Chess spent the rest of the day moping about the camp; asking questions, playing her guitar, and singing with Kan when he had the time; a few times, she drifted off into a lazy nap.

The effects of over-mana still hadn’t fled completely and she felt lethargic and, achy like she was coming off a bad night of red wine with tequila chasers.

She found her bedroll in the late afternoon for yet another nap and woke the next morning to the light patter of rain on the tent overhead. The rain that had threatened for most of the previous day had finally arrived.

Pushing the covers aside she groaned and rubbed a kink in her back where she’d slept on a root. This sleeping on the ground has to stop, I'm making myself a new hammock tonight. From what the others said over-mana shouldn’t be a problem anymore. As long as I stay away from detailed work for more than a couple of sessions a day, at my level and constitution. Thank fuck, I thought getting a cold sucked...

Come on Chesty get your shit together, a little rain needn’t ruin the day. She yawned wide and stared at the stretched canvas overhead.

Outside, the intensity of the rain was picking up in counterpoint to her thoughts. Now what? she wondered, now hesitant to leave the comfort of her tent.

With a grimace of anticipation, she summoned her guitar but sighed in relief when she felt no sickness or discomfort.

Letting her mind drift, she strummed Lynyrd Skynyrd’s Simple Man a couple of times until she had her voice and guitar in a complementary pitch.

The playing relaxed and cheered her for a time, but she grew antsy.

Slinging her guitar, she poked her head out of the tent’s flap. The heavy rain was busy creating rivers and lakes of mud in the clearing outside.

Only a few men were out, wrapped tightly in heavy and sodden cloaks, muttering to each other about the chilly rain and watch duty.

Letting the flap fall, Chess took a better look at her cramped tent with a frown. She drew a slow breath in through her nose and ran a hand through her hair, fighting the tangled lengths again. Shit, I should do something about this mess. Maybe cut it off, It’s annoying as hell and greasy as hell. No. No, I need to know how women’s hair is seen by other women first. For all I know, it’s a status thing no one’s mentioned.

I need to learn to braid it or put it up, she decided.

What I could really use right now is a shower. It is raining...

Digging through her pack, she pulled out the hygiene kit that’d come with it. Bringing the bar she thought was soap to her nose, she drew in a long breath filled with lavender and cinnamon that brought a wide smile to her lips.

She set it down and opened the other containers in the kit but none seemed like other forms of soap, only various types of creams.

The mysteries of women's skincare... She shrugged. Bar soap it is, I guess.

Grabbing the tan-colored scrubby from the kit, she stripped down to her bra and panties and stood hesitantly at the tent flap, gooseflesh rising in the chill air.

Opening the flap tentatively she peeked her head out to see if anyone was watching the tent. It looked like half the troop of men were watching the interior of the camp so she drew back and grabbed the guitar before throwing her cloak out into the mud with a grin.

Nothing came to mind for a perfect song so she played an old favorite: New Orleans is Sinking by The Tragically Hip.

Three walls of vine and bramble sprouted from the muddy soil to hide the front of her tent from view while allowing the rain in from above.

When done she shucked her bra and panties and stepped out into the downpour then quick-stepped back into the tent.

Holy Shit Balls! she thought as she stood there shivering for a handful of seconds before she started frantically scrubbing her hair with the soap, leaving rivulets of grime flowing onto the grassy floor of her tent.

Once lathered up she gathered her courage and with a shiver of morbid anticipation stepped back out to rinse out her hair before returning. She shook her arms and jumped about for a few seconds before repeating the process again then a final time to wash her body.

“What in the 13 hells are you're doing?” a familiar voice asked from outside.

“Hold on!” she snapped, teeth chattering while taking a frantic look around. Fuck! I forgot to figure out a towel, she cursed, grabbing one of the blankets from her bedroll to quickly towel herself off. Wrapping her hair in the scarf she jumped up and down trying to get some blood flowing through her cold aching body.

Well, that defeated the purpose somewhat, she thought, contemplating the not exactly clean blanket she used to dry off. Well, I do feel a damn sight better than I did.

“Do I have to cut a new opening into your tent or are you going to let me in and explain this?” Sergeant Kan asked outside. He sounded a little annoyed.

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“Don’t get your panties in a twist. Just give me a minute,” Chess said, fumbling to get into her bra and panties.

Sergeant Kan grumbled something unintelligible.

“Suck it up, Buttercup. I said, 'hold up.' It’s only a little rain; it won't kill you. Not quickly, at any rate,” Chess teased, pulling her dress on over her head.

“I’ll be the first to admit, your crass straightforward nature is refreshing after the noble ladies I normally encounter, but this rain is cold. So, if you’d be so kind as to hurry...”

Chess sang an opening into her makeshift shower stall, giving the sergeant a wide grin when his scarred face popped into view.

“Where’s your cloak, Kan? You’ll catch your death standing out there like that. Would you like to come in?” She swept her arm in a broad come-in gesture, a wide smile never leaving her face.

Kan scowled and gave her a very short bow before entering. He frowned at the mess inside before turning the look back on her.

“Are you sure you should be doing such a large working?” he said after a pause, gesturing at the enclosure he’d passed through.

“I'm much better this morning, thank you," she said, ignoring his brash manner. "No headaches or nausea. You said it’s the detailed workings I have to worry about. Besides, showers are important, even cold ones, and I haven’t been able to get properly clean since I arrived in this forest.” She shrugged, packing the soap and luffa away and taking out the comb and small mirror.

Singing part of Simple Man at her staff she created a split near the top then jammed the handle of the mirror into it. Nodding with satisfaction as she studied her reflection she started to work at her hair with the comb, hacking hard at the knots.

“So, that’s what you were doing with that growth out front, showering?” he asked

Chess nodded at Kan’s reflection in the mirror, silently cursing at the knots.

“May I?” he asked, gesturing at the comb.

She raised an eyebrow at him. “Don’t go getting any ideas!”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, besides you're not my type. Too scrawny,” he assured her holding out a hand. “Well? I promise I know what I’m doing; I have sisters.”

“Just sisters? No wife or kids?” Chess asked, placing the comb in his hand.

He shook his head, lips pressed into a thin line.

Taking up a fistful of her hair he started on the tangle near the ends.

“You’re awfully comfortable this morning, coming in here by yourself like this, out of sight of everyone else. What changed? People back home used to frown upon single unmarried women like me being alone with men like this,” Chess teased while finding his efforts soothing.

“It’s the same here.” He studied her thoughtfully in the mirror, working at the knots in her hair for a long minute while he gathered his thoughts.

Chess saw a battle rage behind his eyes and closed her eyes with a sigh of contentment.

"Would you keep a secret?” Kan asked after a handful of minutes.

“Sure, unless torture is involved. I’m not sure how long I could hold out under a good waterboarding,” she joked.

“If it comes to that, I won't hold you to your promise. I’ve lived a full life already,” he said seriously.

Chess opened her eyes and studied his reflection for a breath. “What is it?” she whispered, suddenly uncertain.

“When we were playing yesterday, I felt I'd found a kindred spirit in you. At first, I thought it was because of our shared love for music, but last night, while I was on watch, it finally came to me.” He paused for another steadying breath.

She felt a momentary jolt of unease course through her as she watched him.

“When I said ‘you’re not my type’ I meant it. Understand?” he said with extra emphasis.

"I think so." Chess nodded with a relieved sigh. She opened her mouth to say it when she realized the Brastian language didn’t have a positive word for gay. Not even a general term like homosexual. Only derogatory words like bugger and sodomite translated.

“Huh, you’re gay,” she said the word in English after the silence had dragged on too long.

“Gay?” he asked as though feeling the word.

“It’s a positive word for men who prefer the company of men back home... sexually. Well, usually men. I just realized I only know curse words for it in Brastian,” she explained.

“There isn’t one, being a Gay man is a hanging offense in Brastia.” He said gay carefully, still testing it out. “And that’s the point I wanted to make. I know elves are tolerant of such things because of their long lives and propensity for changing partners, but I wanted to caution you.”

“I...” Chess started to say but stopped and let him continue.

“It was obvious after I gave yesterday some thought. You showed little interest in any of the men. Not even young Adit who has many admirers. Now the punishment for women isn’t quite so severe, as the sisters tend to work to bring women found with such preferences to the ‘light’. With you being half-human, they might see it as their right to punish and take you if you’re discovered. You do not want that. I lost a niece to them.” He gave her a pointed look in the mirror.

"Oh. Shit..."

"Now, you being a Lady will help, as you shouldn't show such interests if they're not proper, but you'll have to learn to pretend better. Noble ladies like to talk, as you should know. If I could spot it, others will too," he added.

"Yeah, okay," Chess agreed and rubbed at her face.

They fell into silence, and Chess enjoyed the feeling of the comb gliding through her hair and the rain pounding its heavy beat on the waxed canvas overhead for a time.

“Can we talk about something less doom and gloom?” Chess asked.

“What’s waterboarding?” Kan asked after a moment of reflection.

“That’s... the opposite of less doom and gloom. You know what? Nevermind. It’s a form of torture where you use a length of cloth you drape over someone's mouth and nose then pour water over it. It apparently tricks the mind into thinking you're drowning or something," Chess explained.

“Useful, I approve,” he said, nodding seriously.

“Really, that’s your takeaway?”

“Well, if it works as you say, it leaves minimal marks on a prisoner. Useful.” He shrugged running the comb smoothly through her now unknotted hair.

Chess shook her head ruefully, pulling her hair from his hands.

“Have you given any more thought to your Pyth choices other than that inventory powder you already took?” Kan asked, gathering her hair and dividing it in three before starting to braid it.

“I was thinking maybe that Flame Pyth and the Thump Pyth. Everything else doesn’t seem to fit,” Chess said.

“Flame is a weak fire Pyth. If you want to go that route you’re better off waiting for something better. In the meantime take something worth a little more and sell it.

"The Thump Pyth is an interesting choice. Few use it outside of some dragoons for the knockback abilities it can give. Can I ask why?”

“You’re no fun, I wanted to play with fireballs.” She mock-pouted. “Thump is the only sound Pyth I’ve seen or heard mentioned so far. Sound has a rare synergy with my class, I’m curious what it might give me.” She shrugged.

“In that case, I su...” he started to say but a voice from outside interrupted him.

“Sergeant Hilkan, the Sisters are here and Lord Caldur wants to see you in his tent.”

"Duty calls," he said and pushed himself to his feet.

As Kan turned to leave, Chess mouthed thanks to him, and he gave her another short bow.

After their footsteps were drowned out by the rain, she took up her guitar playing through Simple Man again in an attempt to recapture the levity of the morning and settle her thoughts once more.