NOW: IMAGINATION
But the Vyggian had lied. I encountered him again at the camp perimeter the next night after the wagons and horses were stilled, dinner fires banked, bedrolls made, and tents erected. I was even more eager having been detained the evening prior, and I had heard the rushing waters of the Oberlong all day under the march of thousands of feet, both man and horse.
I had walked through camp with a careful eye as the meals were being served amongst cavalry, infantry, and citizen, eyeing where the Perpatanian men set up their watches. I saw no sign of any of the four foreign scouts, not the Vyggian, the man with the black braid, the barrel-chested man, nor the tall lady. I had returned to our wagon, changed into my foraging clothes, and made again for what seemed like the least guarded edge of camp.
Triumphant, my steps quick and quiet, I was at the perimeter when I felt my whole body pulled backwards by the strap of my foraging bag. I was jerked into a lean, hard frame and heard atsksound in my ear.
“Robbie,come now. You were told no last night.”
I inhaled, overcome by the press of him behind me and the scentof him. He smelled only like lye soap, the merest bit of horse and, oddly enough, salt. But it had an effect on me, one I refused to name.
“Do you want me to beg?” I had meant to retort, but because I was so flummoxed by him, it came out entirely provocative.
We both froze.
His hand was still gripping the strap of my bag, fisted against his chest, the only thing that separated our bodies, save our clothes. Something about the cloak of night slowed us. In daylight, perhaps he would have pulled away sooner. In daylight, perhaps I would have fought out of his hold.
But we just stood like that and breathed.
Eventually he said, “I cannot begin to fathom what it would take to bring a woman like you to her knees.”
“And yet,” I whispered, both irritation and intrigue in my voice, “you seem like a man with a talented imagination.”
His breath hit the skin behind my ear as he leaned in. “Is that so?” he said, his words husky, curious.
I needed to correct our course. Soon he would think I offered my body in favor of being allowed to leave camp. And then my mind, the deceitful, wanton thing, suggested to me that it would not be so bad, a possibly satisfactory rut in the dirt with a fine man and then the ability to gather what I needed.
I was going mad. I was a madwoman, contemplating a fuck for my freedom as if it was a pleasant alternative and not a sordid price, just because he was handsome in the face and had a desirable body.
Attempting dignity, I straightened, which was a mistake as it brushed my rear end against the front of him.
His lips parted against my hair, and he gave a slow exhale. Then I felt him open his mouth wider and flex his jaw from side to side.
Acting as if I had not just lewdly rubbed myself against his prick, I said, “Of course you have a talented imagination. I have been practically called a criminal by you simply for foraging in the night. You do not know what I seek.”
The Vyggian released my bag and stepped away from me, but remained close. “Perhaps you seek mother’s moss.”
He knew too much. He knew what the stuff was and that it was illegal, even though he was no Perpatanian. “There is a flower that blooms most at night. It aids with keeping the blood healthy,” I said weakly. “And with illnesses of the stomach. Best not to have disease spread in the camp?”
He remained quiet.
I rambled on. “Truly, it is a needed precaution. It can be found near water. I do not mean to sneak. It is best gleaned in the dark.”
He put his hand between my shoulders and gave me a push. In a voice so detached it seemed almost cruel, he ordered, “Be fast or I’ll come after you. Do not doubt me in this. I will throw you over my shoulder and trample your flowers if you are not returned to me in under an hour.”
“I understand.”
“I will do so and think nothing of it. An hour.”
“I can do that.”
“You had better do that,Robbie.”
27
NOW: SERPENT
“We must avoid the salt man,” I proclaimed in the early morning, hands on my hips, surveying as Tessa poured Ilsit and Fox tea in tin cups. I stood watching the four of them sit on crates around a dying fire Tessa had made for bark tea and toast. We had plenty of bread to make toast as every time Tessa or I went to collect our rations of loaves from the army’s bread wagons, we were given five. Not since that first collection with the Vyggian’s intervention had there been a dispute over how many loaves were allowed to wagon four hundred and twenty-three. And though he had seen to us being fed, we still did not know him.
