A little later two soldiers came for us. They looked annoyed rather than aggressive as they entered the tent. Until they saw me.

I stood taller than any of them. My most innocent smile managed to relieve some tension. Nice to know my charm was still working, although it was probably more Freya's well-chosen words.

As before, Freya guided me with her hand and I just followed automatically, changing direction at her slight pressure without thinking. This time I deliberately looked back at the staring faces and smiled. The smile was meant to remind them that I was human too. And indeed, most of them looked away, embarrassed. A few smiled back and two even gave a wolf whistle. Yes, even with the wrong number of legs! But Freya gave them angry looks.

Of all these people, I was probably the tallest. And one of the cleanest, even though I had woken up in the dirt of a battlefield. But this was a frontline camp after a battle, and probably 500 years on the wrong side of running water. (Not entirely true, as I found out much later.) To be fair, most people were too busy to stare, and I got a good idea of how to maintain an army. From our enemy enclosure at the back of the camp, we passed through the area of the washerwomen, cooks, butchers and bakers who did their work outside. Close to the soldiers were the blacksmiths and the various guilds that made and repaired weapons and armour. A cluster of white tents might have been for the clerics or healers, though Freya and the other healers wore dark.

Closer to the centre, the area became military. In front of each tent, there was a helmet stand, probably to show who was there. Name tags as pheasant feathers.

The second meeting with the general was brief, and this time I was only an extra. Not understanding a word of what Freya and the general were discussing, I paid more attention to the hand movements for the greetings, and I think I did a decent copy of that when we left.

After a few steps, our guards left and we were on our own again.

"I took a few liberties. You have been hired as a freelance courier to deliver letters to the main quarter near Krenburg."

"Thanks, but I have no idea how to get there, and I don't speak"

"Shh, don't worry," Freya grinned. "Just hire me. Don't look so surprised, I've taken leave from the military, so you can officially hire me as a guide. You get paid. I only work for you for food and riding. Please."

"Clever girl! Getting away from the army and even getting paid for it."

Freya's face showed guilt.

"Don't worry, I don't mind. I want to see the world too, and together sounds good." And getting away from this stinking camp with too many people was also high on my agenda. And better with Freya than with some unknown guide. I think we understood each other quite well, despite all the obvious differences.

"Do you mind carrying me? Otherwise, you will have to pay for a horse".

"The saddlebag was heavier than you. No problem, I think."

Freya was excited. At that moment she was still a child.

"So let's eat something nice and then go back to the tent and start early tomorrow."

"Is there a washroom nearby, er, an outhouse?"

I could have found it just by following the stench. It was a wooden log, stripped of its bark, propped up on either side with a trench underneath. Picking the least dirty part, I slid my back over it and lifted my tail as high as I could. And really hoped the log would support my weight. And went about my business, ignoring the stares.

What I would give for some curtains.

The relief was desperately needed and I realised just how much pressure had built up. Several litres and kilos lighter, there was no need to linger here any longer. Especially without toilet paper. I briskly walked away from the hellish stench. Freya could hardly keep up.

But we did not return to the tent. Freya led me to the dining area.

"What do you want to eat?"

We were now far enough away from the facilities that I could consider this question.

Although I was very hungry, I doubted that there would be a macaroni bake, but there might be a bacon omelette. But what could I digest? "What do the centaurs eat?"

"Most of them just normal human food, and then their horse part gets constipated. I told you they were badly made."

To me, the centaurs sounded more and more like the mages playing toy bricks with humans and horses. Luckily, I was different, apparently.

But back to the problem at hand. Hmm, I imagined a steak and tried to trigger the voices in my head. They came back quickly. Most of them were against the steak. Salad, apples and carrots, on the other hand, received unanimous approval. Potatoes drew no response, perhaps because they were unknown, but even grass and oaks did not raise protest.

"Vegetarian, it seems." I sighed, still thinking about a macaroni bake, my favourite vegetarian option.

"Then we should join the clerics." She smiled.

"Great, they invited me anyway."

Freya looked surprised.

* * *

The sun was still up, but the tables were packed. I guess candles and lamp oil were expensive in this era, so people here had to end the day at sunset. Another reminder of how much I did not know. Not what season it was, not even how many hours there were in a day. Not that it would matter much without a clock.

As we approached the cleric's table, everyone froze. But at the front left sat Clavs, the tall cleric from before. Clavs and Freya's words struck the right chord. He moved a little to the side for Freya, and they made a small opening at the head of the table where I could sit on my haunches.

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

The food was a rich vegetable soup. Everyone filled their bowls, drank it and then sucked the vegetables down. I did the same and it went down all too quickly. With Freya's encouragement, I had a second and even a third helping. I was also handed a heavy tin mug. After my experience with the horrible water from the waterskin, I was pleasantly surprised: it was spiced apple cider.

When Freya was sure that I was being cared for, she went to the healers' table for some 'real meat'. Senior Healer Clavs translated for me. Until after the fourth helping, however, I mostly chewed. In between, he coaxed out many details of my old world from me. But of course, computers, telephones or even just a screen were completely foreign concepts here. And the cider was not strong enough to babble about atomic bombs or poison gas, although there might be magical weapons here equally destructive.

The clerics were all male and single. But that was because they were with the army, Clavs explained. All the clerics at the table were serving ten years of penance. And while the healers tried their best, everyone would end up seeing a cleric. After a battle like today, there was a lot of work.

"Enough of that. Let's sing!" he declared, standing up. The rest followed in one fluid motion.

I slowly rose too. Singing? I had not sung since primary school, apart from humming in the shower. Still, I followed them.

The sun had just dipped below the clouds, painting their bellies a beautiful pink. At that moment, it looked like home.

* * *

We walked a little downhill from the dining area. Two of the clerics had gathered instruments, a box with strings and a hand drum. Then they sat in a three-quarter circle, open to the west, where the sky gave us a beautiful sunset. I was placed in the middle, facing west, as the guest of honour. I enjoyed being in their middle. Even if it was for their selfish reason of being close to an impossible body whose soul was bleeding life.

The strings of the box instrument were quickly tuned and then they began to sing.

I had no idea if this was an evening choral or just something to relax. Probably both. But it was great, there were different voices and it was soothing and deeply touching. I had once listened to Gregorian chorals, but the chants here were richer and more lively, with a rhythm. As the sun dipped below the horizon, their singing came to an end. They bowed to each other and some left. But now other people came down from the dining area, black-robed healers, washerwomen, other guilds and even soldiers.

More instruments came with them.

The next song had a driving rhythm to the beat of hand drums and a dominating flute. People began to dance in rows, while others joined in the singing. It was very catchy, even I was tapping my paws. Then a young cleric took my hand and I followed him, too surprised to resist. We stood side by side in a row, moving towards each other, then to the side. He told me the steps in his broken mindspeak. While the exact steps were too challenging, keeping up with the movement was no problem; no, it was fun, lots of fun. I could do this. I even got the steps right after a few repetitions. I was mirroring them with my front and back legs at the same time. Quite an effort, I panted. Then came the next stanza which had a turning around each other. Turning was a challenge as there was not enough room for me to move sideways, so I pushed my body up and turned on my hind paws, sailing over their heads with my forepaws. The people next to me whistled in delight. Encouraged, I danced on, lost in the music, dancing like them, except for the jumping turns, which they all cheered.

The dance went on for a long time. I could smell the fresh sweat of the dancers and I was sweating too.

After the dance, many people must have complimented me. I wished I could understand them. I could just smile back. The next dance was a pair dance. Couples formed when the music started. It was a rather slow dance, mostly with the partners facing each other, and at the end of each verse, there was a wild turn together. Then the partners would move one to the left to a new partner. I was standing on the outside, moving to the rhythm, when someone tapped me on the shoulder. I looked up in surprise at a smiling young man. I followed him eagerly. When it came to the turning part, I raised up on my hind legs and lifted him into the air as I turned with two steps before setting him down on the other side. He laughed heartily and gave me a quick kiss on the cheek before we each moved one partner to our right. It had been a long time since I had been this happy.

The next dance was again with singing, but of course, I was just dancing.

They sang and danced until it was too dark to make out individuals, just silhouettes against the dark sky. Slowly people left, tired from work and dancing, until only a few remained.

I was one of the last, laughing with my partners, lost for words. The youngest cleric had stayed behind to translate for me as best he could in his broken mindspeak.

A few lanterns had been lit up at the edge of the camp, more like beacons to guide us back than to provide any meaningful illumination.

The cleric, Tirad was his name, quickly found the healing table. Apparently, Freya could not hold her liquor which was not surprising for someone so young. Or maybe they served a much stronger cider for the healers. She was snoring behind the table, her robe wet with dew.

I lifted her up, but she slept on. Tirad led me to the healers' tents, and shortly afterwards Freya and I were given a small empty tent and two blankets. I rolled Freya into one of the blankets and followed my nose to the facilities. Somehow the night had become brighter again, and indeed a three-quarter moon rose on my way back. It didn't look all that different from home, as far as I could tell as a former full-time city dweller. It made the way back a lot easier.

In the tent, I was still unsure how I was going to sleep. I mean, it sounded stupid, but I had no idea. Should I sleep standing up like a horse? (Horses also lie down, I learned later.) Or on my side like house cats? And no idea how squirrels sleep. First, I tried lying on my side, but it was uncomfortable because both my shoulders were wide and my spine was hanging between them. Inspired by the ease with which I could bend down under my legs, I tried lying on my back. That worked better, although I could feel every stone and hole in the uneven grass, even with the blanket under me. And in the pitch-black tent, there was no way to level the ground. So one last position to try: I rolled onto my belly, stretching my forelegs forward and folding my hind legs in. The forelegs were so long that the paws ended up close to my face.

I hugged my forepaws. My belly was suspended from my hind legs, so that worked. And the forepaws were surprisingly comfortable, the fur on them was soft and smelled a little of cinnamon, much nicer than the blanket.

* * *

The next thing I saw was the daylight shining under the edge of the tent. I raised my torso carefully, expecting cramps from the stretched sleeping position. But nothing, as if I had been made for this. I had a bit of a hangover, but as I had been dancing all evening, it was nothing really. Freya snuggled with my hind paw. I yawned and stretched my upper body, and then I heard my stomach gurgle. I was a big girl now, with a big appetite.

Hmm, the grass in the tent didn't smell too bad. I gave it a go and it did taste a bit like rosemary and basil, although a bit dry. I tore off everything within reach of my hands. It was not much, but enough to try and see if I could keep it down.

There were voices outside, sleepy ones and commanding ones and just ordinary ones.

Freya had said we should leave early today. So I wiggled my hind paw out of her grip. Still no reaction. Then I brushed her face with my tail. It took a moment for her to wake up. After a few more moments she shot up and would have fallen over if I hadn't grabbed her shoulder.

"Morning, sleepyhead."

Her face went through several expressions, visually sorting her memory. Finally, it settled on a tired hangover. "Ouch," she winced.

"I will be back in a minute."

"Hnn," was her reaction.

So I went about my business.

When I returned, she was awake, had even washed her face, had the saddlebag on her shoulder and was eager to go. But not me, I needed food.

Breakfast was yesterday's bread in a thin broth. Certainly not my first choice. I asked for some cabbage, which was in plenty, and they shredded a quarter into my bowl. Much better.