I was awake as soon as it dawned and the birds began their morning concert. Freya was still lying on my lower belly, hugging me tightly and snoring.

Who was cute now? Although I was also hugging her warm body with my forepaws ...

I pulled the last carrot out of the saddlebag and blew off the ants. I ate it slowly, savouring every bite as I listened to the birds twittering. A light mist still hung between the trees, marking the few sun rays that made it through the thick canopy. It was a crisp spring morning straight out of a tourist brochure, or in my case, out of a fairy tale. Still, Freya's overgrown teddy bear had to go. I rolled her gently onto her coat over my good left side. She slept on, certainly not an early riser.

Then I rose very carefully. The skin on my right hind flank was tight and the blood clot had stuck to the surrounding fur. It hurt, but much less than yesterday. Walking the few steps to relieve myself, washing my face in the stream and drinking were no problem. The pain did not change, it was still very noticeable but not excruciating.

When I returned, the sudden absence of Kiara had done the trick: Freya was awake and called something incomprehensible to me. She shook her head again and went to the stream to wash and drink.

I had tried the leaves of a nearby bush but they were insipid. There were no other low branches with leaves around, just dry beach leaves on the ground and they were like cardboard. (I am not sure how cardboard would taste to me now. Could I distinguish, oh, freshly made from northern firs, or, uh, thrice-recycled wobbly rubbish?) For breakfast, I ate half the second loaf. I don't think dieting will ever be an issue in my future, as I was still hungry.

When Freya came back, I put on my best face and smiled. "Freya, good morning. Coming, riding big cat waiting."

She giggled and patted my lower back. "You are impossible. Wound first."

She made a long inspection. "It seems much better. But I wouldn't mind walking."

"I thinked you more hugging fur loving?"

Freya blushed deeply. Maybe that had not come across at all.

"Come here, big cat riding!"

She stood up. "Please tell me you are just mocking me."

"Sorry, I no speaking well?"

"No, and you know it!" And so the language lesson continued, successfully distracting me from the pain in my right hind flank.

* * *

It was early afternoon, the sun had already passed its highest point and made me sweat even in the shade of the trees. Then our trail exited the forest on top of vineyards. A hot wind was blowing uphill out of another wide valley that curved from west to north.

Freya's spirits were high. "This is the Ratern Valley, Republic lands. We can reach Ratern tonight if we keep up this pace."

"Only me walking", I pointed out.

"Sorry. But I am really looking forward to it. A big town, you will like it."

So far, the small villages and camping in the open had not been a problem for me. For a former city dweller, I had become quite fond of nature over the past few days. Untamed, fresh, unspoilt, pleasant, at least at this time of year. Not sure, if I will like the towns. For me, medieval towns were connected with open sewers, rats, the plague, burning witches to name a few. Yes, the urban Middle Ages desperately needed work to defy my expectations.

And another thing worried me now, as I have to be careful with this huge body, not to step on someone's foot or accidentally wipe out a shop display with my tail.

"Are you worried about walking downhill? I will walk, so you can rest your leg a bit."

Well, I had not thought of that, but she was right. Going downhill put a lot of strain on the legs, especially the forelegs. The braking on the occasional patch of loose gravel required full effort and sent a sharp pain up my right hind leg.

So we slowly descended the sandy paths along the edge of the vineyards until we reached the higher end of a village. It was very different from the villages before, it almost felt like a town. It was much larger than the previous villages, with more than fifty houses, stone houses or wooden frame second floors over a ground floor with stone walls. Most of them had two storeys or more. A large manor stood over the village, clearly proclaiming the wealth of its owner. Or, as Freya explained, the wealth of the vineyards. Most villages were owned by one family. Republic did not mean lack of nobility, as I had mistakenly assumed. On second thought, wasn't ancient Rome a republic, even though it had slaves and an emperor? At least this Republic had no slavery, which was outlawed, and no bondmen either.

The roads in the village were narrow, just wide enough for a wagon at best. People gave way as we approached. But I would do the same in their place, when a huge cattaur faces me with its rider and with dried blood on its hindquarters. After a few turns left and right we came to the marketplace. It was an elongated triangle, with a slope even across the cobbled area. On the lower valley-facing end, at the apex of the triangle, there was a temple, no question, eight columns in a semicircle with a dome above. But it was far too small to hold more than a few citizens, no bigger than a house. The market itself was over, only a few stalls were open in the afternoon heat.

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More important to me was the large fountain with stone basins on two levels. Since the "do not drink" signs were yet to be invented, we drank our fill. The water was fresh, with a metallic aftertaste. Of course, travellers in general were an attraction, even more so a taur like me. And no matter what I did, even if it was such mundane tasks as drinking. They made some amused comments, like the mount and its rider drinking together. Freya shouted something at them and then introduced herself and me. I could understand it, I was proud alone of that. What Freya said made me blush because she used the 'swift as a horse, strong as a tiger and gentle as a squirrel' line if I heard correctly.

But it did the trick. They came closer, hesitantly. I invited a child to stroke my fur. It came close, very carefully did a few strokes. Then it smiled "You smell like cake!", it shouted hugging my good hind leg. That cleared the air, they started asking questions. All at once, too quickly.

"Slowing, slowing" I said and backed up until I hit the rim of the fountain. Freya was no help, she was at a stall buying lunch.

"Please, slowing!" I shouted louder than I wanted. That momentarily silenced them. "Child first."

And they let the children come first. I had never been a children's person before. But since I arrived here, with so many young people around me, something had changed. Well, apart from my body of course. And the children were open, no truths set in stone, no taur warrior woman is scary just because she is taur. Soon I was surrounded by children stroking this big cat. A sweaty big cat with a bloody leg, enjoying the attention. When I tried to tell them about the wound and the highwaymen, they all looked at me in awe. They did not mind my lack of words. After all, adults explained things to them all the time, so why should not they explain things to a big cat taur woman?

After a while Freya returned with a loaf of bread, some cabbage heads and two bottles of wine. She pushed through the children and put the food into the bags. "You really are a child person. We should charge for petting you."

"Next walking children."

"You are incorrigible, your cute cat! I want exclusive petting rights."

I blushed. Luckily, she was using mindspeak. Still, her definition of cute must have a very different baseline if it included sweaty, big, bloody cats.

"Only children cuddling now!"

"Are you ok? We have to go," she said slowly. Even if I hadn't understood her, the children's faces would have told me.

"Sorry. Here, buying sweets!" I handed out two copper coins and the children quickly ran to the sweet stall.

"Let's go now."

Freya nodded. My first perfect sentence, apparently. Progress, yes!

* * *

The last houses extended to the bottom of the vineyards, where the valley widened and the fields began. The wagon road soon merged with a larger cobbled road that ran close to this side of the valley. Its pavement was not in too bad condition. Unfortunately, it was in the full sun between the fields, with only the occasional tree or hedgerow providing some shade.

My hard, hoof-like plates, embedded in the palms of my paws, made a horse-like clattering sound on the stones. But it was uncomfortable. The small, uneven stones did not go well with my large paws, and the plates in my palms were much smaller than hooves and often slipped sideways, bending and spreading my toes. In the end, I walked as close to the sandy banks of the road as I could, brushing the tall grass and the occasional thorny bush. I would rather have taken a long detour through the forest than follow this road.

Every three miles or so there was another village and between them, the hilly ridge came close to the road with a stretch of forest separating the vineyards. All the villages were dominated by a large manor house, sometimes two. Very few had more modest buildings but with temples: monasteries. Twice the manor had a nearby fortress. All these were the residences of the owners of the vineyards. Ownership passed from generation to generation through marriage and inheritance.

To be honest, the rich passing on their wealth was common in my world, but a change of class or new nobility seemed even less likely here. Freya also explained a little more about the Republic. It sounded not very democratic: Only the head of these villages, be it a lord, baron, count or senior cleric, could vote, and then only for the district assembly, which voted upwards, and so on. As ordinary citizens could not vote, they did not care much about being a republic. Political parties were unknown, but there were progressive and conservative leaders. Since we were still close to the southern border, this region had been settled long ago and thus was one of the most conservative areas of the Republic.

One thing the Republic prided itself on was equal justice for all. Judges were elected, but they answered to no one. Even leaders were not immune to the law, and more than once a reign was ended by a trial. Although this explanation was entirely in mindspeak, the various aspects needed several iterations to carry through. Mindspeak was not as universal as I had thought, the more abstract the topic was, the less meaning it carried.

Time for language lessons again, but with a more practical vocabulary for basic life than remote politics.

The other side of the valley had disappeared in the afternoon mist, and we were baking in the late afternoon heat at the bottom of the valley. The sweat stung my wound but Freya urged me on. To her credit, she got down and walked beside me. She distracted me with a few obscene curses. I immediately tried them out on the cobbles. My garbled pronunciation must have taken on a different meaning because Freya laughed so hard that we had to stop. Finally, she touched me and corrected me in mindspeak. "You said these stones should kiss your balls with yellow flowers." Then she repeated the correct one. But somehow the curse sounded too lame, there was no rolling R and no hissing or strong K-clicking or any of those other relieving noises. The next time I cursed in Earth and it was very relieving. Freya jumped half a metre away from my strong language and the foreign words. Now I laughed, and we laughed together.

There was little traffic on the road that late in the day. Every half hour we passed a wagon and occasionally a cart. The wagons were either loaded with wine barrels heading north, or almost empty, with just a few sacks of whatever they were trading back. We also passed two merchants with large wooden rucksacks of their wares. Each stopped and chatted with Freya, my only contribution being a greeting. One was selling sewing tools and the other had a grindstone for sharpening knives, sickles and whatever else. But Freya kept the conversation short, as we wanted to reach Ratern before sunset.

She explained that the travelling merchant moved to a different village every day because there was little demand for these specialised goods. Besides, there was not much trade this early in the year. More often they traded stories as they travelled. These travelling merchants were the equivalent of a local newspaper, spreading news and rumours. Soon everyone in the valley would know that a taur had passed through.

Eventually, a small brook flowed between villages, unpolluted. We could drink and fill our empty water sacks. Otherwise, we would have needed to climb up a side road to a village. But we could continue on the main road, where, through the haze, one could see larger buildings at the bottom of the valley, Ratern.

Closer to Ratern, the ridge to my right became steeper, too steep for vineyards. The ridge was covered with forest but more and more red cliffs showed through the trees.