“They escaped!” exclaimed Britina, her voice tense with surprise.

“I’m truly sorry. The guards were tired from yesterday's incident and fell asleep. Our little town isn’t prepared for bandits to be locked up,” Dale said.

“We’ll need to go after them!” Prunhiline said as she stood up.

“No!” Dale exclaimed. Noticing the two women’s surprised reaction, he gave an awkward laugh. “We can handle it from here. I’ve already sent word to the king, and I'm confident he’ll send reinforcements. Besides, aren’t you late for your meeting with the dwarven king?” Dale added with his best 'I'm on top of this' smile.

“Yes, of course, you are correct, Dale,” Britina said.

Dale had served them eggs and bacon for breakfast. He had brought out a lovely tea for Britina and had some ‘breakfast’ ale for Prunhiline. The warrior had never heard of ‘breakfast’ ale, but she liked the idea and was going to mention that in her next letter to her family. They will make it a tradition.

Prunhiline and Britina stocked up on supplies at the local market, feeling slightly embarrassed to encounter two men they’d beaten up the night before. Fortunately, there were no hard feelings, but the two were glad to be done with their errands.

“Hold up a minute, Bri,” Prunhiline said as they walked back to the stables. “I need to see if the blacksmith can sharpen my sword after last night's battle.”

They entered the blacksmith's shop to find another man they had beaten the night before. He gave them a giant smile and seemed very nice. “What can I do for you ladies?”

Britina hoped Prunhiline would be more tactful and say she was browsing. Instead, the tall warrior unsheathed her broadsword, prompting the blacksmith to step back.

“Hey! I was just following orders!” the blacksmith protested loudly.

“What?” asked the clueless warrior. “I just want you to sharpen it. It felt dull last night.”

“Didn’t feel dull to me,” the blacksmith growled, gesturing to a bandage wrapped around his stomach. “Felt plenty sharp, actually,” he added with a razor-edged sarcasm.

“Oh! You were the one I stabbed. You seem okay,” Prunhiline said as Britina gave a facepalm.

“Yeah, they said you missed all my major organs. Just a nasty flesh wound,” he muttered, eyeing the dreaded sword. He sharpened the weapon with a grimace and a glare at the two women, then handed it back. “There,” he said, “all sharp and ready to kill someone.”

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Prunhiline grabbed the sword and gave it a few experimental swings. The blacksmith jumped back to hide behind his anvil. “Nice work.” She tossed him some coins.

As they walked back to the stable, Britina said, “I can’t believe you just had a man who you stabbed sharpen the sword you stabbed him with.”

“Why not?” Prunhiline looked at her companion. "It would be an honor to sharpen the sword that defeated me if there was one that could.”

Prunhiline gave out a hearty laugh. Britina shook her head. They mounted their horse, tipped the stableboy, and headed into the warm morning sun. They rode in silence for some time. Britina was pondering how the trip couldn’t get any more chaotic. Prunhiline was pondering what she was going to get to kill next.

“Say, Bri?” Prunhiline said, “I was thinking. We have had a run-in with zombies, werewolves, and bandits. What next?”

“I’m hoping nothing,” Britina said.

“Awe, come one, Bri. Maybe a dragon? Or something dangerous!”

Prunhiline became increasingly animated in her saddle.

“More dangerous than a dragon?” Britina asked. “I’d like a nice, peaceful ride to the Dwarven capital and to be done with this mission. Besides, what would be more dangerous than a dragon?”

“I don’t know, squirrels?” Prunhiline suggested more seriously than anyone should be when talking about squirrels.

Britina laughed, “Right now, I’d rather take on a squirrel than take on more vegetarian zombies, thespian werewolves, or beating up villagers.”

“Oh no, the dreaded monster squirrel!” Prunhiline laughed along with her wife. “I am Prunhiline of the Plains, conqueror of squirrels!” This set them both laughing uncontrollably.

“Have you given our new home any thought?” Britina asked, bringing the conversation back to a more serious topic.

“Yeah, kinda.” Prunhiline said, “I’m not much for a house, but if it had some big rooms and high ceilings, it would be nice.”

“We could have high ceilings and tall doors for you,” Britina said. They remembered the trouble the tall warrior had with some of the doors at the academy. It was more than once that Prunhiline would hit her head on the top of the door frame.

“That would be sweet. I hate hitting my head.” The warrior rubbed her forehead.

“And we could have a large yard where you could set up some practice areas for you to work out.” Britina knew she was sweetening the deal.

“Really! Maybe some dummies to spar with and someplace where I can throw my axe?” Prunhiline did try to work on her axe throwing, but her large battle axe almost took off the head of one of the guards.

“Yes!” Britina said she was almost to the point where she knew she could convince the warrior. “And we could store kegs of ale in the cellar. We could have a kitchen, too.”

“A kitchen would be nice. I don’t cook much,” Prunhiline said, but with less enthusiasm. "The ale would be nice.”

“Dear love, I know you are a good cook. You’ve done several barbecues and did an excellent job of roasting the meats. I’d say that you are one of the best cooks I know.” Britina was serious but didn’t know why a little voice in the back of her head was saying to stop.

“Aw, Bri, that’s just grilling. That’s all we ever do at home. I’m not sure I’d be any good in a kitchen,” Prunhiline admitted, sounding uncharacteristically modest, a clue Britina somehow missed.

“Well, I, for one, would love to eat your cooking sometime,” Britina said with a serious voice. The universe rolled with laughter. (And yes, dear reader, that is a remarkable story for another day!)