Granny stood up from her chair with an audible creak. She picked up our tea mugs, which had long since gone cold, and took them into her kitchen.
I slumped back in my chair and listened to the sounds of her moving about and rummaging. A few moments later she returned with a small assortment of food stacked on a wooden cutting board. She set it all down on the table, and beckoned for me to stand.
As I rose, she drew a length of twine from a pocket, and wrapped it around me with uncanny speed as she spoke. "So you had sex with a human and three orcs?"
I nodded and said nothing as she made one full loop around my middle with the string, then pulled it away and inspected it. I realized it had small knots all along its length at regular intervals, giving her an accurate estimate of a patient's... circumference.
"Did you use any kind of protection with any of them?" She took my wince as answer enough. "Not even with your boyfriend?" I shook my head and she sighed. "I have met a number of girls who have ended up in your situation after only a single night with one orc, and you had multiple encounters with three different orcs. While elves and orcs can very rarely produce offspring, it is possible. And much more common with humans, whose bloodline seems to mingle most readily with others'. I would wager that one of those three is the father, most likely this Davor. He was the most frequent with three encounters."
I nodded as she spoke, and after a moment answered. "It was four encounters with Davor, actually. I had one final tryst with him on the morning that I left, as a kind of goodbye. But he wasn't exactly the last partner in that period."
She looked up at me from a small notebook she had been consulting. "After having sex with three orcs you weren't yet satisfied?"
"Do you want to hear the next part or not?" I asked, hoping she wouldn't just send me away after all of this.
She cut a loaf of bread and a wedge of cheese with delicate grace, and I watched as she set them next to a small bowl of cracked nuts, and one of fresh berries. Finally, she sighed. "Go on."
***************
I walked through the woods, beneath branch and bough. My compass pointed me South, and I followed it faithfully.
The sun crawled by as I walked, until it touched the horizon and vanished. For the first night in a year, I slept completely by myself, with nothing but my sleeping roll to keep me warm. I was walking into the Old Woods, the realm of the fair folk, and I knew better than to light a fire.
The next day came and went much the same way, with frequent stops for food and water. I had a set course and a plan, but I wasn't in a hurry. I knew enough of woodlore to keep myself safe and fed even if my dried food ran out, but my hope was to make contact before then.
That second night, I lay in my roll, waiting for sleep. But every time I thought I might drift off, I found myself suddenly snapping awake with the oddest feeling of being watched. The worst part was that I actually almost certainly was being watched, I just couldn't tell if the eyes were friendly or not. Sleep finally found me, and brought dreams of being chased through fields of unimaginable beauty by creatures of unimaginable cruelty.
When I awoke the next morning, I was sore and tired, and a little bit cranky. I consulted my map and grumbled at it - almost two full days of walking, and I hadn't even reached the river shown on it. "Assuming the river is actually there," I muttered to myself, hoping the cartographer who made this was actually competent. Worse still, thick grey clouds were rolling across the horizon, blocking the sun and threatening rain.
I got most of the way through the day before the rain started spattering down. One look at the dark grey clouds was enough to tell me it was only going to get worse.
"Fuck it," I told myself, and started looking for something that might serve as shelter.
I picked a small hill, where I was less likely to be stuck in mud, and ran under one of the taller oak trees growing there. The great branches blocked most of the light rain, but I didn't want to chance being soaked through if it got heavier. I pulled the wide roll of thin leather from atop my backpack, and started unfurling.
I wrapped thin rope around one tree limb, through the tarp, and then around the trunk of the tree. A few moments later I was damp but triumphant: the leather tarp was like an awning, covering a swathe of ground. I stood underneath the cover, happy to be out of the rain, and started changing into drier clothes.
The damp clothes were thrown over an exposed length of rope, to hopefully dry by morning.
I finally sat under the shelter, drying my hair with one of my towels I'd packed. I was humming as I worked, an old elvish tune I'd picked up from an old bard years ago, so I didn't immediately hear the noises from the bushes shifting.
I suddenly became aware of the movement, and froze in place. "Hello?" I called, trying to sound brave and confident, rather than anxious and scared.
Through the mist and the rain, I could dimly make out the outline of a figure in the forest beyond, who stopped at my call. They turned this way and that, probably trying to find the source of the voice.
"Hello down there," I called again, hoping to make peaceful contact with whomever had snuck up on me.
The silhouette turned to face in my general direction, and took a few steps forward. "Aye, hello to yourself," he called as I rose to my feet.
"Good evening," I offered, not really sure what else to say.
The figure continued picking his way forward, his dim silhouette slowly resolving itself into the picture of a man. One who evidently didn't feel the need to wear a shirt, despite the cold rain falling.
"Good evening there, miss," he said, stopping a good twenty or thirty feet away. "I don't suppose there's any room under that shelter for a second body? It seems to have gotten a wee bit drizzly out here."
I hesitated a moment, weighing my options. I could vaguely make out the form of a shirtless man, seemingly carrying nothing but a small bag on his side. If this was a fey, which seemed likely, being rude wouldn't be a particularly great idea. Finally, I decided to err on the side of politeness and adventure. "Please, come share the shelter."
"Much obliged," he said as he started picking his way forward. I got a better look at him as he passed the line of trees, and my breath caught in my throat. The shirtless part I had gotten right, as the only thing covering his torso was an impressive six-pack, but what I had mistaken for pants was in fact a naked lower body covered with a thick pelt of fur. At the bottom of his furry legs were a pair of cloven hooves, marking him unmistakably as a satyr.
Finally he was standing under my awning, smiling as sweetly as you please. "Thank you kindly, miss. I'd expected to be home 'fore the rain came down. The name's Pux"
I nodded, suddenly feeling a bit shy. "I'm Amaranthea. Uh... towel?" I asked, grabbing the semi-dry towel off of its rope hanger.
