I was woken by a knock on the door, soft, more like a tapping. But it was enough. A still sleepy glance out of the window showed that it was probably past midday.

"Coming!" I whispered, even though no one could hear that through the door. I threw on my jacket, yawned and yanked the door open.

Count Radel stumbled forward, his hand nearly touching my face as he was about to knock again. The embarrassment did wonders for my circulation, I was wide awake and stammered, "Count Radel, sorry, I"

"Good, er, morning, Countess. Sorry, did I wake you?"

"Is good."

"Because I thought you might like to see the procession. It starts in about an hour."

"Just a moment! Washing." I ran to the well.

"Take your time," the count called after me.

A bucket over my torso, towelling dry, and back to my room. Somehow 'a lick and a promise' stuck in my head. But I had not washed myself that quickly ... Well, one day on travels, I might have to try the real licking. But here I prefer the well.

Today, I would wear the shirt made by Dame Grendel's seamstress and proudly display my colours. And the jacket really needed laundering.

"Dear Countess, are you just visiting Earth?"

I had stopped walking with the wet paw-towel covering my breasts and the jacket in my left hand. Still not fully awake. I shook my head, "Sorry," and hurried inside to change.

"Freya, we are going to town!" I said very loudly. She still snored. Her loss.

"Bring some buns," said the count.

* * *

Larina was not in her stall in the stable; perhaps she had already left, as we were quite late. Someone would have told her; the whole castle was on its way down, everybody carrying a basket or bag with buns.

I was allowed to have some for breakfast (or rather lunch) but I had to keep at least three. No problem though, I was not that hungry.

Even before we reached the foot of the hill, it was getting crowded and the crowd only moved slowly towards the centre.

Count Radel stopped with many others at a crossroads that the procession would pass. And there we waited.

To pass the time, Count Radel told me more about the procession. There would be some posters depicting the events of the past year. Each poster was attached to a wagon. Whenever you found one that was well made, funny or otherwise worthy, you threw one or more buns into that wagon. The children were allowed to collect any that had missed its target.

Soon the three senior clerics came who walked in front. One from each faction, brown, white and blue, even though Krenburg was the centre of the brown. They were singing hymns, and three younger clerics in the three colours were walking a few steps behind, playing two flutes and a hand drum.

The first wagon had two beams on which hung a canvas with a crude drawing of what might be the winter, clouds and wind. It had not collected many buns and only a few flew towards it. Instead, the wagon was booed. No wonder, the early winter had ruined much of the harvest, and last spring had been terrible. I had just missed the worst of it.

Then came the next wagon. It was drawn by five soldiers and showed a red knight standing and a blue knight lying on the ground. Victory over Kwal, of course. This one was almost full to the brim, and yet buns still sailed towards it, spilling over the sides to the delight of the children.

The hymns of the clerics were now drowned out by a tiny flute to which a dozen or so young and blonde women danced around a man dressed in elaborate garments but with his hands bound by a silver cord. On the wagon was a drawing of three dancing women, and a knight holding a parchment was kicking a king. "Justice for Prince Pellic," explained Count Radel. I remembered. The prince who had raped Freya's mother and killed her father. To the right of the prince on the canvas were smaller crowned men in ropes. Whoever had drawn this had obviously hoped for more justice. This was also well-filled. I threw one of mine in, almost at the same time as the count. Mine remained in the wagon while his fell to the ground.

Many people followed the wagon and danced. I would have liked to dance, but I wanted to see the others too. And the next one was drawn by me! Not me, of course, but two people in costume. A tall woman in a white shirt with lots of green ribbons. The second woman was holding the first one on her hip and was covered in furs. And there was a long vertical tail sticking out. Involuntarily, I looked back and tucked my tail under me so as not to obstruct the view any more than I already would. The wagon was pushed by five men at the back, as the women depicting me had enough difficulties to move in sync. White and green ribbons hung from each spoke of the wagon and the drawing showed me sticking my tongue out at a knight on a horse. I threw a bun at it. But when people saw me, they threw quite a few right at me. I picked them up and threw them half back and half towards the wagon. It was like a snowball fight, but with sweet buns.

The following wagon had four red-white flags of the Kren Republic hanging from each corner. A serious-looking person in a brown cloak walked in front of it, surrounded by six would-be nobles. The brown-cowled figure held a thick book in his hands, and every few steps he hit the head of one of the nobles on either side of him with the book. On the drawing, a brown-cowled man was blowing down nobles too, and, oh my, I was there too, kicking them with my hind legs. "Count Radel, what?"

"Can you guess who the man in the brown cowl is?"

This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

There were the flags of the Kren Republic, so it could not be a cleric. And he was not old. "Vice-Administrator?"

"Yes. He is trying to rein in the nobility. Make the people more equal. It is written in the Kren Republic's Charter: 'One law for all.'"

"What he doinged last year?"

"Oh, he was just elected. I still wonder how. Maybe people thought the war was a good time for a change."

"But what doing I?"

"You have been promoted to a lady, an alien, but it goes well with his ideas. I think he was also very pleased with Count Larel's decision. And rumour has it that as soon as the officers return from the battlefield, there will be many more Sirs too. The more new voters, the less influence the old nobility will have."

I got the idea. So I had just been in the right place at the right time. I threw a bun there too.

Now the next wagon came. In front of it was a baker, easily recognisable by the large plank of bun-sized roundbread loaves. Another man looked at the loaves critically, nodding all the time. The man had mismatched shoes, the right one ridiculously large, his left sleeve too long too, but he ignored it with mock dignity. The drawing showed rows of loaves of roundbread, shrinking in size from left to right, with a knight nodding along. This wagon was also well-filled with sweet buns. "After the bad harvest and the hard winter, wheat was scarce. Since the price of bread is fixed by law, they made the bread smaller. It was 'investigated', but of course it was ignored. There was no easy solution. At least things will soon be back to normal," the count explained.

Ah, the unhappy side of medieval local-only production.

The next wagon was led by seven men in blue, each imitating a very old cleric. They limped and wheezed. The design showed a blue cleric, hunched over with a staff, sticking out his tongue at a white knight with a three-bladed sword.

"Count Radel?"

"Ah, sorry, this is the Nuncipal, head of the blue cleric faction and ruler of Loma. By all rights, he should have abdicated years ago. But he had enough supporters to keep him in power for almost 30 years." Which would be 45 years by earth count.

"And the white knight with the three, er, knifes?"

"Oh, Death with his three sharp swords. Somehow the Nuncipal refuses to die, they say. So Death is waiting, one blade for the body, one for the spirit and one for the soul."

I was very grateful that Count Radel never said anything like 'How can you ask that?' even to my silliest questions about the things every child should know. And for his patience, even when it took three attempts before I understood.

The death-mocking Nuncipal wagon had received very few buns. Probably no one wanted to mock a cleric, just in case. Even if it was one of the other factions.

The last wagon was almost empty too. It was drawn by a single man, and two clerics pushed it. The crude drawing only sketched two crumbling houses in charcoal. I wanted to throw it a pity bun, but the count stopped me. "This killed two whole families. This is just to remember them. Not to rejoice. Just a reminder of fate, to close the procession. Fate opens it and fate closes it."

The procession was officially closed by three clerics, again one from each faction, each carrying a heavy stone on a string around his neck. The stone was fate, fate to endure.

Many of the townspeople followed them in silence to the marketplace. We joined them after a while, when there was an opening big enough for me. But it became clear that we would never get anywhere near the marketplace, there were too many people. At least the road was straight, and with my head above everyone else's I could look down the street and see the wagons parked by their posters in the distance. But I wanted to see more.

"Coming," and then I pulled the count with me. The people parted as I aimed for the wall of a conveniently located building.

"Now on shoulders!" I ordered.

He looked at me hesitantly. I did not wait: I lifted him up and sat him on my upper shoulder, his legs dangling forward. "Countess, I don't." Before he could finish his protest, I was standing on my hind legs, the wall of the house behind me for extra support. My tail curled forward between my front legs to hide my privates.

"Now seeing good," I said, and he made no further protest. Indeed, I could now see the carts in full, and he must have an even better view now that his head was on level with the second floor. Next to him was a window where three children and their mother were watching the spectacle. Then they saw me, "Lady Kiara!" and waved. I waved back politely and absently. Because to be honest, it had been a stupid, squirrel-brained idea. First of all, the count was heavy, much heavier than Freya. Secondly, my broad neck must have made it very uncomfortable for him. And finally, I was overwhelmed by his masculine scent so close to my nostrils. I was so highly aroused that I found it difficult to focus on the marketplace. But stubborn me had started it, so stubborn me would finish it.

Fortunately, they were not making long speeches. Without loudspeakers, there was no point in it anyway. They had already transferred the buns from the wagon with the winter and the broken houses to a huge bowl. The clerics said a few words, and then ten people came with torches. The clerics made a final gesture and then, one by one, they threw their torches at the two wagons. "They are chasing away bad luck. Fate does not want to burn," said Count Radel. His words came slowly through the fog of my horny brain.

As soon as the last torch was thrown and the flame reached the linen, I sat down the count and again on all fours, straightened my upper back. I massaged my neck a little, trying to calm myself, while the count hopped from one leg to the other, rubbing his thighs. Well, not to repeat, we both agreed without words.

And boing, I was hit by a sweet bun from above. A small child from the third floor waved enthusiastically. I waved back with a smile and took a bite of his present.

We could get more sweet buns in the marketplace. But to be honest, my basket was still not empty and I was in desperate need of a cold shower (or at least some buckets from a well), even if the count did not notice. I willed down my tail with all my concentration. On top of that, having danced until the crack of dawn and the short sleep came back with a vengeance. So we were among the first to walk up the road to the castle.

* * *

Freya was not in my room. So I went to the healer's room. But it was deserted too. Since it was still hot and almost no one was around, I used the chance to wash outside at the fountain and to launder my jacket too. The sun was strong, and as soon as I was dry, I dozed off in the shade of the wall near my room.

"Kiara, er, Lady, you haven't been down to town?" Freya stood there, still excited. "You were gone when I woke up."

"Freya, good. I triyinged, tryined, er, no wakinged you. I goinged, er, goed with Count Radel."

Freya's eyes told me that none of my attempts were even close to the correct conjugation.

"Please, Kiara, it is 'tried' and 'went'. And please, I will not hit you. No need for sad puppy eyes."

Had I made that expression? "Freya," I said seriously, "can we going my room? Please."

I closed the door. "Can you check if I, er..." I sighed and took her hand so she could read my words. "Please check if I have my period. My breasts are full and I am horny as hell."

Freya grinned. "Well, we can."

I shook my head. "After"

She took her hand and nodded a few moments later. "Hmm, not yet. But you are close to ovulation."

"Ovulation? This is so different, it drives me crazy."

"There's now so much more of Kiara!"

"You can have it. But first," I took off my shirt and threw myself on the mattress, revealing my painfully tight breasts. "Please Freya, they hurt."

Enjoying the afterglow and especially me, the reduced pressure in my chest, we lay side by side. It had been fun, but something was missing. Ok, I had a clear idea, but now was not the time to talk. Now was the time to cuddle with Freya.