Francis sat on a tree stump, idly fiddling with a stick he'd found. He watched the birds fluttering about and singing their songs, and the squirrels scurrying to and fro. He sometimes enjoyed watching the little creatures go about their business, but even if he didn't, there was little else to do.
They'd sent out the ransom letter, and now they had to wait for the agreed-upon date. A few days had passed, and the mood in the air was stiflingly dull. To pass the time, several bandits had gone out on patrol to see if there were any other unfortunate travelers around. This included Morgana, who led a small team to stalk the nearby dirt road. He hated to admit it, but he was starting to miss her. His feelings for her were mixed, to put it mildly, but having her around at least kept things interesting. Now, he was bored out of his skull thinking of things to do.
"I wonder where my book ended up." He thought, looking around. "Most of these people aren't literate and it sounded like Faidh was the exception on that front. Did he stow it away somewhere? Or did it get lost in the piles of other stolen loot? I suppose they'd be more interested in pawning it off than reading it."
As much as he would've liked to dig around the various wooden chests and start the book where he'd left off, eyes were on him. Two guards stood only a few feet away from him, steadfastly keeping watch with spears in hand. His captors were being laxer compared to when he was initially captured, but they still wouldn't let him escape. The day when his ransom got paid couldn't come fast enough.
Just after the sun had reached its peak in the sky, he looked over his shoulder and saw the captain returning with her crew. She rested her big axe on her shoulder, and her iron helmet cast a shadow over her eyes. Standing by Morgana's side was a woman with disheveled blond hair and a longbow in hand. He'd noticed her previously, as she seemed to be closer with the captain than others, much like Faidh. He hadn't caught her name, however.
The whole team looked rather tired from marching around since dawn, and the looks on their faces indicated that they probably hadn't found anything worth reporting. He felt a sense of relief, for if nothing else, he'd no longer be idle.
"I don't suppose you found anything?" One of the guards asked.
She shook her head in response. "We saw a few travelers on the road, but they didn't look like they had much on them. Other than that, roads are pretty quiet today."
"There are plenty of squirrels for the cap'n to chase after, though." The blond woman beside her commented, smiling to reveal half her teeth were missing.
Morgana just shook her head in annoyance. "You try going after a squirrel in wolf form once, and you never hear the end of it."
"But it looked so funny, you were like a hound!"
Francis himself was rather amused by the mental image that had conjured. Without realizing it, he'd started to smile a little.
"And what's with that look?" Morgana asked, walking up to him. The noble's smile faded quickly once she got close. "You're looking like a squirrel yourself."
He quickly averted eye contact, as talking back was becoming increasingly difficult for him. He still didn't quite understand the feelings she inspired within him.
"So, what'll we do now?" The woman asked, fiddling with the string of her bow.
"Well, Maggie, since you're curious," she spun around to face her "with little else to do, I say we celebrate our good fortune and break into some of that ale and wine we got from the monastery raid! I wanted to save some of it, and now is as good a time as any."
"A last hurrah before we disband? I like it!"
The bandits started cheering, no doubt encouraged by the promise of good drink.
"Then it's settled!" She laughed. "One last feast before our final score!"
"I appreciate the enthusiasm, captain." Faidh announced, who had just walked up to join the conversation. "But right now all we have at camp besides the drinks is bread and cheese. You can't have a feast with just that."
"That's no problem, I can just go hunting again. I thought I smelled some game while we were out, shouldn't be any problem tracking them." She ruffled Francis's hair, before heading back toward the woods.
"Wait, going by yourself? And with only an axe?" He asked, tilting his head. While he was by no means a hunting expert, he'd attended a few hunts with his father and brothers, so he knew a few basics about the sport. One person with an axe was hardly adequate for a hunt of any kind.
"Let's just say my lycanthropy has affected my human form a bit." She said, stopping to look behind her. "I've got a heightened sense of smell, and besides, I caught a whiff of a boar earlier. I would've needed a combat weapon to deal with that, anyway."
"Catching a boar all on your own..." he muttered. A part of him wanted to see her try, but he disliked the idea of sneaking around the forest just to be potentially attacked by a wild hog. Best to leave it to the wolf.
"Trust me, with her on the hunt, we'll be having fresh pork tonight." Maggie reassured him, before taking her quiver off.
"I just hope she'll be back in time." Faidh sighed, crossing his arms. "Preparing and cooking that much meat isn't a quick process."
"I have a feeling we'll be going late into the night regardless." Maggie shrugged.
After that, he found himself bored again. Though this time, he had least had something to watch while he waited around. The bandits went this way and that, preparing for the feast. They got out what food they had stolen and rolled out the barrels of beer and wine.
After disappearing for another few hours, Morgana returned. She dragged the corpse of a large boar behind her, with splatters of blood on her armor and axe. Seeing her come back like that, Francis felt an odd sense of attraction welling in his heart.
"What'd I say?" She announced, gesturing to the dead animal.
"Good, now we can have a proper feast." Faidh observed, sounding relieved at this outcome.
"You took this thing on by yourself?!" He asked, stepping up to the boar to observe both its size and its sharp tusks. Normally a boar hunt required teams of men with spears and hunting dogs. Yet this woman had taken one out by herself. Her being a werewolf reduced the need for hounds, but still.
"There you go again, underestimating me." She looked at him and crossed her arms. "I thought you would've learned your lesson by now."
"I was just surprised." He said, observing as some bandits dragged the boar off to be dressed and cooked. "It's just that I've been to a few hunts, and had never seen someone take down a boar by themselves."
"Like I said: she's like a hound!" Maggie said, smiling.
"You're starting to annoy me with that dog talk..." she looked to the amused archer, with an irritated expression.
They continued talking idly for a bit, before Morgana briefly went into her tent to take off her armor and replace it with the grey doublet and black trousers she'd been wearing before. By that point, there was little left to do but wait for the food.
Once the boar had been prepared, they started cooking it over the fire, imbuing the meat with the smoky flavor of the burning wood. Francis found himself getting hungrier as time passed, the smoky smell of the meat being difficult to ignore. He couldn't help but notice that Morgana looked even hungrier; no doubt a werewolf would have a taste for meat, and this would have been the first time they'd had any since he got there.
Once everything was prepared, they finally sat together around the flickering fire. The captain was rather insistent that he sit next to her, and he was just willing to oblige. Yet still, he found himself sticking close to her since he wasn't terribly comfortable around anyone else in the camp. Morgana wasn't the most comforting person to be around either, but he at least knew her better.
They began cutting into the roasted boar, and he decided to have some himself. He took a bite and was pleased with its flavor. Evidently whoever was in charge of cooking had made good use of what was available, using a variety of wild herbs for seasoning. It wasn't the best pork he'd ever tasted, but it certainly wasn't bad either.
Munching on the smoky meat, he was reminded of a feast that he once attended with his family. It was a similar set up, but whereas the noble feasts expected attendees to follow certain customs and show restraint, this feast had no such restrictions. People ate as they pleased and chugged down countless flagons. It was loud and uproarious, the talking intermixed with laughter. Right beside him, he heard Morgana letting out a loud belch after downing her second flagon of ale. She was perhaps the loudest of all of them, and just as in everything else, her manner at the table was completely unladylike.
The food itself wasn't the best, at least compared to his more refined tastes, but the same could not be said for the drink. He filled his own flagon with white wine since the barrel was being cracked open anyway, and as expected, the monks had refined an excellent recipe. It was a strong wine that had been sweetened with honey, and it left a marvelously fruity taste on his lips.
After downing her 4th flagon of ale, Morgana wiped her mouth and refilled it again. She then raised her glass. "A toast to our health and good fortune!" She shouted.
"Hear!" They shouted back.
"Let the Duke of York remember the day that a group of bandits had him by the balls! Let the lands of northern England remember the terror of the She-Wolf!"
"Hear, hear!" They yelled even louder, raising their glasses.
"And speaking of She-Wolves..." she said, looking to the setting sun. It was then she transformed. As she morphed into a bestial form and grew larger in size, her clothes burst at the seams and ripped off. Once the transformation was complete, she let out a loud howl. This was met with even bigger cheers.
