to bear it. "Surprising you are heavy enough to do it."

She giggled and swatted her hip. "Anza make fat for husband."

While he recovered he looked her over with his brow furrowed with thought, but he realized she was joking when he thought of her peers. Males tended to be a big more muscled, more mass further up in the torso and definitely not endowed with such wide hips. Female kobolds however, having been so close to her and the others he could appreciate the slight exaggeration nature had give them in compensation for the lack of breasts. She saw him looking too, ogling her thighs and small paunch, her legs spread to give her husband a better view of his trophy. From the waist down and knees up she might as well been human, her tail raised as she crawled away and let him get a look at the rest of her too.

Before he could make a comment she returned with a skin and he happily took it, gulping down the water sweetened by his dry mouth and thirst. Thonvar wasn't greedy, he gave it back to her and clumsily leaned over to kiss her thigh as she drank, the pins and needles in his hand weren't enough to deter him from getting a handful of rump with it.

"Thonvar," she sighed, ruffling his hair, "husband need think. Not play."

"What's there to think about?" he asked, kissing her again. "Why do you have this?"

His finger poked at the thin dimple in the lower part of her belly where a button ought to have been. Maybe he answered his own question, she had feminine parts rather than the alien, bird-like alternative, and from what he could tell her not-button hadn't been used.

"Hatch egg, husband," she said with a roll of her eyes. "Why human have?"

"That's for the afterbirth, we do not hatch from eggs."

Squirming away she looked down at him and shook her head. "Anza know," she remarked, sitting up to get the bowl of water and rag from before. "Wash husband now."

"That's cold."

She looked at the rag and shrugged.

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After dressing they climbed out and stretched, parting company to answer a mutual call from nature, coming together again to walk in the morning's sun and into the scent of breakfast. With the day still quite fresh he felt good about their group's pace, so they went to the morning meal of simple bacon and bread and ate with the others. This was new for them, being out there as a couple among other people in a social setting that wasn't forced; it was only mildly uncomfortable. A few kobolds had paid Anza some careful attention, hands on her belly as before, she just smiled and nodded before retreating to the area of safety within his physical jurisdiction.

"Somethin' I wondered on, northman," one of the guards said in the middle of chewing, "how do you do it?"

"Do..." he realized the comment's subject, "that... I don't--"

Anza cut him off with a matter-of-fact, "husband grab and take, very big, strong human."

His blush certainly didn't help quiet the group's laughter, a passing southerner gave his back an encouraging slap and he didn't know what to say. Why did she tell them that? Even if the laughter was infectious and he nervously chuckled with them, he still felt deeply exposed and vulnerable. People were confusing, he didn't know if he should feel bad about the shame or if it was justified.

Yet his bride wasn't laughing, not like she laughed with him, her eyes were watching everyone else with a scrutiny he had only caught a glance of when the dwarves were near them. He wanted to talk to her about it, to know why, but if he waited until the only chance he got then it wouldn't be right. That was too bad.

"Gods bless you, northman, I was wonderin' this whole time."
"Wha? 'Bout how they do it?"
"Naw naw, on them there, lookit that one, think she likes me."
"Shite for brains she's gonna rob ye, jerk you off an' take yer purse!"
"Call it fair's trade, man's gotta go all in as deep as he can with an arse like that!"

Raucous laughter filled the air again, the men crowding around the jokester and shoving him around with backslaps and knuckles to the shoulder galore. Near the wagons, a pair of feminine kobolds watched them and Thonvar realized that the shorter, pudgier one was the butt of the joke. She didn't seem to mind, instead she looked square at the rude human and flicked her tongue out in a way that made Anza gasp in surprise.

"What?"

"Ohhh ho ho lad, she really does like you!" said one of the mercenaries, tossing a pinch of bread at the charmer in the yellow surcoat. "Ask the northman to give you some ridin' tips ho ho ho!"

"The tail's nice," Thonvar mumbled before his brain could stop him.

"Hahah! There ya go lad, lift it up an' hold on! Ain'tha right northman?" an older mercenary chuckled, joined by the others.

Okay, maybe the joking wasn't so bad, he thought. Saying nothing he smiled and put an arm around Anza, remembering to take a bite of bacon before it got too cold. Apparently that was hilarious, she didn't seem to mind it all and wiggled closer to him as she ate while watching the humans laugh at fool around.

Thonvar tuned out the conversation and looked around, most were off in little groups eating their meals with the exception of the elves who were probably hiding in their fancy carriage. They were the ones with horses, most other wagons had a mix of mules, oxen, donkeys, and a few tamed onagers that he had witnessed violently kick a man already. This collection of animals made their progress slow as a whole group, the only fast elements were the elven carriage and the hired cavalry troops on their nimble ponies. Kobolds seemed afraid of the horses, possibly because the horses stomped and kicked when they neared while everything else seemed to be uninterested in the scaly creatures.

He wondered if they had families. Maybe none of them were related or all of them were, he didn't see anything that might have told him the kobolds paired off like humans did. Then again they were on the road and it might not have been their way, they might have been whoever was loyal to Anza's father and within earshot when he announced he was going to the Reach or wherever to marry her off. A few of the males seemed interested in one or two of the females, the ones that looked like Anza with wider hips, thicker thighs, buttocks and tail; features that attracted humans as well.

Kobolds obviously had an idea of physical appeal, the scrawny wash maid was not given a passing glance by the buck kobolds as she sat alone. He had smiled at her once, her sickly, dull orange eyes flashed with surprise at a kind gesture and her eyelids fluttered like reptilian butterflies.

He didn't mind how she looked, but he had to admit that he found himself preferring the curves of his wife over any other.

One thing though, he did not see any kobold that neared what he might consider to be fat. Anza was one of the bigger females, but he knew that under the soft, comfortable handfuls of feminine appeal lay strong muscle packed in her small frame. That wasn't so different than his own people, nobody in the Reach could afford to get fat and live long to tell about it. They were energetic and tough, they worked together, celebrated together, suffered together; each man and woman knew how to fight, survive, and endure. Even highborns, bastard or not.

"Husband, show Anza how go?" his wife asked, catching him off-guard in his nostalgia.

"How go? You mean where we're going next?" he asked.

Beaming a smile she perked herself up and rewarded him with an affirmative kiss, he was slowly starting to understand her stunted vocabulary. That was fine, he had enough socialization and preferred being alone with her anyway. Still having some food left he split the bread open, crammed as much bacon inside as he could, and stood up to wait for her to copy his clever idea while he scarfed down the remainder. Thinking of the map put his mind in a mode to notice that they must have been out of fresh meat if they were into the bacon and salted beef already, it was not a good sign of things to come.

"We should get moving soon, at this pace we'll never beat the snows," he announced to nobody in particular. "This land is thick with bandits as well."

What else could he do? He didn't like such remarks, they felt underhanded and dishonorable, but he knew speaking the truth to save them a bitter fight was better than choosing his own comfort. Southerners knew nothing of the cold, winter snows that came off the mountains and he hated the thought of traveling through unfamiliar land in them.

Trees made him feel claustrophobic anyway.

Thankfully the wagon didn't have that effect on him, and it was good to see others getting ready for the day's journey instead of dawdling for hours like they seemed to do. Drond was already at work doing the same when they approached, Thonvar's contribution was mostly putting things up high where they belonged. Despite his attentiveness, the kobold driver just was not tall enough and had wisely waited for the human's tallness to save the day.

"Human see fire rock in sky?" the kobold asked. "Drond afraid, but make wish in case. Yes?"

"I think it was an evil sign," he bitterly muttered with an involuntary glance upward. "Had a strange dream, we both did, did you?"

"No, Drond try not hear human make egg with Anza," the driver snickered as he worked. "Drond not know if can be, human try good."

He blushed and flashed an embarrassed smile. "Sorry if we kept you awake."

"Human keep try, good time to make egg," the kobold declared.

Another blush! Anza happened to be walking around the wagon and caught it, she giggled softly and beckoned to him. No, he wouldn't be trying for eggs with her during the daylight and not if he knew their driver would be bothered. Regardless, her summons was answered and he settled himself into the wagon. Drond had been back there apparently, the skin was full and the dishes were gone, along with the bottle that he suspected was tucked away up front where nobody could see it. Just to test the theory, he undid the twine of the cover and poked his head out.

"Drond, did you take the mead?"

Hesitantly, the driver answered with a quiet, "yes."

"Next time would you ask?" Thonvar replied, somewhat unhappy. "I don't like--"

"Drond ask human, no worry, no worry! Hide gold too, hide under books, see? Count!"

Count? Of course he... No. Why would... A wave of unhappiness came over him as he realized that the inquiry seemed harsher than he intended, he had forgotten he wasn't talking to a human. Kobolds were always getting blamed for stealing and causing trouble, it sounded like Drond thought that was happening just then.

"We don't know each other, Drond," he began, thinking of his next words as carefully as he could, "but I will believe you think I accuse you of being a thief. I am not. Why would I need to count my gold if you are not a thief?"

"No, no, not Drond! Take mead, take take, not want!"

"I just want you to ask, I would not say no," Thonvar said as softly as he could, "you enjoy the rest of it this evening."

"Many thanks, yes yes, mead for later, yes!"

Thonvar left the twine untied and sat back down to wonder what was going through the kobold's mind just then, he could hear the excitable creature bumping around outside with a frantic pace. They did that when they were nervous, touching things, moving around, whispering to themselves, it made them seem shifty and untrustworthy which was probably not too far off from reality. Anza looked at him with an unreadable expression and he found himself wishing that he didn't have those feelings about her race.

Something there on her face told him she knew what he was thinking, she wasn't pleased about it, but she understood him.

"Anza I just want him to ask, I'm fine with it," Thonvar said with a smooth evenness. "Is this wrong?"

"No, husband," she sighed.

Fighting or being upset about it wasn't going to help anything, he crawled to her and gave her a soft kiss. Reluctantly she responded, but a moment later her tongue found it's way past his lips and she was willing him backward with his head softly cradled in her hands. That tension he didn't know he was wearing melted away under her lips, when she broke the kiss she fell into his arms and remained there.

"I do not like going into Rangvaal like this," he muttered, eyes looking at the horizon far away.

"Husband not want Anza?"

He shook his head. "That is not what I mean, wife. We are exposed and unprepared, this is bandit country."

"Thonvar kill Kthiszivalth, protect Hoki," she replied with a soft sincerity to her voice, sure of her words. "Husband strong, kill bandit. Protect Anza."

Without looking at her he smiled, the words melting his focus. "I would kill anyone that laid hands on my wife."

A kiss was his reward, planted underneath his chin like it was a wrapped gift fit for a jarl. From his experience so far he could tell she liked that, granting him kind morsels of affection, his mind went back to counted blessings again. For a lifetime's worth of things, he was fine with what they were carrying, but his most greatest prize of all cuddled against his chest with a happy, bestial warble. Yes, for all that might have been and could have happened, she was an agreeable wife so far.

An amazing lover as well, his skin flushed hot thinking of what feminine power she had when they came together. Carnal thoughts in a strong-blooded man about his wife inevitably turned to the purpose of their blissful union, he thought of how she received his gift and wondered if it was possible. Could she...? That was what he was supposed to do, sire strong children so his people would never perish from Anor's harsh steppes.

They wouldn't be reachfolk. People of the Reach did not hatch from eggs; chickens, ducks, fish, birds, all sorts of creatures, these were the things that came from eggs. Kobolds came from eggs.

They wouldn't be kobolds either, he simply could not bring his mind to accept these fantasy offspring of his as belonging to the kobold race. What he imagined were wildly different than his wife's form; tall and strong, maybe they might have scales, he hoped they had her glowing eyes and perhaps a brilliant mane of fire like him to mark them as cousins of his people. How would they grow? Eggs were so small, he didn't know how something so tiny could even grow into a kobold much less a... halfling. That's what they would be. Halflings.

Not so bad, he thought, to help bring into the world people like that. There were many halflings that were quite respectable, he had met half-elves that had their grace, intelligence, and beauty as positive traits and not weapons or points to brag about. One time he even met a halfdwarf, she was short and somewhat elven, but he knew instantly that she had the same blood he did by the fire in her hair. Instead of a bow she carried the mechanical contraption of her mother's people, on a journey to bury the bones of her father at the Highrock Cairn, she turned down his offer of guidance and remained alone. Strong.

Yes, he could see himself fathering halflings.

"Thonvar!"

His attention was snapped back to reality, his wife face to face with him. "What?"

She motioned over the wagon.

An elf.

"What do you want?" Thonvar asked with a sigh. "I'm sorry, I was thinking of something."

"Yes, of course, a sign of a wise and noble mind when the trivialities of day to day life fade away into obscurity, I myself--" he realized the human was staring at him, "right, terribly sorry. I, we, were wondering if you wished to dine with us this evening."

"We?"

"Arbanuil and myself," he replied, somewhat taken back. "Who else?"

Thonvar shrugged. "I don't even know your name, how could I know who 'we' is if I don't even know you?"

"Oh. My apologies, I am Elnaril, executor of Her Majesty Viralyna, queen of Streydor and the Espean Islands. We were your distant allies, surely you've... No, you clearly haven't."

Truthfully he thought that the human kingdom of Athana was their ally to the south, the ones that begged the Reach for men and to keep the north free of marauding bands that might slip past the dwarves at Izvudrunz and pour into the south that way. They tried, Thonvar had led war parties on horseback all over the open grass and hard rocks to watch over the southerners naked backs.

Elves never, ever came into the equation.

"I just rode a horse and protected my home."

"Yes, quite the rider you are I'm told, so about this evening I was think--"

Thonvar interrupted the elf and bluntly said, "I need to ask if my wife wants us to have dinner with you."

Actually he was looking to her for guidance, something told him she knew better than he did about how to handle the elf's proposition. They looked at each other for a moment, her expression changing from annoyance to surprise and finally into concern, those big, pink eyes looked at him like... Like a mother would, or what he imagined that looked like, she read him like he read her and he hoped that she saw how confused he was. Why would an elf want to have dinner? They had their carriage, he had his wagon, it worked, if anything he felt like telling them to stop asking stupid questions and hurry up before it started to snow.

Instead of replying in broken words, she spoke at the elf in her own tongue with even confidence. Even though he couldn't understand the words at all, he still payed close attention to her. Mostly his eyes fell to her body's tenseness as she spoke, her tail twisting in the open air, and he could see she was suppressing something. Yet waist and above, everything the elf could see as she stood there speaking, was hollow and fake to emphasize her incomprehensible point.

What was genuine though, was how she moved to him and pressed herself against his torso. He didn't deny her the arm around her that she deserved, the elf looked between them and seemed a bit scandalized by whatever it was she was telling him.

"I'm terribly sorry, I didn't know you had made other... plans!" the elf finally said, addressing first Thonvar and then looking to them both. "I applaud your devotion to each other, typically these arrangements are sometimes expected to fail due to the, how shall I say it, difficulties involved."

His words were insincere, something about the part about failure expectations made Thonvar's fists want to punch the mer square in the jaw. A few things came to mind to say, but Anza made them vanish as she forced her kiss on him with a two-handed grip on his neck. She said something else to the elf, something about the human, it seemed to provoke a certain anger in the high-strung ass that remained veiled behind a fake smile.

"Very good then. Well as you've said already, we had better head off before the first snows. Only a fool would ignore such advice on the weather from a northerner in his own lands, I must admit our pace was a concern of mine as well. Until next time."

Just as quickly as he came the elf was gone, Thonvar's eyes were on the tall mer's back as he muttered, "uh huh."

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Shortly after that they started moving, he didn't get a chance to ask her what their conversation had been about and she refused him when he had a brief opportunity. There was a lot of work fixing the wagons that broke down, one was so bad that the thing collapsed to the side and tumbled down into a shallow crevice. They had spent an hour before he called it, they'd never get it out and the wagon was broken anyway so it was useless. At least they could salvage parts and whatever was on it, and the only injuries were a few scuffs and bruises on the driver and some from the mules being startled.

Explaining why it happened was another matter entirely, it didn't make sense that a carriage, two ox-carts, and three donkey carts had gone over that spot safely without any issue at all. As he was climbing out he shook his head at the damaged road, the caved in portion looked so out of place compared to the rest of it. Like some giant shovel had come by and scooped it out, and somebody had just taken the stones and put it over top.

He sighed and heaved to pull himself up, but at the last second he saw a pair of wooden support blocks wedged under the pavers on either side. Almost as if somebody had come by and deliberately-- A horn blared from further up, three short bursts followed by a long one. He saw why too; at the top of the ridge on the opposite side of the road was nearly twenty men, sun at their backs, jumping down the hillside and toward the hapless caravan below right in the middle. Right where Anza was!

That time he moved with purpose, heaving himself up and rushing for his wagon while Drond struggled and fumbled to get the rusty iron dagger stuffed under the seat.

Thonvar grabbed the kobold's collar and hauled him up and over the edge. "Stay in the wagon and don't let anyone in."

Covering the top again he ran around the other side and practically dived for his sword, the scabbard wasn't necessary so he just yanked on the hilt and pulled it free. Good thing too, a bandit vaulted over a boulder and landed right there, his eyes wild with excitement, fear, bloodlust, he locked his gaze right on Thonvar's hard blue eyes and raised his arm up with a half-cocked smile of bewilderment.

It stayed there when Thonvar lurched forward and ran him through, his left arm locked with the man's right, the sword twisted side to side before the man was discarded with a shoulder to the chest. His face was surprised then, pained, he put up a hand to protect himself.

Four fingers leapt free from their knuckles as the gilded blade bit through and into the man's face, he gurgled and gasped as Thonvar yanked the tip hard from hewn bone and charged forward. Instead of just a sword he had a hand axe too, confiscated and put to better use, he was no good with an off-hand throw so he stabbed his trusty blade into the spokes of the wheel and switched.

Somewhere in all of that somebody had looked up to see him just in time to see an axe whistling at them, it struck beard-first in a one in a million shot and buried deep in the man's eye socket. He screamed and dropped his weapon to pull it out. A kobold sprang from a nearby wagon and mid-air stabbed him in the neck.

No time to look, Thonvar did a quick scan and saw a pair of men scrambling across the turned-over wagon with spears in their hands. He liked spears. Grabbing the sword he mounted his own wagon and glared up ahead, it would take some--

"YAAAAH!!!"

A clumsy spring back sent him tumbling to the hard stone below, his sword clattering to a stop underneath the wheel, his attacker bumbling up and over his wagon shouting like a moron. There was no way to get to his longsword and it couldn't block a giant battleaxe in a downward chop anyway, so he just rolled away and scrambled against the wagon's side to stand up. His hand grabbed a spade handle. He yanked the damned thing off and swung wildly in the direction of his opponent.

*TONK!* "Eeeagh!"

He swung again and harder, the blade happily ringed as the skull strike plucked it with an off-key thud and the man recoiled with a grunt. Thonvar looked at the spade, spun it, and swung again. It did not ring. His tongue caught a wad of tasty blood.

His heart raced and he dove for the sword, that time charging with real fire in his gut.

A pair of kobolds were struggling with one of the bandits; one was hitting it with a wooden bowl, the other was being strangled. He moved toward them to help, but a man collided with him and bounced him right off a wagon, in Thonvar's was the business-end of a fist clutching a short, southern-style sword. You spent too long in the wilderness, he thought as he looked into the bandit's eyes; his bacon-fed strength was overpowering.

A scream of pain and fear left the bandit as his wrist snapped one, two, three, a wooden edge providing leverage to push a bone through tired skin.

His gilded blade tasted another's blood, drove in from down low while the enemy was distracted and broken. It was stuck from going so deep.

That strangled kobold's eyes were rolling back as the bandit beat her head into the cart, the other kobold screamed and cried as she tried broke the bowl in two. Then huge human hands red with blood took a piece, the edge as sharp as it had to be, driving it deep into the bandit's neck with a guttural roar, his blue eyes wide with rage and effort to make the wood deep as it could go.

Blood sprayed everywhere, it was hot and sticky, full of fresh life spilled all over the survivors and savior.

Spears. Thonvar abandoned the mess and put a boot in his other kill's crotch, both hands on the hilt as tight as his bones would allow before he yanked the blade free and clear. A bolt of hot magic shot over the landscape, then another, he turned around to see the carriage erupting in gouts of blue electrical arcs and balls of conjured fire into hapless bandits that screamed and tried to flee. A spearman ran at him, afraid, he dodged the thrust with a twist of his torso. *Whack!*

Blood in his mouth again, this time his freshly-split lip was the culprit.

That thought happened simultaneously as his firm grasp on the wooden shaft, a mighty heave brought the spearman closer into the zone he was vulnerable in and he had nothing to stop the bite of steel into his hands and neck. Thonvar didn't stop, he yelled high in his lungs and brought another strike down on the shoulder, and another, a wad of fatty flesh peeled back and exposed the gout of red from between a lattice of white.

Another killed man discarded to the side, bouncing down the hill. With spear Thonvar had reach, he could go far, his eyes searched for something to murder.

A sellsword lay dead on the ground, a wooden pole capped with feather flags topped his chest.

Thonvar's eyes darted side to side, then up, he saw him there. A weird man-shaped figure, but with a tail. His hands worked a bow, ready to kill again, but the reachman vaulted up a wagon and dropped his sword there. Spear in right, arm up, shoulder set, back taut, his eyes narrow as he gauged the how-far and how-high of his prey.

His muscles might have well been a bowstring; the spear climbed so high with the mighty throw that, for a second, it looked like it might pierce a hole in the sun behind.

When it struck the target it had weight, momentum, the creature's bow shot went wild as his torso twisted to keep himself planted up there. A whole spin later and his tail did nothing to stop him from tumbling down, every damned rock on the way caught him with wet crunches and loud pops as the soft skull bounced off the tougher stone.

"God's bless, what a throw!" somebody yelled.

Thonvar grabbed his sword and hopped down.

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They had access to a spring after a few miles of travel, but he had managed to get most of the caked grime off before then anyway. Anza insisted he bathe though, so three gold coins paid to the kobolds using a giant wooden tub on a flat wagon for a shelter bought them the vessel. She insisted this purchase was smart, but he didn't fully believe her estimation to be that accurate. They could still use it as shelter when Anza wasn't using it as intended, the original occupants decided to help her fill the thing to see what the fuss was about.

Everyone thought she was going to dunk him cold, but she surprised them all, even her husband, when she began baking rocks and dumping them in the tub one by one until it started to steam. Oh he knew where she got the idea, apparently it impressed her enough to recreate the washbasin on a much grander scale. Their wagon was pulled up to block the view from the rest of the camp, tent poles were erected on the far side for Drond, and with that she confiscated the clothes and... Started scrubbing him standing up.

Her plan was not finished, when she was satisfied with his cleanliness she made him get in and get settled.

Then she climbed on top of him, getting to work on proving why it was three coins well spent.

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Cleaned and content, they were happy in the safety of their wagon and basking in the afterglow of her demonstration when one of the southerners came up and asked them to use the tub. He offered to pay, of course, it was their tub after all and the water was still mostly good according to him. With a coy grin the kobold accepted the human's coppers and plopped them in a spare leather pouch. Another showed up when he left, coppers in hand, then another, another, and another. Eventually it was Drond's responsibility on Thonvar's insistence, every new customer brought an I-told-you-so look that she fired at him.

Fine, he was wrong, he didn't care to argue about it and he just wanted his wife under the furs. What a day!

Drond was told not to charge the grave diggers; no kobold had been fatally wounded so far, but five guards perished during the fighting or shortly after before anyone could help. They also received fresh water, actually it seemed to suit the kobold to pluck the hot stones with a shovel and toss them in with a loud sizzle.

Something in that sizzle, or in her warmth, made his head cloudy and eyes heavy.

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"Thonvar," she whispered, kissing him softly.

He blinked awake, his eyes refusing to play nice until he caught sight of the glowing orbs. Day had come to them, he hadn't remembered sleeping at all, but the sky far off in the east radiated in the same inviting way as she was looking at him. Was it a week yet? A week of marriage and she was already waking him? He chuckled to himself and snuggled into the scaly pillow.

"Are you heavy with eggs yet, my wife?"

With a sigh she slapped her belly and shook her head. "Need more husband. Want Anza?"

"Husband want sleep," he murmured, rocking her back and forth in his arms. "Anza wake husband."

"Dummy, not say like Anza," she hissed, swatting his chest. "Say smart like Thonvar."

Smart. Like Thonvar. He laughed and stretched out his sleepy muscles with a full-body effort, he wasn't as smart as she thought. Actually it seemed like she was the clever one, thinking of the business venture all on her own. At first it seemed like a fluke when that first one came up, but that look she had... Oh she knew exactly what she was doing, he would need to keep an eye on her.

She had her eyes on him, that was for sure. "Tell Anza think."

"You want to know what I'm thinking?" A slow, deliberate nod confirmed it. "I was thinking that my wife might be the smart one."

"What wife?" she asked with exaggerated looking around. "Anza? Smart Anza? Husband say dummy, hurt of head, Anza not smart."

"Don't lie to your husband," he chided with a vulpine grin. "I like it. With the knife-ear, earlier, I wanted to say my thanks."

Mischief left her eyes, leaving something he couldn't describe and her lips curled up and a gentle smile as she nuzzled his nose. Something was underneath though, an uneasiness about the subject, he wondered what things she knew about their "companions" and why they bothered her. He didn't want to say it, but that package his father left her suddenly seemed very relevant.

"Husband remember first day? Anza tell we be best married. Thonvar look sad, not know how say," she rubbed his cheek, "Anza fix, protect Thonvar."

"I don't need you to protec--" A nip from her teeth shut him up.

"Anza protect Thonvar," she declared with slow nods on each deliberate syllable. "Need husband safe."

"I need my wife safe," he sighed, hugging her in frustration. "I'm supposed to protect you."

Disagreement, he could feel it in her as she pushed against him until his shoulder was her new pillow. Words were inside her head and they wanted to come out, but he knew she could barely speak as he could. Since he couldn't hope to master her language, he decided to at least expand her foothold on his own if only to get rid of that look she had. It reminded him of a sabercat stalking outside a town, making wide circles as it watched the juicy people and animals inside, cursing it's limited power in the world. He was beginning to hate that look, she wore it quite often and he was going to wipe it off her face.

"Anza."

"Husband?"

His hand found hers. "What is this?"

"... Husband grab Anza."

"No," he began, holding her small hand up high, "we are holding hands."

She blinked and watched his eyes.

"We. Are holding. Hands."

Her brow furrowed. "Husband holding Anza."

"No, we are holding hands."

She plucked her hand from his grasp and slapped his chest. "Dummy. Stop say."

"I want you to say it too," he said firmly, grabbing her midsection as he did so, "this is holding you, to me."

Anza shook her head and scowled at him, but eventually she relented and considered the instructions. Maybe her language didn't make the distinction, or maybe the subject had to be direct on the hands for it to make a difference. As far as he knew nobody in his part of the world bothered to speak to kobolds, they knew enough Naethic to hold a conversation in most human lands. Her grasp on it was only a little worse than most, but he reminded himself that it could always be worse.

"Thonvar hold Anza," she said with a glance down, then she took his hand and clasped it tightly, "Anza hold husband hand."

He smiled. "Better."

"Why care?" she asked, putting his palm on her bare chest. "Can know Anza say..." she trailed off and smirked, "Anza know."

"You will get better, and that not happen again. Do you forget the words?"

She nodded.

"I will help you," he promised while stroking the silky scales. "This is how it has to be."

Getting her to speak to him easier would help a lot, it was somewhat exhausting to wonder so much about somebody and have them right there willing to talk but unable to do it. Physically showing him was more her way, it seemed to work quite well sometimes, but he was wondering about that too.

"Anza, do you find me attractive? Be honest, I am thinking about something I want to ask you."

Blinking slowly she cocked her head and looked him over. "How attractive?" she asked, her fingers running over his face. "This way?"

"Any way, touch your favorite parts of me. I want to know."

His wife looked confused at first, then she regarded him with a dubious expression and sat up on an elbow. At first he thought she was going to protest and refuse to play along, but a tense moment of indecision gave way to her gently caressing over his eyes. Then she touched his jaw, chest, that reminded her to ruffle his hair, and then she ran her fingers over his bicep with a small grin. Hesitation came and she peeled back the covers, her small hand gripping him firmly and she grinned when it responded.

"I do not want to admit this, but that... Is best left for later," he sighed.

"Anza want later," she added with a kiss before flopping the furs back over him. "Show what husband favorite?"

"Can we later?"

Giggling softly she nodded and laid back down. "Tell Anza what think."

"I know what you like on my body now, but I do not know why you let me," he paused and couldn't help but turn a shade of red, "mount you, like I do."

Back to looking confused, a hand up as she shook her head with an audible scoff. "Thonvar... husband. Mount Anza for make eggs. For happy."

"Pleasure, you mean."

"Plezzurrre," she mumbled the unfamiliar word. "This for husband, Anza give gift."

"Why?" he asked, "you barely know me."

"Why mount Anza? Barely know," she retorted, giggling at the ease he fell into it. "Thonvar want under tail, Anza want meat."

Urges for mischief provoked him to ask, "does it please you that much?"

Laughing softly she swatted his chest and kissed him. "Husband know, make Anza..." she put a hand to her head, miming the top being opened, "too big pleasure."

Being told he was big made his ego soar, he didn't know what to do with that surge in confidence! Of course he was big, he thought, she was a kobold and wasn't made to couple with something like him. Thankfully her race had a resilience to them, she was... Flexible, in many ways, able to accommodate his needs and then teach him he had others. Those thoughts must have been betrayed by his expression, she giggled as she watched him and laughed when she made him smile. He liked that about her.

"I know we talk of... that... but I just had another thought. I think I am very glad to have you for my wife, Anza."

"Glad to have Thonar husband, he best male all kinds."

"Even kobolds?"

With wide eyes she nodded quickly, topping it with a little chuckle. "Anza," she mimed passing something to him, "many male, not like kobold king."

He looked at her with a raised eyebrow. "King? My bride was offered a king's hand and she chose mine?"

"Not chose," she corrected and tapped a claw to his chest, "Anza like Thonvar."

"I understand."

She shrugged and planted a kiss on his chest before snuggling herself against him, but he wanted something more out of that. Turning to face her, he awkwardly had to maneuver himself around and eventually was forced to settle himself on his back again. She scowled and swatted him for his foolishness, her eyes shut as she tried to go back to sleep. Normally that would have annoyed him, her having woken him up after all, but he was contented by their conversation and decided to let the irritation go.

Maybe she had a bad dream, he thought as he closed his eyes.