“Well, aren’t you all far too pretty to be walking out here all alone, this late at night?” I groan as the driver slows his horses and the wagon comes to a stop. There is a smarmy confidence in his wide smile, like a man expecting my clothes to fall off with a wink. He is classically handsome in a generic Hollywood star kind of way, and he exudes self-satisfaction. I hate him instantly. But I would really like a ride.

“We’re too pretty for a lot of unpleasant things, but here we are,” I intone. “You happen to have room in the wagon for five? Just to the nearest inn,” I ask, badly suppressing a grimace. His eyes crawl down my body like a centipede before finding their way back up Autumn’s. His brazen ogling would be enough to make an eternal enemy of me on its own, but the way he wrinkles his nose in disgust as he makes it to Sarafyna’s scars cements his place on my shit list. Finally, August retrieves his water skin from his bag and the stranger finally notices him. He spends little time examining either August or Ember.

“We’ve got room for three. I’m sure the strongest of you can make it on foot, and the rest of us can get to know each other in the meantime,” he smiles greedily. Well, the first one is a bust but we were only on the road for a few minutes before we spotted this wagon. There is a good chance another will be along shortly. I look back at the group for confirmation.

“We’re alright,” Autumn says, although her face betrays her fatigue. I asked her to come with me. I’m still not certain why, myself. But I asked her to. And she has exhausted herself because of my mistake. Even worse, there is some spark deep in the darkest corner of my soul that feels satisfaction at that. The part that still wants to hold her exclusively accountable for my brother’s death. I will not be a woman who indulges in that. I won’t. So I grimace, but push forward.

“So, if we remove one driver, that’s room for at least four, isn’t it?” I suggest. Perhaps not the most effective method of getting a ride but… just because I’m willing to suffer this man’s presence to help my friend doesn’t mean I have to suffer it in silence.

“I was just thinking the same thing,” a new voice suggests as another man appears from the back of the wagon. This man looks a few years older than the slimy driver. His mostly smooth, brown skin is etched with smile lines whose depth exceeds all other indicators of age. He wears a gentle grin that contrasts with his driver’s like water and smoke. As my other human companions examine him with mild surprise, I am again reminded of the differences between this country and Potestia, as well as my old home’s nonsense structure. Potestia had a conspicuous lack of diversity, but I was the only one there to notice every damn person was pale as a ghost. It’s less strange to them than a woman with fur and cat ears, so they adjust quickly.

“You are a guest yourself, Turner. If you are going to try and turn away other travelers, maybe you are the one I should leave behind, no?” The new man suggests.

Turner, apparently, scoffs. “Hardly the same. I am replacing your lost escort and driver. You need me more than I need you. These vagrants are just looking for a free ride,” he protests.

“Oh, I don’t think we are the ones looking for a free ride,” I joke, “and I get the feeling we aren’t the ones with no hope of getting one. If this isn’t your wagon, calm your stiffy down and let the grown-ups talk,” I dismiss, much to the amusement of the other stranger.

“We really could use a little help,” Sara chimes in. “We can drive too.”

“We aren’t going far, just the inn down the way. A few hours by cart,” Ember adds, almost apathetically.

“That shouldn’t be too difficult, I’d love to help,” the wagon’s owner responds. “Problem is, Turner is correct, if only a little. We can squeeze four more in for a short trip, but five would be too many, especially with an Ailur. Unless one of you can turn into an extra horse or magically take up less space, we really will run out of space,” he apologizes. Funny he should mention that. Sara very much can do those things but… I can’t exactly tell them that. I get the feeling transforming anyone’s body is going to be met with distrust and physical protests. I’ll need a plausible excuse to ‘leave Sara behind’.

“Like I said, the strongest should stay behind. He will have the easiest time making it to the inn on his own,” Turner repeats.

“Didn’t you say you were an escort? Like… in case of attack, right?” August asks. “If we are worried about that, wouldn’t it be better to have more strength available?”

“And leave one of these little slips of women alone on the ride to face the same possible attacks? What sort of man are you?” Turner sneers and I see my in.

“No, August, this overly excitable stain of a person is right. Through no fault of his own, of course. Yes, he’s just going to an extremely dry well hoping to get wet, but he stumbled across a good point on the way to embarrassing himself,” I say.

“What did you say, cunt?” Turner snarls at me and I fail to acknowledge him.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

“Someone at least as powerful as the wagon’s escort should be the one walking back on their own. That’s the best way to keep everyone safe, right?”

“I guess that makes sense, but you don’t have to–” August starts but I hold a finger up to his lips.

“No use protesting. It’s what’s best for everyone,” I cut him off.

“You heard her, you’re walking. Don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye on them for you,” Turner winks at August. “Maybe even help teach this one a few things. Like how a woman’s mouth looks better smiling than spewing shit.” I raise an eyebrow at him.

“I smile all the time, I’m sure you’ll see it when something warrants it,” I respond.

“Well hold on now,” the older man says, “Are you all sure about this? These roads can be dangerous at night. I’d feel awful if something happened to you. And, for how unpleasant Turner can be, he is very capable. I’d be happy to camp here with you until another wagon comes along?”

Whereas Turner is speed running a meeting between my boot and his undersized testicles, this man is quickly ingratiating himself to me. “No no, that’s alright. Thank you for your kindness. We can handle ourselves, I promise. A couple of us really need the rest.”

“Even so…” he protests and I snap my fingers.

“Tell you what, Turner here keeps suggesting we leave the most capable behind. Let’s have a little spar. If any of us can hold our own against him, will you be more comfortable taking the rest to the inn?” I ask. The amiable traveler looks at me skeptically.

“I’d really rather just wait with you. There is a reason we had to pick up a replacement escort, after all. But…” he glances back at his wagon then rubs the back of his neck. “Well, I suppose that would be alright.”

“And why should I? If I win, that just means I have to wait here for longer. What reason could I possibly have to spar with your little friend?” he complains.

“Humans are such cowards,” Ember grumbles.

“Yeah, don’t be a little bitch boy,” I agree. “Or maybe you don’t make such a fearsome escort after all?” I challenge.

“You know what? Fine. I’ll spar. But don’t complain when I break your little boyfriend,” He scoffs, finally climbing down from the driver's seat. He marches up to August with his nose high enough in the air I’m worried something will fly in.

“The fuck you want with him?” I ask in amusement. “You’re supposed to fight the strongest of us, right?” I ask. He looks back at me in irritation.

“Ailur don’t count, it’s not a fair comparison,” he dismisses.

“Ember isn’t our best, except at giving me a rash when she speaks. No. You are fighting me,” I announce. He laughs at me.

“I’ve known a few girls like you. The men you think you beat? They went easy on you because they wanted to fuck you. Don’t let it get to your head,” he sneers.

I cross my arms. “Well shit. They were committed to the bit, I’ll give them that much. Some real convincing performances over the years. Take note, Sarafyna,” I joke, gesturing toward my own body. “To die for, apparently.”

“You really want to do this? I will fight a woman if I have to,” Turner insists.

“You have to,” I respond. He shrugs, then crosses his own arms. Brilliant gold mana erupts from him, sparkling in the night and lighting him up like a beacon to any mages in the area. It rolls and swirls around itself in a pretty, but clearly directed way before it coalesces into a number of gold coins with sharp edges. Constantly feeding them mana, he is able to turn and spin them with flawless timing as they flow in organized waves around him. A flick of his mana and that could tear someone to shreds. Well, someone with no defenses. Gold is an… odd choice for this but I suppose it may have its advantages if he really understands it. I mean, I’ve seen ‘Land of the Lustrous’ and it worked out pretty well there.

Still. His posturing is… less than effective. I can feel the mana pulling from my tumors and accumulating in my synthetic arm. I am going to have to hold back. Lightning would be too easy and do too much damage but I think I can toy with him a bit with my other aspects. “Are you sure? I won’t hold back. Surrender now or you’ll look like that bitch with the melted face,” he threatens. My amusement vanishes.

Technically, my mana is perfectly visible. Far more visible than it has been since I was a little girl, actually. Enough that I am surprised as it builds in a reality warping aura around my right arm. The blue is vibrant beyond belief, even brighter than the brilliant gold of my opponent's mana. Despite this, he doesn’t see it. I don’t think anyone does. The high pressure water forms so quickly around my arm, and fires with such force, that my arms jerks back in the other direction. I feel the flesh that has started to grow into and heal around the new arm tear and bleed. I’d barely considered the spell I wanted to cast, but it formed with little to no effort.

It is not the most powerful spell I have cast. It lacks the raw force of much of my magic in the past. But it is quick and concentrated. By the time I regain control of my arm, all the threatening and intricate gold coins have collapsed into a gold and red puddle on what used to be an arrogant prick. Oh shit. I could have held back more. I hit him too hard for a spar. “Sara, help,” I call, but there is no need. She is already on her way to him. Orange force mana erupts from me and pushes the sharp coins to the side so Sara can put her hand on the wounded and soaked man.

“He’s fine, just badly bruised,” she assures. “The blood is from his own coins landing on him. He’s alive.”

I try not to laugh but… it is difficult and a giggle escapes. I don’t know how I did that but… if I can figure it out, I may have an answer to Ember’s question. I may have a way to get stronger. And in the meantime, this little shit fucked his own face up in a dick measuring contest with someone who lacks one. I can’t help it, I let the laugh out as I offer him a wide grin. He struggles to focus for a moment before his eyes finally lock onto my pearly white teeth.

“Hey there buddy. Told you I’d smile when it made sense. So? Do I look pretty?”