Diavla eyed Tom as he seemed to brood. She could tell he was worried.

We've traveled together for six days now. Eight, actually, if you don't ignore that he was guarding the slavers for a couple of days before the ambush. What is my impression of the man?

Diavla reviewed what she had learned. When he thought he was dying, he gave us the key to save our lives. He says “thank you” when we do things for him. He asks us our opinions and leaves decisions up to us. He took our collars off. He's bothering to learn Elvish. He seems to feel guilty over surviving when all his fellows died, and all the people he meant to protect. He plans to deliver the fabric wagon without charge, when he could live comfortably for years with the gold he would make by selling it elsewhere.

He hasn't pressured us for sex. He obviously wants us, but he's being a gentleman. That counts for a lot.

He's traveled, done lots of jobs, and is very strong and very tough. He came up on his own with the idea of selling the wagons for gold to buy passage home. He stands watches, doesn't shirk chores. He dealt with humans who wanted to talk to us. He's very clever.

“Diavla?”

She blinked and looked up. Tom had gotten up and come over to her. He paused, reaching for the words he needed in Elvish. “We…two…talk. No three, no four, no five. Please?”

He wants to talk to me alone? “Yes, Tom.” She excused them both, and led Tom off behind a couple of the wagons. She noticed that Tom took a minute to scan the woods before turning to her. Always alert. He's a conscientious guard.

“What is it? Um…talk now,” she simplified.

Tom took a breath. “I want…I am good. I am (something). Um…I am scared.”

He doesn't trust himself? Diavla wondered. “You think…you want you are bad?”

“What? No. Um, no. I no want I am bad. No no.” He shook a hand in denial, sounding confident. Then he thought hard before continuing. “I…say bad…um…I am no smart. I am scared I am no smart tomorrow.”

Ah.

“You are scared you will make a mistake.” She pantomimed dropping something. “Mistake.”

“Mistake. Yes.”

“Tom, you are smart. Tomorrow you are smart. I trust you.”

“Thank you, Diavla. You say…you help.” He appeared to feel reassured, then added something in Western that Diavla didn't follow.

Diavla looked into his eyes carefully. He looks relieved. If he were planning to betray us, and I said that I trusted him, he would look guilty, or hide that and look neutral, or feel gleeful and try to hide that. But he looks honestly relieved.

I think I do trust him. We could so easily have gotten a random human who would have happily sold us. How did we get so lucky?

“You are a good man, Tom Walker.” She stepped closer and put one hand on his arm as comfort.

Something shifted in his expression. Diavla tilted her head back slightly, looking up at him, realizing how close together they were, how his arm felt under her hand. He started to lean forward very slowly. He looks like he's about to kiss m—

Tom jerked backwards, taking a deep breath. “I'm sorry. Uh…I am sorry.”

Diavla smiled. “I understand. Tom, I like that you want me.” Diavla stepped closer and started to reach for him. Tom seized her wrists to stop her.

The movement was sudden and her breath caught. She tried to move her arms, but his fingers might as well have been iron bands. Diavla felt trapped, and excited. She could feel her pulse pounding in her throat.

“No, Diavla.” Tom looked very torn. “I want…I want you, but I no do.” He slowly forced her arms down and then released them.

“Why not?” He wants me. It feels wonderful. And… he can't get me pregnant.

I want him.

Diavla was startled by the realization. She didn't have anything against sex, but she just hadn't…felt inspired by anyone like this before. I guess narrowly escaping a life of slavery causes one to rethink one's priorities. Life is short, even if we elves treat it as if it were going to go on forever.

Meanwhile, Tom was struggling. “You no give sex, get help. I help, no sex.”

They looked at each other a moment. Tom took a couple of steps back, smiled gently and murmured, “You are (something.)”

Diavla repeated the word. Tom looked embarrassed. “Um…very good see. I like see you.”

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

Did he just call me beautiful?

Diavla couldn't help but smile. “Thank you, Tom.”

Tom shifted his weight from one foot to the other and back, clearing his throat. “Um…I go now. Thank you, Diavla.” Looking awkward, the man made his escape, starting a patrol of their campsite. Diavla watched him go.

Someday, Tom Walker, I'm going to kiss you, and I hope you grab me and—

“Dee?”

She turned, and Varga was coming around the wagon. “Hi, Varga.”

“He gone?”

“He's patrolling.”

“What did you two talk about?”

“Um…” Diavla hesitated, and Varga's eyebrows went up.

“Did he kiss you?”

“No.” The word came out a lot more annoyed-sounding than Diavla had meant it to.

“Ohhh…”

“Shut up.”

“Well, we have an evening. Want to drown your sorrows in ale so I can have my wicked way with you?”

Diavla was about to tell her off in exasperation from long habit, then paused. After a moment, she snorted. “You know…why not?”

∘ ⛥ ⛯ ⛥ ∘

Kervan and Orvan volunteered to split the watch between them so that Tom could get sleep before his solo trip into town. The human turned in first, curling up under one of the wagons. The elves had quiet conversation for a while.

Diavla proceeded to get drunk enough that Varga looked more and more appealing. After a while of watching the women flirt, Kervan got annoyed and walked off into the woods for a bit.

Varga was pulling her up, and she followed the redhead into a wagon. They made sure that their mugs were full before retreating. I'm going to need a lot of alcohol for this, but maybe I'm getting more comfortable with it. I should be careful not to toy with her feelings. This obviously means a lot more to her than it does to me.

The rest of her evening got a bit blurry, but it was fun. They made out, and their hands adventured until some of their clothes came off…and then some more. Diavla concentrated on giving Varga a wonderful time.

Eventually, her friend was sated, and they cleaned up a bit and put some clothes back on against the chill. They curled up together, facing each other in the dark. Varga started sniffling a little.

“Varga? What's wrong?” Diavla whispered.

“I'm fine. Sorry.”

“I don't want to hurt you. This is just…fun, all right? I'm not…”

“It's all right. You made it clear enough.”

“You're my friend and I care about you.”

“I know. I'm a little stupid right now.”

“Oh, just right now?” Diavla teased.

“Yup. I'm actually super smart like you, but alcohol is my magical bane.”

“I see. Well, Diavla your friend is perfectly willing to commiserate with you about that stupid Diavla your lover. I refuse to stop being your friend, you know.”

“Thanks, Dee. We're just…” Varga paused, then just said, “freedom, you know?”

Diavla felt that wholeheartedly, all the way to her core. “Here's to freedom. May we never be caged again.”

“Good night, Diavla. I…”

Diavla waited, but Varga either chose not to finish what she was going to say or had passed out drunk.

“Good night, my friend,” she whispered, and closed her eyes.

∘ ⛥ ⛯ ⛥ ∘

The next morning, Diavla's memory was a little fuzzy again. Ohhh, what did I do now? She wasn't naked, but vaguely recalled Varga getting the last of her clothes off. Predictably, her friend was still snoring away gently.

Well, we don't have to go anywhere or do anything for a few days. I wonder if Tom has already left… She checked her clothing, then peeked out past the back flap of the wagon.

Tom was standing in one of the few open spaces in their hidden pocket of woods. He was stripped to the waist, and held his sword, the naked blade gleaming. As she watched, Tom made a very slow practice swing. He stopped partway through, shifted his stance slightly and started over. There was a look of intense concentration on his face.

Diavla sighed deeply in satisfaction and enjoyed the unexpected morning entertainment. He really is a very fit young man. On one level, the ripples of his muscles was a primitive pleasure, and on a completely different plane of thought, the passionate focus and intelligence shining through was deeply appealing to Diavla. I like the smart ones.

It was only a few minutes before Tom stopped, and Diavla had to suppress a little sound of disappointment when he sheathed his sword, wiped down and put his shirt back on. She pulled back and hid in the wagon for a minute, then came out and jumped down.

Tom and Kervan were talking quietly. She saw Tom hand Kervan a pouch, and shake his head in refusal of something. She spotted Orvan sleeping by the fire and kept her voice low as she joined them. The fabric wagon was already positioned to leave.

“Good morning, Diavla,” Kervan called.

“Good morning, Diavla,” Tom echoed in his own language.

“Good morning. Is Tom getting ready to go?”

“Yes. He wants an early start. He just gave me three gold and change in case of emergency, and actually refused to take any food with him.”

“We have more than enough for a few days, don't we?”

“He seems to be worrying pointlessly, honestly. He did point out that there's a human town less than half a day away and he can get a meal there, so I'm not going to insist.”

“Diavla. Thing you want? I get in Rivermarch,” Tom asked.

“Food. Clothing. A map.” She had to remind him what map meant.

“Three day. One day go, one day in Rivermarch, one day go here. Here sun…after sun. Night.” He paused. “Maybe and one day. No scared.” He stopped again. “I think I am good. Five day, I am no here, maybe thing is bad. You hide.”

Tom offered Kervan his arm, and Kervan gripped it near the elbow. A perfectly ordinary gesture, and yet Tom was surprised. He took a moment to walk Kervan through the human way of clasping hands. Then he turned to her and bowed a moment. She was puzzled.

“Ah…man and man, me and Kervan. Man and woman, man do…woman do…” After another bow, he awkwardly made a little curtsey motion, which Diavla did her best to imitate. Tom's face broke out in a grin. “You do good, Diavla.”

“ ‘May the road be clear of dangers and your heart be light.’ ” It was a traditional Elvish farewell that Tom would not be familiar with, but she said it anyway. Then she smiled and simplified, “You go good and happy.”

“May the road play of dangle and you hoard be light,” Tom parroted. Diavla tried to keep a straight face but Kervan snorted and covered his mouth with one hand. Tom looked at their expressions a moment, then shrugged and grinned.

He doesn't get mad at us when we laugh at him. A good sense of humor too.

“Stay (something.) Um, stay here good.”

Safe, Diavla thought. He said to stay safe.

“I go.” Tom mounted the wagon seat, and Diavla and Kervan cleared the way so that Tom would not leave any tell-tale broken branches to mark his passage. Once the wagon was on the roadway, Tom paused and gave her a long look. He smiled at her, but she could see that he was hiding worry.

You'll do fine, Tom. Diavla did her best to project confidence. After a moment's thought, she winked at him, and his smile got a bit more genuine. Then he urged the animal into motion and started north up the forest road.