An Unlikely Bride 6

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That day he spent the trip sorting the bits and pieces of things he had salvaged from the raid, all the while an eager kobold hovered over him to provide her "guidance." What it really was, and he knew it would happen this way, was her absolute reluctance to throw literally any of it out. At first it was somewhat funny, but when he insisted they didn't need the death-worn leather and fur clothing she became insistent. Then angry. That was the first time she had been truly angry at him, not merely frustrated or annoyed, but so furious that her teeth bared when she snarled harsh words.

Others had become aware of it, it was hard not to hear the commotion, and the embarrassment made him fold as the conversations and road chatter ceased. That did not stop her from her fury, he went to bed and woke up with a few inches between her and him. During the next day she kicked him out entirely, but it wasn't so harsh as the inevitable breakdowns gave him plenty to do.

It was when he tried to crawl back in, that's what angered him. She had barricaded herself in and told him she wasn't ready, he assumed it was about her anger that made her pink eyes trade their allure for harsh malevolence. She was up to something, as kobolds often were. Part of him was kicking himself for doing wrong, but there was a greater part that was just confused by the behavior. What had he done wrong? He didn't know and by the third day of his total exile he had become bitter about the whole ordeal. Whatever idiotic thing she was upset about wasn't important enough to do this, no, she was just being petty.

Maybe the elf was right.

... That seemed too much.

She was the only person he had talked to during the whole ordeal, it was almost a week's worth of fighting and over what? He needed a new perspective, something he did upset her on a deep, fundamental level and he was convinced it just wasn't a problem he could out-think. Who to talk to about it? How? That was a question that had been nagging at him for hours, he lost himself in all the ways he could raise the question to a complete stranger without sounding desperate and stupid.

"Human want?" a voice croaked.

He looked over at the source: a kobold with a bruised neck and swollen, discolored face was holding out a piece of fried jerky to him. From the injuries he surmised it was the one he had saved, she wasn't expected to survive that night. He remembered killing the man, putting the shard of used-up wood into his neck, fighting against a torrential spray of hot blood... As that moment spilled into his head his nose took in the ghost of that stench, it almost made him forget to take the offering. Which one was she again...?

"Thanks. I have forgotten your name," he said as he bit into the food, the char and beef appealed more to her race than his. "I am sorry."

"No sorry, am Khezde."

"Here, you need to drink for that throat," he replied, giving her his skin of mead, "I am pleased to see that you lived."

"Me too," she murmured with a gulp. "Hurt, is not so bad. Can talk to human."

He sighed. "At least somebody is."

"Anza make human sleep outside? No love?"

Of course she knew the answer to that, but even so he still answered, "no, but it is a bit early for love. For us."

Khezde sighed and shook her head. "Mean this love," she patted her hips, "good wife has fire, we dragonblood, but gives to mate for making... egg. Khezde sorry, forgot human."

"I don't want that kind of 'love' from my wife. I want her to enjoy our time in this world, not suffer under me."

From elsewhere in the wagon there was a rattling followed by the sound of string on canvas, it heralded a pair of pinkish-orange eyes poking up from the covered abyss. Then came a head, it was a younger female that regarded him curiously for a few seconds.

"Name Thonvar, yes?" she asked, eyes squinted with an unsure expression.

"Yes, I am Thonvar, son of Kargru--"

"Ah! Yes, yes, am Kix!" she chirped with a warm giggle. "Like humans, so tall make big, big city. Thonvar like city? Kix love city!"

"I don't often go, I prefer--"

"Never let kobold go in, but sneaky kobold not care on human say no."

"Yes, I have heard," he muttered, suddenly wanting the conversation to be over with.

"Kix, quiet now!" the older female hissed as she readied her fist. "Khezde sorry, hatchling learn bad."

Hatchling? Looking from one to the other he saw the similarities right away, even in her swollen state the elder kobold's face had strong lines and a pair of small horn nodules at the bends of her jaw. They both had them, matching the off-black hue of their horns that jutted backward a short ways. They looked a bit more masculine in the face, at least to him, but the males had more horn structure that was denser and more curled. Perhaps they looked like beautiful maidens?

Well the elder one certainly had a figure, he looked away quickly when his eyes fell on her wide hips. "I see the resemblance now, I might not have noticed earlier."

"Human look alike too, can only tell if hair is not same," she replied with a pained chuckle. "Always look at--"

"I can tell!" Kix interrupted.

"As long as I can find my wife," Thonvar said plainly. "That is all I care about."

"You care about Anza?" Kix asked, her face dropping. "Sad human, want Kix tell Anza to stop?"

He perked up and looked at her with hopeful eyes.

Khezde put a stop to that with an angry grunt in their language. "That not work, she mad at human for long time."

"I don't know why she's angry!" he blurted out, "I don't understand it!"

Sympathy contorted her bruised face and she weakly smiled, but her words didn't help him as she softly croaked, "Anza mad because human wasteful, kobold never have much. Need to learn to live as kobold now, human way for Thonvar no more."

"Wasteful? What do you mean?"

She only laughed and said, "go tell Anza you sorry, it fix, trust old Khezde."

All he could do was stand there as they rolled away. How was he being wasteful? They had space for only so much stuff, why would he waste it on junk and refuse? Was that all they cared about? If they didn't have much they shouldn't focus on filling their tents and caves with absolute nonsense, building and collecting mountains of worthless trash everyone else threw away. Maybe if they spent more time getting things, good things, and working hard to make their things better then they wouldn't be the ugly jokes of the world.

Kobolds were so damned stupid, he could not believe the absolute idiocy he was surrounded by as wagon after wagon of morons rolled onward.

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Karvjen's Bridge.

It was a marvel of the ancient world, when the Reach was barely tamed and the dragon cults still reigned supreme in the land. A span of thick, hand-cut stones imbued with ancient runes and reliefs depicting the era's most incredible sagas. Some said that dragons helped build it, the stones were too large for even ten thousand men to move, and how were they stacked so high? How could they be suspended in the air while the spans were laid? He had been there once before when he was quite young, traveling with his father to an ancient ceremony in the forestlands of Rangvaal at a temple even older than the bridge.

Like then, he looked at the monolithic stones that made up the bulk of the structure and thought they resembled vertebrae. Three of them, each one ending in gigantic boulders cut to shape that formed the tops of the two spires or either end of the span. Even if dragons, the mountain giants, all the humans in the Reach, and whatever other mythical things that were said to have helped with the building, it still would have been difficult.

They had made camp on the Reach side, if bandits were going to raid them they would at least be within sight of the hold's guards. There was a tavern there with a sauna as well, with reluctance he managed to convince Anza they needed to bathe and took the smaller room for their own.

Kobolds seemed to enjoy hot steam just as much as humans did, he admired her as she sat naked on the bench. She noticed.

Her legs spread a bit wider.

He knew she was still angry at him when he fell to his knees in front of her, a predatory glint flickered in her eyes as he assmed the position she wanted. Guilt had crept it's way into him again and he sighed, hands on her thighs, resigning himself to being punished and defeated.

"I'm sorry."

"Quiet, husband," she murmured, running her hands through his damp hair. "Anza not care."

"No, I mean I'm sorry. For... Deciding for us, for not consulting you. I was trying to," he looked up at her, "decide only what we could use, we are traveling. I think of weight. We will be slow if we carry too much."

"Slow?" she asked, the look gone and replaced by wonder. "Thonvar think too hard."

"Please forgive me, Anza," he begged, not sure what else to do.

Expecting her to go cold again, he was surprised to see her scowl and shake her head in... a way he knew came from frustration, but her posture was willing to communicate. Learning from their last conflict he waited for her to work through it, he hoped she would say something he could understand. He wanted the fighting to stop.

After a minute of silence she finally looked down at him and nodded, leaning forward to kiss and melting that tension he carried. He really missed her a lot, he was surprised at how much he missed her. Shame from it all was tough to bear, their fight had become public knowledge and he hated other people knowing that sort of thing; being on the "inside." Here she was though, coming back to him, he grabbed handfuls of kobold rear and thrust her close to him.

Their kiss didn't stop, it just got more intense as her legs wrapped around the middle of his torso to keep herself on him. Gods that felt so good, his hands went against her scales and up her back to hold onto his little wife, he didn't want her to go away again. His body responded too, she dropped her tail and batted it to the side as she giggled into his lips. He didn't mind, she could abuse him as long as he didn't sleep alone again, he missed her warmth during his grassy exile.

Letting him go she looked into his eyes, the affection and warmth of a wife there again. "Anza sorry," she whispered.

"I forgive you, Anza."

She looked away. "Feel sad treat Thonvar bad."

He nudged her nose on nose until she looked at him. "I forgive you."

With a new fire she slowly kissed him with an invading tongue, playing along his own, her dainty hands cupping his jaw while he set her down. She was just out of reach so he moved to complete their union, his fervent excitement coupled with an emotional need for her just was too much for him to deny.

She giggled and put her feet up on his thighs, stopping him completely. "No husband."

He leaned back slightly with a pang of hurt in his chest. "Why?"

Then she completely surprised him. With slow, seductive motions she slid away from him and to other wing of the L-shaped bench; her sinful grin wide as she raised her tail to him. His heart did a backflip in his chest, he had to gulp to keep from drooling.

"Anza hurt husband. Husband turn hurt Anza," she purred, wiggling her feminine anatomy in the air for him. "Thonvar give strong to Anza."

Yes, that was a fair proposition.

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He woke up, his eyes up on the ceiling. Where was he...

Anza was already up, squat over a washbasin, wincing as she washed herself.

Then he noticed how red the water was, his eyes went wide right at the moment she noticed he was awake. There was something else in there, floating in the water, he moved to see what it was and she hissed in annoyance and shame. What was wrong?

"Stay husband, Anza go bed soon."

Bed? He looked around the room and noticed that it was boards and not canvas, and it had rafters and battens at a slant. His memory was beginning to return, they had been evicted from the sauna and moved to a private room to continue with their romantic encounter. Pain reminded him of the night's activities, she had taken to biting and scratching and he... did that to her. Struggling with the woolen blankets he crawled out of bed and went to her, feeling shamed and useless to fix a mess he caused.

Looking at him she eventually figured out his thoughts. With a soft kiss she murmured, "Anza have fun, husband like?"

"I did enjoy punishing your foolishness, wife," he admitted with a shy grin. "Hurting you was--"

He was cut off by her tongue, his brain told him it was a gentle encouragement to be quiet. Since she was in pain he agreed, it was his duty as a husband to provide her comfort, so when she needed something to hold on to he did not mind her vice-like grip on his hand. Yes, he had caused her pain, but after every... whatever it was she was doing she smiled at him with thankful eyes. Inside he yearned to help her, it felt a little foolish to be so useless like that, and when he thought about it the strangeness of it all made it harder to bear. All of it was so confusing, had somebody told him a year ago that he would be sitting with his kobold wife in a tavern while she--

A loud plop in water caught his attention as she sighed and relaxed her shoulders.

Sitting in the basin was... Something. Two somethings, with some leathery debris floating here and there. Perhaps it was the early hour, but it took him an embarrassingly long time to realize what he was looking at.

"Are those... eggs?" he asked, panic rising in his chest. "Did I break--"

"Husband. Stop."

He breathed hard through his nose, a tingling sensation of worry and panic swirled up his back and into the top of his head.

"Thonvar, look at Anza," she commanded, smiling softly when he did so. "Yes egg, husband break."

"I'm sorry..." he blinked hard, unsure of what to do, "Anza, I'm sorry."

"Husband not make sorry," she whispered as she pulled him to her shoulder. "Not Thonvar egg."

"Not... Then where did it--"

"Husband, egg small, how kobold fit? How human fit?"

He shook his head.

"Thonvar egg big, trust Anza," she giggled, petting his hair with a clean hand. "Need big egg for make of kobold."

Reluctantly he admitted to himself that her words made a lot of sense, but he still felt... a lot of things about what had just happened. What he had done. This was the kind of thing he needed to know about and needed her to tell him, he hated not knowing how to communicate with his wife.

"Anza drop many egg," she added, leaning back to look at him. "Small Anza break egg inside, many sad, afraid."

"So this is normal?" he asked, looking up. "Maybe you are too small for me, I should be careful."

She shook her head. "Want husband."

That didn't matter if he could hurt her so easily, actually breaking fragile things she carried inside her. Who knew what kind of damage he could cause to her? What a fool he had been, he vowed to himself to pay more attention to her body. Stupidly he had forgotten what she was, she made it so easy by being so dutiful and willing, their time together felt far more normal than it should have.

Was that so bad?

Aside from that morning she had been fine with him physically, actually it was more than fine, he did not know such pleasure could be felt at all. What she showed him was bordering on magic, real magic, like his mind was warped by her alluring gaze and the sway of her hips when she walked. Sometimes he would look at women before, it was natural, he would want them and always mean to ask them even though he never did. Missing out on what he did not know was bearable, but after he had a taste... Truthfully he was surprised he wasn't thinking about just that, the sight of her presented to him with her warm folds, the tight star under her tail, and those wide hips that begged to be grabbed.

Suddenly he realized they were naked and she was staring at him.

"No, husband," she giggled.

He knew she could feel his excitement and he blushed. "Sorry..."

Laughing she kissed his cheek and teased, "Anza know husband think."

"Yes, wife. I cannot hide that," he admitted with an even redder face.

"Good," she licked his cheek "Anza like big husband."

With physical relief forbidden, he escaped to go wash himself and avoid further amusing her. Too bad about the water not being as hot as he liked, but it could have been worse. At least he could clear his stuffy head, the steam must have knocked something loose and he snorted a handful and blew it all into the rag.

"Husband!"

What? He looked at her and shook his head. She seemed disturbed by his behavior, but didn't answer.

"That is what you're supposed to do. How else can it be cleaned?"

Anza scowled and muttered something, he went back to cleaning himself. Strange! At least he could fully clean his mouth too, a twig of silver birch was there ready to do it's job. That had been one of the things he had forgotten when they left, he used the frayed end to brush and clean whatever water couldn't rinse away. Something told him that he would be paying at least a few silvers for the treatment, but with a kobold there making a mess he imagined a whole gold piece was also a likely possibility.

After scrubbing himself clean in the freshly-soaped water, he took the piece of hard licorice and suckled on it to complete the experience. Yes, he would definitely be paying a pretty piece. There was another there for her, but he wasn't sure if kobolds liked it, so he left it there and decided it was best to let her decide on how clean she wanted to be. There was obvious magic in the confection, they kept for awhile and he had seen his father's whitemage mix in magical salts with one to improve it's freshening properties.

That memory came with a happy kiss, he sighed and smiled down at her.

She sniffed the air. "Anza see?"

He pointed at the white-speckled ebony jewel. "This is yours, to clean your mouth."

Cautiously she picked it up to examine the strange thing, sniffing it slowly before giving an exploratory lick. He laughed when her eyes widened, she obviously had never tried licorice before!

"Don't chew," he warned as she consumed the morsel, "leave it to work, that is the way to use it."

Kobolds didn't seem to savor things too often, but she did as told and got herself dressed in the clothes she left Ivarshold in; a happy accident of their laundry needs. His own clothes were somewhat dirty, but he didn't feel they weren't presentable among the patrons of the establishment. Good thing too, outside he saw the elves had found more of their own kind and were casually chatting while some human merchants lingered nearby. Rangvaalfolk, their blond hair and fancy clothes gave them away.

Drond was there too, he looked nervous.

Anza spoke with him quickly in hushed tones, but the reason why became clear immediately as the kobold passed her the thick sack of gold from the wagon. Nobody else could have seen it, but the way they did it and the speed suddenly made him wonder if the whole race had a natural aptitude for nimble fingers.

A gold piece and a silver rapped on the counter, Anza waited for the barmaid's attention before grunting, "husband hungry."

"I can get you two some bones and gristle if you like," one of the humans muttered, his companion chuckling at the joke.

She glared at them and pointed a finger in Thonvar's face. "Big husband, big hungry."

His face dropped and he looked at the redheaded human. "Don't care who he is, lays with one of you he deserves to get treated like one of you."

"Forest folk should mind their tongues out here," he said firmly.

"Aye and what are you gonna do about it, Reach-dog?"

Just at that moment one of the hold guards had stepped inside, the easterner's eyes widened when the hard scowl of the authority figure fell right on him. There were a few other red-haired men and women there as well, they looked equally displeased with the comment. Some of them might have even agreed with him up to that point, but they took offenses on their kind seriously.

"There's a road out there," the guard said evenly. "Think you should use it."

"I'm not done with my drink, I paid for it."

A local man got up from his bench and grabbed the flagon, his hazel eyes on the easterner as he drank, drank, drank... and gulped, finishing with a triumphant belch.

He set it down slowly and loudly before grunting, "done."

"You son of a whore, I'll--" he didn't finish, the reachman bashed his face with the flagon and the bar erupted into movement as the easterner fell.

"Pick up your friend."

Both the merchants stumbled out of the tavern and the guard turned his attention to the elves. "You. Take your kobolds and get out, you've caused enough trouble for the day."

"Can my wife stay here?" Thonvar asked. "We were trying to buy something to eat."

"Wife..." the guard looked down at her and up at him with a disgusted scowl. "Gods watch you, what kind of bet did you lose to wind up with such a fate?"

Thonvar looked at the elves quickly before replying, "our king asked my father for a son, my... father-in-law asked for me. I am Thonvar, son of Kargruuf, and I would tell you and any man here to hold your tongue if you wish to insult my wife."

"Gundar," the guard muttered, stepping aside so the elves and kobold could clear out. "I've heard of you... I'm glad we got that sorted out."

Without another word the guard walked away to wherever he was going before, Thonvar watched him until he disappeared around a corner before taking a seat. Anza needed help getting up and he wordlessly offered to lift her, but she opted to rest herself in his lap as they waited. Most of the patrons had ignored the two after a long moment, only the truly curious kept watching. What did they expect? Nothing good, he thought, they were probably wondering if and how the two of them spent their evenings under the covers.

Food came out, meat and bread with a side of horse cheese, it smelled even more delicious than it looked.

"Thank you," he said, the barmaid leaving them three copper coins as change. Before his wife could snatch them up he slid them out of her reach. "These are for you, for the service. We have had a... health problem, in our room."

"As long as the room is in one piece, that's fine, what happened?"

He blushed and looked down, only whispering, "we were too active," when the barmaid leaned close.

"I don't know what that means, traveler, but thank you for the honesty. I'll take care of it; please, eat."

No other invitation was needed for the kobold, she dug right in with a little snort of enthusiasm and started gobbling up anything that would fit in her mouth. He just watched her in a bewildered state for a few seconds before attempting to catch her hands, she wiggled around to avoid him until she couldn't. That earned him a feisty glare, but he managed to dissolve it into a small sigh before she returned to the meal with more grace.

"Remember, wife, we paid for it. Why not enjoy it?" he laughed.

She chewed and chewed, he could almost hear her thinking of her response. "Husband not hungry."

"That's not true." He was, more thirsty than anything else. "I just like to enjoy things."

"Slow eat, Anza steal," she replied, he could feel the automatic twitch of her tail against him. "Husband not lift fat Anza."

"There isn't enough kobold to put away all this food, you couldn't--" She looked back at him and gulped. "Then maybe I should get what I can."

Anza didn't stifle her musical giggle as she went back to her morning feast with a full handful of potato. That she didn't bother to chew, just gulping it down and following it with another and another, packing it all away with growing ferocity. He grabbed what he could, there was enough to satisfy both their needs and probably a half an hour's worth of relatively quiet munching left them full and content. By his estimation she... Was actually quite heavier when he helped her down.

With a wide-legged stance she cradled the bulge and sighed.

"Yes, I can see I was wrong," he muttered.

Beaming a triumphant smile she marched out, he had no words for the onlooking spectators and quietly followed his fattened wife.

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Shortly before noontime they set off across the bridge; one wagon after another crossing the mighty stone worn smooth by ages of wheel, foot, and hoof. A pit of excitement weighed down his gut as they rolled out onto the first span, the cliffs of the Reach dropping off sharply to the no-man's land of Karvjensfall, it menaced even from so far away. Fetid bogs, failed towns, and countless horrors that made the bridge a necessity if one wished to get from one side of the rivers to the other.

Far off in the distance a flicker of magic shot from one spot to another, exploding in a flash several seconds before the sound hit them.

"Mage's guild, no doubt," a mercenary said aloud with sharp, squinted eyes. "Heard tell they come up here to train the young'uns how to fight."

"Could be witches," Thonvar suggested.

"Aye, could be witches. Lotta green down there, I reckon it'd makes them a nice spot to hide their coven."

That was true, but Thonvar thought of another possibility. "Do spryggans use fire?"

"I reckon not, bein' made of wood an'all," the mercenary replied.

Out of a pouch he withdrew a small device with a pair of white crystals affixed to both ends, he held it up and peered through when it began to glow. For a few seconds he looked and squinted, bright blue light bathed his naked eye before he had to give up; he blinked to get his vision back.

Surprise gripped the redheaded warrior. "Do you know magic?"

"Aye, northman, I'm what we call a spellsword down south. My ma was an enchanter, da was a hired hand in Bilmoth."

"Like a farmer?" he asked, but when the man laughed he added, "a sell-sword then."

Shrugging nonchalantly, the magic-user put the device back into the pouch and withdrew a small stone. Polished round, it had an otherworldly glow that seemed like the blackness itself had figured out how to shine. He didn't know what it was, he had never seen anything like it before and always avoided the whitemage's quarters out of both fear and respect, but he doubted Sienna used anything like it. She was a healer, this... This was an artifact of death.

"Chargestone, got a whole bag of 'em, fits into here," the spellsword demonstrated a socket in the hilt of his sword, "puts the stone's magic in the blade, about all I can charge... Never took to it like ma did, never had the feel for it."

"You can use magic though, can't you?"

"Aye."

Curiosity got the better of Thonvar. "How? How does it work?"

"First, an' this is important, a man hasta have a feel for it," he opened his palm and made a shimmering pattern of lines form into a geometric diamond, "different types speak to different folk. This world around us, it's ripe for change, got a feel for that."

"What type of magic is that?"

"Altermancy, as my ma would say. Has many names, but it's what I can do best... Here," he turned his palm toward the awestruck northerner and cast it out. "How's that?"

An impossible stiffness had been put into Thonvar's clothing, he gasped as his shirt felt like it was made of solid rock. Of course he could still move, it just was insanely difficult and encumbered him greatly.

"My clothes!" he exclaimed. "Fix this!"

Laughing the spellsword shook his head. "Never learned to dispel common magic, but it'll wear the more you move."

That was true, Thonvar could already feel himself being able to twist and raise his arms. "Don't do that again."

"You asked how, that's how, a mage's gotta have a feel for it and then learn to focus. My ma taught me that everything has magic, that magic is just... it's there. A force, some say it rules all but ma never believed it; said it implied magic had thoughts. It don't. Think of it like water, northman, it's everywhere around us right now an' all you gotta do is learn to use it."

He thought about the analogy and realized it was true, every example he thought of had some form of water there. Obviously the rivers, pools, and springs were full of water, but so were the grass, the air, beasts, men, and kobolds; even the rocks were split by dampness in the winter.

"I understand, please go on."

A flask was produced and the man took a big gulp. "Name's Ruran, by the way... Oh, aye, back to magic. Just like water it needs to flow, this sword 'ere's got these chargestones and makes their magic go somewhere. If they didn't..."

He mimicked an explosion's noise, demonstrating the effect with his hands.

"Aye, what I just did was use meself as the instrument and the source. Somethin' 'bout a man's hands... Or a finger!"

Ruran laughed and pointed at a wooden cup sitting in a basket, the finger emitting a focused beam of light green with wispy lines of purple snaking around it. Nothing happened. Watching the cup closely, Thonvar almost decided the spellsword was full of himself until... Until a jostle to the basket made it hang in the air, moving away at the same speed they were traveling and into the waiting hand of the southerner.

"Pyromancers think they're the best," the magic-user said with a smirk, "but I always get hired with that trick."

"I can see why," Thonvar remarked with awe. "I've never been up close to magic before. Not like this."

Chuckling at that, Ruran unhooked a pouch from his belt. "I saw you fight, been meanin' for this to happen. Here, it's yours. Been told you saved me with that arm of yours, Corrick got me the arrow to prove it."

"There is no need to thank," he saw the insistence, but the presence behind him made it undeniable, "I will accept this."

Ruran nodded to him and explained, "another aspect of it is anyone castin' just about anythin' can imbue a container. Enchanters do it easier, make it look like it's nothin' a'tall, but with some effort a bottle can take a spell."

Thonvar opened the pouch and was drenched in a faint glow of blues, greens, and purples. "These vials, did you do these yourself?"

"Aye, I did. Read on 'em what's inside, purples are levitation and water-walkin', greens are burden-types, blues are light. Shake 'em if you want them to shine, leave 'em in the sun if they get dull, throw 'em if you wanna light somethin' up. Don't open it pointin' at you, you'll glow like a lamp."

"That is..." he wanted to say terrifying, confusing, strange, borderline evil, but, "... Actually useful. I did not know such magic existed, I only knew the whitemage's power and the evils of sorcerers and witches."

Ruran shrugged. "Magefolk's like any other, I reckon. Be well, Thonvar, those elves like us up front."

"Wind guide you, Ruran."

Thonvar turned and held the pouch out to Anza, she covered it with a satisfied smile.

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They had made the journey into the tall pines without a word, a mile in and his heart was tight in his throat as nature loomed high all around him. Trees always seemed so unnatural to him, he could count the number of times he had seen one on two hands in his twenty four years of life. There was just so many other wonders out there that didn't make him wary of their imminent collapse at any given second! Yet he was surrounded by the things, their tall trunks groaning as they swayed, the rushing sound of an infinity of needles singing in the wind; how could anyone stay sane among them?

Acid drenched the back of his tongue, he gulped hard to contain it. A drink of water made sure it stayed down.

At any second a branch thicker than his arm could come whistling down and crush somebody, one had already been cast off by an ancient tree and landed with a soft thump in the sea of red spines. Maybe it was best not to think about it, he needed to be brave and show that he could handle a stressful situation. Honor was on the line, respect, he had to earn it for himself and inside he braced himself for over a hundred miles of terror.

Right around then Anza peeled her giddy interest at their surroundings to her husband, once glance at her told him she saw through his weak disguise. Wordlessly she put the cover back on, making sure to pull the canvas tight so he couldn't see outside.

"No scare husband," she whispered, kissing his cheek.

"I'm not--"

Anza knew better than he did, she interrupted him by crawling in his lap and placing his hands on her tubby midsection. He wanted to protest, he really did, but... It felt good. Having her like that.

Really good.

Thoughts from before flashed into his mind about halflings and eggs, somehow knowing she had them inside her had made that abstract idea just a tiny bit more real. Yes, he had broken those eggs during their vigorous coupling, but... She did have them. Those ones were bad, she said, but she had some before and presumably would have some in the future. Did she have them already...? No. No, of course not, that was ridiculous.

She did gorge herself like he had never seen before, his hands were on the product of that. It felt like a pregnant belly.

Thonvar wanted more of the experience, he put his hands under her tunic and cradled her gut with his eyes closed. Was that normal? For people in his situation? In their situation? To be thinking of children so early and wondering if... if it was for them? Were they allowed to do it? Would the gods give him their nod, knowing he is but a man and a Son of the Reach? Those codes of honor and dignity prevailed even if his wife was by no means mundane or natural, it made sense to him to want this. To want it because he had to do it.

"Anza know, husband," she sighed, patting his hands.

"Know what?" he asked, opening his eyes.

His wife was looking up at him, her tunic pulled back to let her girth sit free in plain sight. For some reason he was still surprised by the sight, that the kobold female was elastic in more than one way, it felt a little shameful to be so naive of something that seemed obvious. How big could she get? What could she carry in that body?

A soft, knowing expression painted her features. "Husband think of makings Anza eggs."

"... Yes, wife. I did think of that."

She smiled.

It was a nice thought, but he added, "I wonder why I am wanting this. Perhaps it is the way of my people telling me to want this, perhaps it is not me."

"Thonvar want, Anza know."

He wasn't sure.

Just then a sharp breeze ripped through the wagon. He could have swore he heard a...

"...hlita... ...sannar..."