It was cloudy but dry and not too hot - the perfect travelling weather.

Freya lay on my back, her legs dangling to either side, her few belongings rattling from time to time in the rather empty saddlebag. The only thing of mine in there was a knife I had bought on a hunch before we left, just after we had visited the general for the last time. On the other side of the saddlebag was a large packet of letters, separated by a blanket from the four remaining cabbages I had bought as a snack.

Breakfast did not last long, the camp was barely out of sight before I took the first cabbage out of the bag and bit off large chunks. I never thought I would eat raw cabbage, but it was fresh and crunchy. My palate had certainly been transformed too.

"I have never ridden so comfortably. Your fur is so much softer than any saddle, your back is flat like a bed and you sway so little. You even walk so calmly that I feel like I am riding on a cloud."

I was embarrassed, not sure how to take this compliment as I had just commanded my body to walk at a fast pace, more like my former running speed. Despite taking incredible deep breaths, I could go on like this for hours, like I was doing a walk, even with Freya and the bags. "Thank you," I mumbled as I chewed the cabbage. Not that I had much control over my movements, I just asked this strange body or rather one of the voices. A body that had obviously been carefully crafted by whoever or whatever. Now, as Freya mentioned, I walked indeed silently. Again, all automatic.

After the cabbage was consumed, I asked Freya for language lessons. So far, I could say Freya's name in her language and that was it.

* * *

Two hours and hundreds of new words later (or so it felt) we came to a lively gurgling brook. Once again, I was amazed at how much I was drinking, even though I hadn't felt that thirsty moments before. Well, I am a big girl now. The water from the brook was clear and crisp, I drank a little more: I shuddered at the thought of the water in the waterskins, and the sun was out. Thus, I rather drank a little more.

Then we followed the brook until the forest gave way to a wide plateau with fields and a small village in the distance. The path forked, the main path following the brook down into the valley. However, we took the less trodden trail, which led straight ahead to a wide ridge covered with dense forest running from left to right. It was not very high, but the trail began to climb and I began to sweat, even panting like a dog with my tongue out. Then I discovered a new use for my tail. Swinging it around was a good way to cool off.

Freya enjoyed it too, she found the swaying motion too funny. Good, because the language lessons had to stop, I was running out of breath.

I was grateful for the shade of the woods, as the path was still winding uphill. Didn't I dance much longer yesterday, much wilder than this slow walk uphill?

A felt eternity later, or more like half an hour in reality, the trail flattened out and led into a dark and cool fir wood. It was impossible to stray from the path now, not even deer tracks crossed into the dense wood. Slowly my breathing returned to normal.

"Say, where stopping?" I was sure my pronunciation was terrible.

"Well done. There will be a roadhouse soon."

"Sorry, no understanding."

She sighed and used mindspeak. "There will be a roadhouse soon. We will eat and get some news."

"Are we making good progress?" I had given up speaking their language.

"Please, at least try. But yes, we are making good progress. You are faster than a centaur. I thought we would stop here for the night. But it is only past noon. Funny, the centaur can barely keep up with a horse. And you look like a cat, sorry. A nice fluffy cat, a distractingly nice cat. I mean, cats just run and then sleep. But you have more endurance than some horses."

"Freya, please, I have nothing to do with that. I would rather walk on two legs."

"Would you like to try? Shall I get down?"

Now I was curious myself. "Yes, let's try."

Freya dismounted and took off the saddlebag. I stood up on my hind legs, Freya's shoulders were on level with my lower shoulders. It was very wobbly because suddenly every voice was screaming at me, the human, not to balance on my hind legs. And I had no idea how. But I didn't fall over right away. I took ten steps before I landed on my forelegs with a thud. "No," I shook my head. "Coming!"

Freya got back on. "That was not bad. But, you know, I still don't get it. Why did they send those poor centaurs when they had something like you? It makes no sense."

"At least I did not have to fight."

"Yes, lucky for you. Besides, you didn't have any training."

It was a statement of fact. We had already talked about it in the camp. And yes, it did not add up. But neither did ending up in another world. I praised my luck, appearing on a battlefield could have ended much worse. Two legs would have been nice. But then I would never be able to walk this fast and this easy, and I would never be able to carry anyone. Compared to my paws, I pitied the people here, because with the shoes I had seen, my feet would be bleeding after walking today's distance.

* * *

Soon we joined a dirt road which roughly followed a contour line. The roadhouse was the end of a small side valley, less than two hundred steps wide, with a meadow in front. The house was made of logs and the roof of wood shingles. All in all, it reminded me more of a Canadian lumberjack's cabin than a roadhouse.

We enjoyed the sunshine outside and shared a canteen of thin mead. A few sheep and newborn lambs were grazing in the meadow. Then a thick slice of lamb hanging from its bones arrived on Freya's plate. Freya dug into the meat. Although I had never been a vegetarian, I would not have been able to eat it then. And certainly not now. Instead, I had a big bowl of a kind of porridge. It was based on a very diluted soup with a little sheep's milk and lots of local seeds. It was very good, the seeds gave it a heavy, earthy flavour. I had eaten three-quarters of it when I had an idea. I got up on my hind legs and tore two handfuls of needles from the nearest pine because they smelled delicious after tasting the seeds. And they had been the missing ingredient. Now it was full of young forest flavour, really great. While I waited for my second helping to boil, I picked more pine needles.

Freya and the innkeeper both looked amused that I was adding pine needles to my porridge. People staring at me would be something normal with this body. In their place, I would stare too. So I ignored them. Ignoring stares was something I would have plenty of time to work on.

"Hej lass, you are much more pleasing to the eye than those centaurs." I did not notice Freya put her hand on my lower shoulder. She even made her translation sound like his voice. "But the centaurs are better for business, half a pig, with cabbage and all the carrots I can find. You dilute the cabbage soup with pine seeds and needles." The innkeeper's laughter sounded more like he was choking.

"Anyway, lass, you eat pine needles with a spoon. Much more pleasing to the eye and the nose. Gods, the centaurs stank."

I stopped and sniffed. But the strong smell of the aforementioned pine needles in my mouth was the only thing I could smell right now. I made an approving noise as I chewed.

"Lass, what are you?" "Wait!" The last word was clearly added by Freya. Then she broke contact and began a long explanation, probably involving centaurs and clerics. A few words from the morning lessons that I recognised. Not enough to make sense of it yet. And the grinding sound of the needles being properly chewed was an additional challenge.

* * *

Later, back on the road, Freya told me that she had just given the facts about how I was found on the battlefield and that the clerics wanted to meet me.

I was a little disappointed, I had expected a more elaborate yarn. Like the 'faster than' mythical declamation she had made back in the camp.

Freya laughed, "You are so entertaining. You've spoilt me for life."

"What?"

"Travelling with you is what travelling should be. Hoho, my brave fluffy cloud," she stopped her mindspeak. "Let's speak Kren."

The language lessons were a good distraction for me too.

It was late afternoon when the forest receded to the sides and the path descended a little into a valley of meadows and fields. A village lay ahead.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

"This is Liknow. We will stay here overnight."

I was proud to understand her without mindspeak. From here, Liknow had about fifteen large houses.

Looking at the fields, it must be early summer or late spring.

"Freya, please! Sitting! Forward!"

"Please turn around or sit forward," she corrected me and turned around. "Why?"

Instead of answering, I started to run or gallop, or whatever my fastest four-legged gait was called. It sounded stupid, but after hours of walking in the woods, I felt like racing down the gentle slope towards the village. I had not tested my top speed, I told myself. And I started to push until the wind made my eyes water. I equalled the top speed of my bicycle back on Earth.

Freya must have had a rough ride, but she shouted "Yippee!", encouraging me to push even harder.

The two miles or so to the village whizzed past us. I stopped at the first house, almost choking, really fighting for air. Magically created body or not, the amount of oxygen I could take in through my mouth and nose would not have sustained this furious pace for another second.

Despite being out of breath, or rather because I was wheezing loudly as if choking on an asthma attack, the approaching villagers kept their distance. Children and women at the back, men with pitchforks, knives and round wooden balls on long wooden sticks at the front. They cast brief glances at Freya, but mostly stared at her mount, me.

After a few words from Freya, the people lowered their pitchforks and tools and smiled, especially when Freya led me to a fountain in the centre of the village. There was a tame, friendly, strange creature.

The village fountain was a greenish-dark pipe protruding from a three-metre-high rock. It spewed water into a stone basin below and then flew on across the square to join the brook outside the village.

The water was clear and cool, most welcome. I had to drink tiny sips at first, until my breathing returned to normal and I could quench my thirst with larger gulps. Freya had moved to the other side of the square in the shade of the houses and was talking to the village elders. The children and adolescents surrounded me at a respectful distance.

"My name is Kiara," I said, smiling.

An older teen stepped forward. "Welcome to Liknow. My name is Kulow, son of Dreg. You regu dron fet?"

Unfortunately, I had reached the end of my vocabulary. So I went on the offensive. "You riding me?"

My grammar and pronunciation were certainly wrong, but I could see that he was tempted. "Let's riding."

As soon as he was within reach, I picked him up. He weighed next to nothing. I threw him in the air before placing him on my back.

"A two child"

Seeing him riding on my back had not convince them. Just then a girl, almost a woman, stepped forward. "Greetings, I am Jana, daughter of Tscheres. I will join him."

I threw her up in the air as well and sat her down in front of Kulow, which was probably her intention. Anyway, happy if I can help.

"Let's going." The children quickly cleared a path when I started to move. After two normal steps to check the balance on my back, I took off. Not as crazy as before, but certainly faster than any of them could have ever ridden on a farm horse.

Soon they were shouting with delight. I kept up my speed. Then I decided to jump over a log by the side of the road.

I had seriously underestimated my body's ability to jump. We flew maybe two metres over the log and landed more than ten metres away, where I stopped just before sliding into the brook. It took a few seconds for the adrenaline to die down for all of us.

"Fun?" I panted, and then slowly walked back.

Back at the fountain, Freya was washing under the spout, her clothes beside her.

She shouted something at me. I had no chance to ask her because the children had already opened the buckle and three of them were carrying the saddlebag to Freya.

No one seemed to think it was unusual to be naked by the fountain, although some of the younger men certainly looked in Freya's direction for longer. A cold shower sounded like a good way to end the day. But no rest for me, now there was a queue for a ride.

After the next round, Freya was drying herself in the sun, sitting naked on a rock by the fountain and chatting to an old woman. Lazy healer, I thought, I had carried her all this way and even paid her.

By the time I returned from the seventh round trip, I had developed a certain routine. My breathing was better, deeper, my jumps longer, my landings softer, more controlled and, most importantly, closer to where I wanted them to be. But I was exhausted.

Still, they persuaded me to do a final act as a merry-go-round on the fountain square with the little ones. It was less strenuous, but more painful with them clinging so tightly to my fur. When I winced and one of the older children walking beside me saw this, he promptly pulled the offender's hair. "Never grab fur!" he shouted at the shocked toddler.

I was surprised at his harsh reaction. I could tolerate them grabbing. Then I thought: if they did that to a dog or a horse, they would get bitten or kicked. This is a harsh world.

The warm late afternoon sun on the fountain square did little to cool me. I was drenched in sweat and even the fur on my lower body was clinging to my skin. So I took a shower under the fountain's spout. After three minutes in the fresh, clear water I had cooled down a bit and felt much cleaner. Oh, I was wrong. The beauty treatment was about to begin.

They took my shirt and started rubbing it on a wooden washboard.

Others came with several wooden combs, two coarse brushes and even a rusty steel brush, all organised while I did the last rounds with the toddlers. The steel brush looked the most dangerous, with its finger-long spikes: more like a fakir's toiletry. (It was a typical horse grooming tool, I later learnt.) I did not understand much, but they wanted to clean me as they would a horse. I looked for Freya, but she was still gone. So I just smiled at them and waited what was coming for me.

First they wiped away my sweat with dry straw. When my fur was dry enough, it was time for the combs and the steel brush. The steel brush was handled by Kulow and it was not as bad as I had feared. He was careful and gentle and removed a surprisingly large amount of loose fur. Did I get my summer coat? Others used wooden combs. Younger children used their hands to remove burdock and other seeds from my fur, especially the legs and belly.

I had to lift my paws one at a time and they looked for any seeds or needles between the toes. When I was allowed to put all my paws down again, I started to enjoy standing in the afternoon sun and being pampered, even if only pampered like a horse. Suddenly, my lower body began to rumble, worrying the children (and me) until I realised I was purring like a cat. I laughed and the children continued. I had no control over the purring and it was not arousal, just relaxing.

Some of the children had put my shirt on a rake and were running around hoisting the shirt on the rake like a sail through the air to dry it faster.

My fur was more tangled than I thought, but the children knew their job. I had been overdue for some fur care: A huge pile of old fur lay on a blanket.

"What old hair doing?"

One girl looked up.

I must have looked confused.

She laughed, picked up some old fur and put her hands on her head. She closed her eyes. "Kiss"

Fur for a pillow! I remembered an advertisement for a horsehair mattress. Now the world also had Kiara-filled pillows. "Your kiss?"

She smiled. "Yes, my gund."

And by now, my fur had become as shiny and fluffy as the clouds in the sky. It moved in the light breeze, the wind even tickled it a little. And it was cooler too, just lovely.

Then one of the girls jumped on my back and went through my hair with a tiny comb, removing the seeds and needles. And went deeper and deeper! I hadn't noticed that I had a short mane halfway down my upper back until I felt the pull of her comb between my shoulder blades. I really wish I had a mirror.

Others made tiny braids out of the long tails on the back of my flanks. It looked very elegant. I cursed my limited vocabulary for not being able to praise their work more.

* * *

When it was all over, they played Rock, Wood, Well again (which I knew better as Rock Paper Scissors). If I understood correctly, it was for the honour of having me for dinner.

Somehow the game must have been rigged, because we ended up at the house of the village elders, who were sitting with Freya on a bench in the backyard, looking out at the darkening evening sky. As my guide made the complicated farewell gestures and retreated quickly, an understanding dawned. They had just competed for the right to escort me here.

"Hrmpf!"

Freya jumped up and ran towards me. She stroked my back fur. "Even softer than before. Honestly, you look like you came straight from a king's coat of arms."

I blushed, not knowing how to respond to the compliment. "It's all the children's work."

"I saw the first rides. You made their day!"

"But you look beautiful too."

She beamed at me. But it was true. Her blond hair now had shine. It was also braided and hung halfway down her back. She wore a white shirt and a dark, thick skirt that came just above her knees. She had a leather strap bound over her shirt, not for support but to accentuate her small breasts and feminine figure, especially compared to the more robustly built women of the village, some of whom had almost more biceps than I did. She clearly enjoyed being ogled. "Let's join the others."

I could barely fit through the doorway.

A small fire was burning in the big fireplace, roasting two chickens. But Freya had made my vegetarian preferences known, and of the two large pots boiling in front, the left one was for me alone. It contained the first carrots harvested this week. Much to their dismay, I asked them to add the carrot greens, which smelled really good. In fact, I had eaten fried carrot greens in my world, the signature dish of my Asian neighbour. The bitter aftertaste did not exist in this world, at least not for my new body, when I nibbled on them. Instead, the leaves were sour-sweet, like Chinese. Nevertheless, I cooked them in the pot with the carrots and the other vegetables.

Eventually, dinner was declared ready, and I sat on the floor with my legs folded under me at one end of the table, Freya on a normal chair at the other, and the village elder's family on either side. Then there was a short thanks to the gods (probably, I really had to ask Freya about that) before we could eat. No cutlery, of course, and even the soup was eaten by hand. They drank the liquid and then just ate the solids.

My bowl was big and stayed hot for a long time. So I had to eat slowly, even though I was hungry. The soup was worth it, delicious, and the carrots were really like candy. No wonder the centaurs here craved carrots. I had three servings, but the big pot was too big even for me to finish.

Having eaten so much, I felt nature's call. I went outside, but instead of trying to fit into the outhouse, I jumped over the hedge and relieved myself a little further away in the meadow.

The moon looked like it did back home, or at least the way a city dweller like me remembered it. I could say nothing about the stars. I saw no familiar constellations, there were simply too many stars for that. Even in the mountains in winter, once on a skiing holiday, I could not remember seeing so many stars.

I yawned to the point where I feared I could never shut my mouth again. A lazy jump back into the garden, then back to the single room. Freya and the elder drank a local brew, but I was too tired. They had laid a blanket for me on the floor on the other side of the room, away from the fire. The blanket reached from my outstretched forepaws to just below my lower ribcage. But my hips were still supported by my hind paws, which I tucked under me. This time I also tucked my tail under me, so that the two paws were in front of me, with the now very fluffy tail between them. I snuggled between my forepaws. Whoever designed this body had probably not planned for this but had nevertheless done a good job.

I silently thanked the children again for their great grooming, everything was so soft and smelled faintly of cinnamon. My last thought was that one of the girls was probably cuddling her new cinnamon-scented pillow, and then I was fast asleep.