I was up early again. My legs felt heavy, but not sore or aching. The crisp morning with the dewy meadows called for a run. I ended up running halfway to the mountain cabin and back, steaming in the fresh, wet air. Just the right temperature to wash in the icy mountain stream. This time I took the new paw cloth with me and used it to dry my torso outside. Just in time, the sun finally reached the bottom of the valley as I was towelling off.

I strolled back to the house and looked into the stable. It was empty, the horses were out in the pasture. But I wasn't looking for the horses, I was looking for a brush. And I found one, a well-worn rusty brush with long spikes. The rust did not bother me, it matched the colour of my backside fur anyway. Kendrick had given me my last thorough grooming before the race. That was only six days ago, but it felt like an eternity.

When I groomed myself there was still a lot of loose fur, even on the easily accessible parts of my back. The fur had also hidden a surprising number of needles and pieces of wood. When the brush had lost its rusty crust, I lay on my back, lower back, and bent forward to brush the white belly fur and the white insides of my legs. Only the buttocks would be better done by someone who was probably still asleep.

As I groomed myself, I wondered if my leg muscles had grown after the rapid travel with the horses and the mountaineering. I tried to remember how far my hand had reached around my foreleg. Now it was less than half, even for my monster hand.

With a few bending exercises, I groomed the outside of my hind legs. Now I was done, I wouldn't get any prettier. At least I didn't have to shave my legs, brushing was easier.

I put the brush down and went back inside, following the smell of omelette and bacon. Rap and a servant from the Cutra valley were making a big bacon omelette. But Rap pointed to a second pan, "Only vegetables!"

And as a countess, I was not allowed to help. So I just watched them and the flames of the cooking fire while I enjoyed my veggi omelette.

* * *

One by one the rest of the house arrived, the last being Freya, no surprise there. After a long breakfast and a longer conversation, we all went out together because Count Frederic of Cutra had asked for a demonstration of my capabilities. Which meant another race.

While we had been inside and talked, Rap and the other servant had set up a large table with a cold buffet of the best of Litra (it was cheese, greens, mostly mountain carrots and cucumbers, and some roast meat) for the farewell dinner for the Count of Cutra's family. And the news of a race had spread quickly. All the inhabitants of Litra, and probably those of the two hamlets, were on the outskirts of the village, many of them talking to a young man with a horse, their champion. We walked slowly towards him.

His horse was a local farm horse and he was certainly a less skilled rider than Prince John. Of course, he didn't stand a chance. I was almost twice as fast over the two miles and not even completely out of breath.

The people of Litra cheered their countess on. Although I doubted they had the same spleen as their count, I completed this most memorable event of the year so far. By now, I had proven myself to be a worthy countess, first climbing the Thunderhead with Old Henry and now outpacing their best horse. Even the rider smiled as he dismounted and bowed to me, his countess. Well, people like winners. Probably even more so those who cannot and do not make long victory speeches.

"Thank you. Children riding me?"

And now they came. While I did my laps with the children, the villagers brought more food, and the tables were quickly extended with picnic blankets to form a very large cold buffet. Enough cucumbers, mountain carrots, cheese, bread, meat and cold skewers for the whole valley.

After my "Let's eating, thank you", everyone took as much as they wanted, as often as they wanted, and could roast their meat or melt their cheese on four fires at the side of the village square.

People made way for me whenever I approached a fire or a table. Otherwise, they had lost their initial caution and being with Healer Freya also helped. For the first time, I was asked more for my story than for Freya's advice. For the children, I told my broken Kren short version, and for the adults, Freya told my story properly. I also had to speak in Earth, stand on my hind legs, and lift the heaviest man in the village - and he was heavy. And I was petted a lot.

A mixture of meeting your countess, hugging the big teddy bear and looking at the freak at the county fair. To complete the county fair scene, dancing soon started to some string music.

In the afternoon, another cloud appeared over the Thunderhead. As soon as it was spotted, Count Frederick and his family prepared to return home. The horses were harnessed quickly and Count Cutra's carriage swayed through the meadows. Count Larel and Jot rode, and I walked beside them until the carriage safely reached the wagon track in the Tret Valley. Then a final goodbye and a quicker return as the thunderhead cloud had grown quickly.

Freya had stayed in Litra to help with the tidying up and to wash her clothes. I played a bit with the children, who had the day off because it was the 22nd. I had to ask Freya: every 11th, 22nd and 33rd of the 15 months was a holiday, and of course, there were 35 days a month, how could I ask! Even the children giggled when Freya explained. And there were 5 extra holidays for the New Year, which would start soon, before the next month. All in all, 530 days a year. Assuming a similar length of days (and I had no idea how to measure time independently), 20 years here would be like 30 Earth years.

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A rumble brought a last flurry of activity. Freya gathered her few clothes from the line, the children hurried to their homes and I helped Jot bring the three horses in.

* * *

The next morning, it was time to say goodbye. I was expected back in Krenburg for the mage's trial, at least that was what the dame had told me. And of course, I wanted to talk to the mage, not least to understand my body better. Lastly, Freya wanted to learn more about normal healing, beyond frontline sword and arrow injuries. The experience in Litra had been humiliating for her, she had felt so inadequate as a healer; or as she put it ‘even a proper apprentice healer could have done better than me’.

I promised to return as soon as the matter with the mage was resolved, or before winter if it dragged on. It was an easy promise, for Litra had grown dear on me. I was looking forward to climbing all the mountains around it, and even to spending a winter learning to read and write.

The count, Jot, Rap and three other men from the village rode with us to the ford across the Tret. They retreated a little so that Freya could strip naked to avoid getting wet this time. On the other side, we waved goodbye one last time and then headed up the ridge into the forest. I hardly noticed the slope.

At the top, I stopped. Here was the border, one last look back to the mouth of the Litra valley and the mountains surrounding it. And something else was bothering me. "Freya, have my muscles grown? Get down, I'll show you what I mean!"

She dismounted and I stood on my hind legs and flexed my forelegs.

Freya blushed and giggled.

"Freya, please."

She stood next to me, her head level to my lower shoulders. "Of course. Yes, they did, how could you not have noticed? I think when we first met these were probably half that size."

I came down with a thud. "Half?"

"So what? You did an extreme workout carrying me. And I think that these soul-maged bodies are more malleable at first. That is probably why so many centaurs died so quickly, they did not will their bodies to work for them. You know, Larina did not have such strong arms at first."

"So I will turn more into a freak."

"I don't think the changes are happening against your will. Look at your claws! They were tiny on your hands at first, like a house cat. But they have grown since your first squirrelling out. Now you have these half finger long black spikes. I wonder how you can still bend your fingers.

I extended them, half automatically. Had they really changed that much? I tore at them with the other hand, still rock solid, as needed for climbing trees. And in they went. I could move my fingers as normally as ever. Although the outermost phalanges of all my fingers might be longer.

"So you think I can control these changes?"

"I am a healer," she sighed, "a bad apprentice even, not a soul mage."

Now I really wanted to talk to the mage as soon as possible. "Jump on, let's put those muscles to work."

I still walked at a leisurely pace. I did not want to end up as a squirrel hulk.

* * *

We made good progress. In the late afternoon, we reached already the third valley. A brisk brook was gurgling at its floor. Even down in this valley, it was warmer than in Litra. Time to call it a day.

The saddlebag was filled with bread and cheese from Litra and some more vegetables. Among them was a good helping of mountain carrots, which were small, spicy, and crisp brown roots. And an old cabbage still left from Krenburg.

Since it was warm, we did not want to roast the cheese, Litra style. Cold cheese was tasty too.

I was lying lazily on my back, looking at the reddening clouds through the treetops while alternating between the cheese and the roots. Freya had already finished eating and was giving my legs a good massage. Seeing her standing and working my tree trunks, well, they were worryingly big. But the massage was so good that I purred.

* * *

The next morning, I awoke at the first sign of dawn. The birds were already singing so loudly that I wondered how they could hear each other over the noise.

Freya's massage yesterday had worked wonders, no sore muscles at all. Not even a little.

I drank my fill and then decided to join the bird in the treetops. As soon as I started to climb, they took flight. Sorry guys. I was jumping from tree to tree. And indeed, the landings felt heavier. Should I really have gained so much muscle mass? But soon I was in the zone and didn't care, panting heavily and going for more daring jumps. Until a close call when three branches broke under my weight and I barely managed a rescue jump to a tree trunk strong enough to hold me, half pulling out my claws in the process. Panting heavily, I hung there for a few moments, just a few paces above the ground, letting the adrenaline ebb away. When I got my breath back, I slowly climbed down the last few steps. Oh my, there was a whole debris field again, thick branches and small felled trees, not to mention bark and leaves littered the forest. I think I saw at least one nest in one of the branches. I was deeply embarrassed.

Even Freya had been woken by my ruckus. She looked at me, tired and angry. She made me feel like a five-year-old who had sneaked into the kitchen looking for sweets and made a mess. I tried to look as innocent as I could: "But I feeling good!" was a lame excuse.

Of course, it didn't work with Freya. "Stupid, overgrown squirrel," she muttered and stood up slowly.

I swore that next time I would really start a lot further away from the sleeping Freya.

* * *

By mid-afternoon we were at the top of the ridge above Krenburg even without putting in too much effort. After the cool mountain climate of Litra, the late afternoon heat of Krenburg felt like a desert, even now, when we were still in the forest. I had no great enthusiasm for climbing down and up the castle hill just to sleep surrounded by stones. And I had a feeling that it would be much longer before I could return to Litra.

Freya was fine with camping, and the cloudless sky promised a clear, starry night.

I put the saddlebag down.

"Freya, please seeing if muscles bigger."

"Please see if the muscles have become bigger," she sighed, "And silly you, no growth today," she laughed at me. Nevertheless, she put her hands on the left upper foreleg and felt it, "Honestly, your muscles are the same size as yesterday, only harder".

"After all, I walked three valleys with you."

"So, another massage?"

I threw myself on the floor, legs in the air, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

Freya was thorough, kneading the muscles until they were soft as I purred into a light slumber.

"Quite a warm afternoon!" With that she removed the tunic, sat on my lower shoulder and began to work the left arm down to the fingertips, her breast dancing just to the left of my face. Damn, Freya, what a tease. After so many nights of cuddling, I thought I was over it. I could smell my excitement. But Freya meant business and went to my other side. Or so she said, but I suspected she was playing with me too.

Finally, she was sweating. A salty sweat between her breasts tasted my tongue. She had played me well and deserved her reward.