Finally, the walls of Ratern came into view, glowing in the sunset. The town had been built on the edge of a ravine that joined the main valley here. Steep red cliffs hung over the city. The city walls spanned the width of the gorge from cliff to cliff. The walls were not very high in most places, the second floor of many of the townhouses was higher.

I was tired and thirsty, my paws ached and the wound on my hind leg was oozing again. Despite this, I was determined to make a dash for the gate. Naturally, I was irritated when Freya stopped me instead. "Why? Only half a mile going?"

"Half a mile to go, yes. But I will walk. Please. Save Sdsafs." She deliberately spoke not in mindspeak. Then she took off her tunic and jumped in her good clothes, sweaty from the hot summer day. "Ready?"

"Then going," and started to walk briskly just in spite.

Freya was not as tired as I was, having been on my back for the last hour. She ran leisurely beside me. I tried to pout. If she was so determined to walk, she could have dismounted earlier. But her smile thwarted all my efforts. I gave up. "Why walking Freya?"

"No Sdsadf for dffsfds."

I just shook my head. "Try easier."

"No money for walking, but money for riding?"

I shrugged. "Word understanding. But not understanding."

She slowed to a normal walk. "Please, later. The gate is closing." And she ran ahead.

Indeed, as soon as the last rays of sunlight left the gate tower, they began to move the great leaves of the gate. Of course, they saw us and another wagon in front of us. Nevertheless, they closed one of the wings.

I let Freya go in front, expecting problems. And indeed, we were not allowed to enter. Even I realised that the guards wanted our money. New world, familiar problems.

Freya argued with her hands, even pulling out her healer's tunic. I had to show my wound, answer some questions. As the other wing of the gate closed behind us, it suddenly became very dark. The guards gave up and led us away.

"Imbecile!" she cursed in mindspeak, "the wanted gate toll. For pedestrians! Of course, the rule is that a mount plus rider pays a knight's toll. But a mount cannot speak." And so on.

Well, I had seen nothing that looked like a talking mount, apart from the centaurs. So clearly, I was not a mount, since I had answered their questions. But it had been my money. And Freya had double standards, hadn't she been comfortable on my back just half an hour before? "Thinking centaurs paying more?" I tried to distract her.

"Er, with these guys sure."

My distraction had the desired effect: Freya again paid attention to our surroundings. Because I had no idea where to go.

The houses were mostly timber-framed and looked poorer than those in the vine villages, lacking a stone ground floor. Most of the houses also looked in desperate need of repair: The wooden beams had faded in the sun, the thatch showed where the clay had fallen off, the clapboards were rotten and missing, and very few had any paint at all. But there was life, talking, singing, clanging, shouting, the whole spectrum. And all quite audible, for none of the window frames had glass panes, they were just empty frames with wooden shutters.

And this was a real town, with hundreds of houses overhanging the streets. The latter because the tax was based on the ground floor area, a universal concept (like taxes in general) that transcends worlds. Unfortunately, the overhang was also used to compensate for the lack of plumbing. And while the overhang created the same dark lighting as deep in the forest, the smell was not at all fresh. In the shadows of the fading twilight, it was hard to navigate through the stinking piles of manure and pig shit (the local rubbish collectors). And I had four big paws to keep clean. Freya overtook me easily.

Soon there was a shout from the tower, probably 'six o'clock, return home' or something like that.

Then we came to a large open area, the market, where the pigs were eating the last of the leftovers. But it had large areas of safe navigation (probably where the market stalls were during the day) and I was able to catch up with Freya. It was a challenge to quickly identify all the piles on the ground in the fading twilight. There were no streetlamps, of course, and only a few windows were lit. With the darkness, the sounds also faded. But our destination was near: An inn was just around the corner.

Getting a room for the two of us involved another lengthy discussion. I was to sleep in the stable. Only after my protests, more loud than understandable, was I allowed to stay with Freya. I was quite sure that the landlady still charged us for three. (It would have been fair if the food had been included.) Anyway, Freya paid out of my purse ...

The room was up a steep and narrow staircase: My first encounter with these contraptions in this world. And the ceiling was low, so cheating and just walking on my hind legs was out of the question. However, going up was easy. In the narrow corridor that followed, I would not be able to make way for anyone, but I had no problem reaching our room. And the door opened inwards, sparing me the otherwise impossible 170-degree turn or the embarrassment of walking backwards.

I unbuckled my saddlebag and was ready for dinner. Although I would like a shower or a bath. "Do you think I can get a bath here?"

"In Ratern, now? Usually, you go a little further upriver to the Gorge Gate. But that is closed now. And a bathhouse is out of the question, at least for someone your size. But"

"Yes?"

"I know you won't like it, but a groom would be very cheap."

I sighed. "After all the trouble of convincing the landlady?"

"You've already paid. She accepted. A deal is a deal."

I dropped my head in protest. But no choice. "Please lead."

I was very worried about going down the stairs. But to my surprise, the steps themselves were fine. Squirrel's voice assured me that it was right to go head down. But the human Kiara did not feel right. I tried to bend backwards. But I was not flexible enough for a taur Limbo dancing under the beams. I sighed and went down on all six limbs. Then it was child's play.

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

With Freya's help, I asked for a vegetable soup with lots of leaves, including carrot greens and all the other leaves not otherwise used. The landlady looked at me like a crazy fool. This time she was probably too scared to overcharge, at least Freya thought the money was fair.

It was late in the evening. The stove was already cold and it would take some time to rekindle the fire and cook our dinner. So we went to the stable next door. The tired groom there was very uncomfortable that I was ordering and paying for my own grooming. Clearly not how the world should work. Still, money was money. Uneasy, he hurried through the grooming, but in his own skillful way. There was not much dead fur, though. Most of that had been removed by the children two days ago. But his tools were better and in a short time my fur was no longer stuck to my flanks, it was silky and even fluffy again. The grooming did tend to intensify my cinnamon smell. But I would need a proper bath to get rid of it.

Freya was already having a beer when I returned. When I asked, she just pointed to the garden. There was a well with two buckets on ropes. The water smelled bad - literally like shit, like the whole town. The outhouse across the yard did not help. I made a note to drink only boiled water and admitted defeat.

When I got back, my big vegetable stew was ready. Maybe it was the water, but even the stew had the smell of the city in it, and some of the leaves were a bit wilted. But it was filling.

"I'm going to sleep."

"Are you sure you won't join us for a beer or two?"

So far, that had been more like five beers. "No, sleeping!" and yawned.

"Your loss."

"Good night." Then I walked up the steep stairs to our room. Getting up was really easy, even without squirrel's help, just ignoring the angry creaking of the wood.

* * *

Someone knocked at the door. I got up slowly, sleepy. "Yes?"

I didn't recognise the silhouette in the dim light of the single candle. "Please come down and see your dsdfjkhf."

"Yes," I followed him, carefully navigating the narrow, steep staircase on all fours.

When I was downstairs, he pointed to Freya. She had fallen asleep on the table.

"Thank you," I sighed. There must be a reason why she overdid it. I pried the still quarter-full mug out of her hands, put her head and arms over my upper shoulder and went up the stairs. In our room, I put her on the bed, which was too small for me anyway.

Then I went back to sleep, tail down and head on my paws, my own mattress, ignoring the dying noises from the tavern below.

* * *

As usual, I awoke at the crack of dawn. The inn was still dark and quiet. And using all six limbs made the stairs creak a lot less than walking up on four legs. Outside the stars were already gone. And the early morning allowed me to use the outhouse in the courtyard without too much embarrassment, my front half sticking out of the door. And then a quick face wash with the cold but smelly well water from a mouldy bucket. But it was less disgusting than yesterday. Perhaps my sense of smell had been dulled?

When I returned, a maid was already working in the kitchen.

"Good morning. Please, cabbage?" I called to her.

She came to the counter and almost dropped the mug she was carrying.

I smiled gently, not wanting to show my fangs. "I'm Kiara. Here sleepinged."

"I am Lea." Then she bowed her head. "Sorry, welcome to the Broken Mug. For breakfast sdgf sdfgdf bebreje."

"Only cabbage, please. Meat no!" I shook my head.

"You sfsdfsd from Kwal?"

I guessed she asked about my origin. "No, far away." Ok, technically I was probably brought to this world in Kwal, if Freya's suspicion was true. But that explanation was still far out of my range of communication.

"And eggs, not bacon? Herwfer asd Cabbage eggs?"

Since none of the voices protested too violently, I nodded. "Good, Cabbage eggs."

"Five eggs, seven coppers."

I counted the seven coins on the counter and sat down on my haunches.

She reappeared a short time later with a large plate of cabbage and eggs, with a local variety of parsley. Even the squirrel told me to eat, not just look. It was great, so much better than yesterday's hotpot. I asked for some bread and then ordered another plate. The complimentary mint tea was rather watery, but at least it was boiled water and the mint took much of the smell away.

During the second plate, the next early riser arrived and soon all five tables were occupied. I thought I saw at least one cleric. He was also eating cabbage eggs, so my wish was not so unusual. And instead of beer, he drank the same mint tea. That was where the similarities ended: He was in a hurry and wolfed it down. All the time with a face to spoil the milk. In my world, he would have carried a briefcase and rushed to an upmarket fast-food restaurant to check his smartphone while his share price plummeted.

I was positively full, my stomach in the lower body was stretched, filled to the brim. While I was digesting and waiting for Freya, I looked around. I did not know enough about the guilds and professions here, and I had no idea who would be staying in an inn. So I tried to guess the professions and then imagined them in my world. The slightly fat guy in the corner would be a trucker in a diner, getting fuel for the long haul and having half his social interaction for the day. Hence his friendly face and animated conversation with his neighbour, a tall young man. I decided on a musician who was hitchhiking with the trucker.

On the table next to them were two women, one young and one old. They looked as different as possible, perhaps master and apprentice. They wore matching leather jackets with lots of pockets. I decided on embroiderers on their way to a noble house. Back home, hmm, private hairstylists, the morning before a big gig at the arts festival.

Then there was the returned solder with his still unofficial sweetheart. Eyes only for themselves, not even a glance in my direction! Even though taurs were not common around here. But today he will go to her house and ask for her hand. Still good for modern times, I decided.

That left the last table. These two were rangers or hunters. They had feathered berets on their table, real green berets, not military style, and the equipment next to them included two longbows. They shared a large roasted bird for breakfast, which in itself was a statement.

That left me as the odd one out here. Back home, or rather far away, people might think of me as a cosplayer.

I asked for another cup of tea and wondered if I should wake Freya. Before the tea was cold enough to drink, Freya came down the stairs, ran to me and hugged me tightly. "I thought you were gone," she said in mindspeak.

"Good morning, Freya. Where should I go? Come on, clean yourself up, you stink of beer. I will wait here."

She let go, "Sorry."

I smiled. "Wash up!"

Soon she was back, ordering bacon and eggs. Still smelly.

"Traveling road again?"

"What do you mean."

"Road making paws paining."

Freya sighted. "The road hurts your paws?"

"Not hurt." Frustrated, I grabbed her hand for mindspeak. I mean, I whispered. "My paws' toes bend too much on the cobbles. Walking on sand or wood is easier, and the valley is so hot. Is there another way?"

"Hmm." Then she got up and walked over to the hunters/rangers who were just leaving. Just a quick exchange and she came back.

"If you don't mind a few hills, there is indeed a shortcut, as the Ratern Valley joins the Kren River, which we would have to follow northeast."

"Great, let's follow that route."

"They said it is not suitable for horses."

"Good thing we don't have any," I grinned.

* * *

The town was very different in the morning. When we left the inn, the sun was up and there was a light breeze coming from the gorge. Everyone was up and about. There were even people collecting all the excrement. (They sell it to farmers, Freya told me.) Hard to believe, but good to know someone cared. Without worrying about where to put my paws, my attention went to the different styles of clothing. Brown and earth tones dominated, either from the natural colour of the fabric or from a long attack of stains. Scarves, headbands and wristbands stood out in brighter colours. Freya could tell which guild the people belonged to. And occasionally there were free men, either rich or noble, easily identifiable by their fancy clothes.

The market was packed with stalls and customers. Even at the edge, there was little space. But Freya wanted to buy provisions, which meant going straight in. I held my tail high and stiff so as not to accidentally whack someone in the face. The occasional brushing of tent poles was a side effect.

And then there was the noise. Apart from the first evening, which felt much longer than four days ago, I had not heard so many human voices talking over each other. Or much noise at all. But here, the merchants shouting their wares from their stalls, the children giggling and running in between, the haggling customers, all mixed together in a strangely familiar city noise, unaffected by the new language or even the lack of cars. The buzz of a city.