Chapter 6
The little clearing looked just the same as Blue remembered it, except that a bare circle of stones marked the fire and a litter of brilliantly orange and red leaves replaced the furs where she'd spent her last night in Galen's arms. Being experience travelers all, they made camp well before the sun vanished with a last purple gasp below the horizon. Three oilcloth tents sprung up around the crackling fire. Arno and Creo shared. Reece had his own, lopsided and sloping downward on a poorly chosen plot. Vlad, after seeing to the horses, had resolved to sleep in the wagon, "Anybody steals it, they take me with."
Blue did not mind sharing with Larch. He rarely stank, never snored, and his feet weren't icicles if weather forced them to huddle for warmth. She did not mind, normally.
But with Reece's touch on her throat lingering like a sordid daydream, the last person Blue wanted in her bedroll was Larch,
interrupting arsehole
. Half an hour later with his news this morning, she could have cum at least once, maybe twice. Instead, desire rolled like a lead weight in her pelvis.
She shucked her armor and padded tunic with a groan. Her spine popped and shoulders. The dull pressure in her ribs eased as she stretched left and right. And then she felt eyes on her. Reece's pretty blue eyes, almost too dark in his pale face, swept down her body and up again. The ping and stretch of her tendons could not compare to the thrill of hearing that small catch in his breath.
That settles that
. Blue unwound herself to find a comfortable seat in the light of the flames and rifled through pouches for her herbs. Dried leaves of Feverfew, ground Goldenseal root, purple Echinacea petals, a knuckle width of precious Ginger.
Finally, wedged deep, beneath a well-worn roll of healer's tools, she found the waxed cloth enfolding delicate seeds and leaves of deepest red.
"Mother's wort?" Larch sat with that cat-like grace that Blue so envied.
She smacked away his inquisitive fingers, and tucked the package into her breast pocket lest he scatter its contents. "Do you just float above the crunchy leaves?"
"Aye, wings on my boots." Larch poked at her again and pawed through the remaining satchels. "That was mother's wort, no? Thought it didn't grow this time of year." The rough grind of his teasing wound her nerves tight enough to snap.
Mother's wort only grew in warm, damp seasons. Flowering vines that choked the life from oak trees. Dried, the plant proved a reliable contraceptive. It cost twice a gold-weight and its expense had sent many a girl into Blue's open, safe, arms.
"It doesn't. Need to restock at the next temple." Blue ripped the tie from her braid and began to unwind the strands, her yellow hair almost orange in the sunset.
