Chapter 10

Warren holds it open for us and we all step inside with myself bringing up the rear. The music is lively, with an older man playing a fiddle while another blows on a flute. Rory finds three tables to the far right that are empty and we follow him before taking our seats at the long wooden tables that hold twelve each. I'm not surprised to see that all of the women have chosen to sit together, leaving room for only a few more at the end.

When Rory goes to sit in the empty seat next to Beth Ann, who is busy taking the tavern in with wide eyes, I place a hand on his shoulder as he steps forward. "I think they wish to be alone. Maybe it's best if we give them space for a while," I suggest.

Rory—whose left eye is slightly swollen shut—sighs but takes his place next to me at another table. "You're probably right," he says.

Just then, a barmaid comes sashays over take our orders, eying us curiously. "They with you?" she asks, pointing her quill at the women.

"Aye," says Warren, unsure of the context of her question.

"Pity," she replies, tucking her blond hair behind her hair as she looks Warren over. "What'll you have handsome?" she asks, turning to Sven.

"What'd ya have?" he asks, giving her a grin. "I'm assuming you aren't on the menu?"

She gives him an eyeroll and places her hands on round thighs. "I ain't into youngin's like you. You can't be much older than, what, 23? I could be your mum. Besides, I'd break you in two anyways," she replies, causing Sven to sit up straight. Meanwhile, the rest of us stifle laughter as we watch his face turn red. "We have tomato soup with toasted bread, shepherd's pie with roasted potatoes and cabbage, or chicken and a buttered roll."

"Um," Sven stumbles, his confidence obviously shattered. "H-how old is the chicken?"

"Freshly butchered yesterday morning," she tuts. "Well?"

"I'll have the chicken then, and the tomato soup," he answers, elbowing Gale in the ribs when a snicker escapes his lips.

"Please," she adds, reprimanding him as she scribbles it down on her notepad. It's clear that at this point she's enjoying making him squirm just as much as we enjoy watching.

"Please," he says, pressing his lips together.

She then turns to me and cocks a groomed blonde brow.

"I'll have the same ma'am. Please and thank you," I say, giving my head a small bow while trying to hold back my smile.

"Would you like a treated rag for your face as well? Free of charge," she asks, lightly grabbing my chin in her hand before tiling my head back and forth to examine me. Her thin lips press together in disapproval and she gives her head a single shake.

Gently, I pull my jaw from her hold and offer her a smile. "I've had worse, believe it or not. But you have my gratitude."

She gives me a nod before going around and taking the other's orders, leaving the women for last. When she walks away we all burst out into laughter—Gale clapping him on the back while Warren ruffles his hair, messing it up.

"Knock it off" Sven mutters, patting the strands that escaped from his bun back down. "She wants me, she's just putting on a show is all. I bet two coppers that by the end of the night I take her out back."

"I'll take that bet," Nik says, patting his coin purse he keeps tied to his belt.

"She seems like she enjoys taking charge that one," Rory says, "I'll bet four that if she does she'll try to pop a finger or two in that little arse of yours," he finishes, which earns another round of laughter.

After a few minutes of conversation, two women bring over tankards of ale that they balance in both hands before returning with another round for the women behind us.

"May we have water instead?" I hear Claire ask, who sits on the opposite side of the table facing me.

The two barmaids share a look but give her a nod and bring back tankards of water instead, leaving the ale on the table which my men quickly snatch up for themselves.

I try to catch her eye to give her a reassuring smile, but she only stares at the table before her as the other women fall into conversation. "Hmph," I exhale, and decide to turn my attention to the men for the time being.

Half an hour later our food is brought and we scarf it down, most of us ordering seconds along with food for the others back at camp. The barmaid was kind enough to agree to pack it away for Nik so he could bring it back after a small bribe of coin.

I use my bread roll to soak up the remains of my tomato soup and turn to Rory. "How's your face?" I ask, taking in his battered state.

"How's yours?" he retorts, and we both laugh lightly.

"Sore but nothing I'm sure neither of us can manage," I reply.

"I'm sorry for the things I said that started it all. They were inexcusable—drunk or not," he apologizes. "I deserve the arse whooping you gave me, not including making myself look like a buffoon in front of everyone."

Giving him a grin, I nod. "Yeah you made yourself look pretty stupid huh?" I tease rhetorically. "But it's okay, really. I know as men we do not think before we act."

Rory nods, "Yeah that's a woman thing perhaps," he agrees. "Speaking of women, how is your nun, Claire? I haven't really gotten much of a chance to talk to her—she's one of the quieter ones of the lot."

My eyes flicker to where she sits and watch as she takes a bite of her shepard's pie. "I find her to be quite interesting. It's fascinating to learn how she thinks and views the world--how they all do, really," I say, shifting my gaze to the curvy blonde two people down from her right. "You and Beth Ann seem to get along rather well."

He gives me a mischievous grin and shrugs a brawny shoulder. "You could say that."

Rolling my eyes, I turn my focus back to my food, taking another bite of soup soaked bread. "I hope you aren't trying to bed her, or any of them for that matter. They're off limits," I censure.

Rory frowns and waves me off with a hand before taking a long sip of his ale. "I'm not that decrepit, brother. Now I'll admit that I fancy the lass, but I'm not touching her until she asks me to."

Sighing, I give my head a shake. "Which they all do eventually," I mutter as I recall his track record. "These women aren't your regular tavern girls or the occasional highborn daughter who likes to mess around behind her father's back. They're different, from what I gather their purity means everything to them, so don't even think about putting your grubby hands on any of them," I say. Looking up, I lock eyes to the few men around us that have been paying attention to our conversation. "That goes for the lot of you."

Rory takes another draw from his drink before sitting the heavy metal tankard down on the wooden table, earning an audible thud. "What if they ask us to? Are we just supposed to say no?"

Exhaling, I run a hand through my hair and try to suppress a smile at my brother's unwavering persistence. "Fine. If they make the first move and ask you to do whatever, I can't hold it against you," I say, confident in the nun's will. "But they are respectable women and I highly doubt they will."

As the night goes on, Nik leaves promising to pick up supplies from the general store and bring the others food. A few others head back with him as well as some of the women, leaving only a small handful of them left. Drinks are poured, more food is ordered, and the entire tavern is in at least some stage of drunkenness save for the nuns. When the fiddler switches songs, Rory takes Beth Ann by the hand, pulling her to her feet. He then dances wildly in circles around her while making a fool of himself though something tells me it's on purpose. She giggles and shakes her head at him before eventually allowing him to take her once more by the hand, this time joining in with silly moves of her own.

Laughing to myself, I take a sip of my ale and for the first time in days feel quite relaxed. With my back leaned against the edge of the table, I'm slouched and have both elbows propped up onto the table. As much as I hate this skid mark of a town, I'm finding that it's not as bad as I remember—save for the monastery incident.

The rest of my men play various gambling games, and by the sounds of glee it seems they seem to be winning against the locals.

Closing my eyes, I tilt my head back enjoying the effects of my drinks and allow myself to appreciate the music and laughter. I sit like this for a few moments when I feel the bench beneath me shift, signaling someone has joined. Opening my eyes, I am pleased to see it is Claire.

"Hello," I say automatically, still lounging back. "Are you enjoying yourself?"

Her eyes take in her surroundings once more and she gives me shake of her head. "I don't really know. The food was better than expected and it's nice to see some of my sisters to have fun, but I can't get what happened earlier from my head and I was hoping we could talk about it."

Sitting up straighter, I toss back the remnants of my ale and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. "Of course," I say, slightly uneasy. I know that this is the reason for her being upset with me—at least I can only assume so—and I'm not sure how the conversation will go.

Pressing her lips together, she looks down and fiddles with a frayed rip in her habit. "I'm angry," she starts. "I'm angry that-"

She's cut off by a woman's voice behind me, its owner placing their hand on my shoulder giving it a squeeze. "You aren't from around here, are you gorgeous?"

I watch as Claire's eyes look up at her, taking her in before looking back at me with an unreadable expression on her small face.

Turning my head, I see a tall woman in her mid-twenties with long black hair trying her best to give me a seductive smile. Her abundant cleavage spills out of her dress, leaving little to the imagination. Bruised markings cover the nape of her neck and I expect them to be love bites from those she's went home within the past few nights.

"I am not, miss," I say, keeping my tone polite.

She bends down and sits next to me on the other side of the long bench before placing a hand on my thigh. "How about you buy me an ale and we get to know one another better?" she asks, giving Claire a disapproving look before fixing her brown eyes back to mine.

The smile comes to my lips before I can help myself and she mistakes it for interest. Really, I find the pout that has formed on Claire's face quite comical and even adorable. "As much fun as you seem to be, I'm with someone tonight," I say, nodding my head towards Claire.

The woman frowns and shoots another look at my redheaded nun and scoffs. "You can't possibly mean her? She's so...," she pauses, trying to find a good word to describe Claire, though her dimwitted mind comes up empty.  "You can't expect a prude like her to give you a good time," she says, her hand still on my thigh.

Now irritated, I look down slowly and back up at the woman. "I was actually having a great time until you came over," I say, gently removing her grip from my leg.

She gives her head another shake in disbelief and stands up before stomping over to Max and attempts to seduce him as well.

"You didn't have to do that," Claire says, "though I'll admit it was entertaining."

I smile swiftly and shrug, waving her off. "She's wasn't really my type. Besides, I prefer redheads," I say slyly. It isn't until her eyes widen in surprise that I realize that I had said. "Sorry, I've had quite a bit to drink tonight." The last thing I wanted to do was make her uncomfortable and come off as some pervert.

Her full lips press together as chooses her next words carefully. "Not that I have any experience, but I once was told that drunken words are a sober man's thoughts," she says, now trying to suppress a grin. "Regardless, it was nice to hear."

I let out a small tuft of laughter and toss a hand into the air, palm upwards. "Well, I think I've had enough whisky and ale in my life to-" I begin, but the audible sound of a hand connecting with skin stops me. Looking over to where it came from, I see that Max holds a red cheek in one hand with a mischievous smile while the woman I rejected only moments before stands over him, yelling and pointing down at him.

"Be right back, love," I say, quickly gaining my feet and walking over to see what is going on.

"You think you can say something like that to me? Do you know who my family is, boy?!" she yells, roughly poking young Max in his chest with one of her painted nails. By now all the music has stopped and we have gained every person's attention in the tavern. "You'd be lucky that I would even let you lay a finger on me in the first place!"

Stepping in, I place a hand on Max's shoulder. "You okay?" I ask, concerned. He gives me a nod and I turn to the woman.

"Oh yes, ask if he's okay—not me," she says, crossing her arms.

Having grown tired of this woman's annoying approach, I decide not to take her bait. "Well, you are the one that hit him, are you not?" I state, rhetorically. "Now what's going on?"

She furrows her drawn on eyebrows and shoots a look at my men who stifle laughs. It's obvious that they had witnessed whatever had transpired only moments before. "That child disrespected me. Seems like you need to keep a better leash on your band heathens."

My eyes tighten at her comment. "Max is no child, though if you believed him to be then why try to sleep with him?" I ask. "Now tell me what he has done so we can move on."

Frowning, she lets out a huff. "Well it's obvious what my profession is," she states, standing up straight to where her cleavage is more abundant. "I thought I could make a few coppers off of him, so I let him get a good handful of my arse. When I tried to collect he refused to pay up."

Sighing, I look down at Max who only shrugs. "Who charges a man for something like that? I've never heard of a prosti-" he says, but I cough loudly to stop him.

Turning back to the woman, I shake my head. "So you decided to assault him for something so small?" I ask before digging in my pocket for a single shilling and handing it over to her. She snatches it quickly and slips it into a pocket of her own hidden in her skirt.

"No. I slapped the boy for what he said to me afterwards," she states. I wait a moment to see if she is going to repeat it, but she doesn't. So, I then turn back to Max giving him a questioning look.

"Well?" I ask.

Max gives a grin and brushes his blond hair from his face before glancing over to Gale who gives him a nod, egging him on.

"After she started chirping about not paying up, she told me I was missing out. So, I said if I wanted to catch the clap I'd fuck one of the town's pigs—it'd be the same thing and I'd even save money."

At this, the entire tavern belts out in laughter and I'll admit, I join in as well. The woman's face grows red in frustration and turns to me, this time jabbing her finger into my own chest, leaving a tender spot underneath. "You have no idea what family you are messing with." She then shoots a glare towards Rory and Beth Ann who sit close together at one of the tables. "And I hope those people suffered at that church." Grabbing the hem of her dress she pushes through the small crowd before exiting the tavern.

The music starts playing once again and I give Max another clap on the back. "Well done," I say, feeling uneasy at her last comment. Given how small Ekon is, it's no surprise that they are aware of what happened at the church, and if I had to bet I'm sure the fiends passed through here not long ago.

"I'm not in trouble?" Max asks, raising a dirty blond brow and regaining my attention. "You know she'll probably send her brothers to our camp or something, right?"

Shaking my head, I reach over him and grab his tankard to find it empty and frown. "No—not this time. And if they do I doubt she has enough brothers or even uncles that will be a match for us," I explain. "Tell the men to finish their drinks and to head back to camp, yeah?" I ask. Looking over to where Rory sits, I see him attempting to calm Beth Ann as his hand holds hers. A silent tear falls down her cheek and she brushes it away with the back of her hand, shaking her head at whatever words he tries to tell her.

Max gives me a nod and I turn, making my way back to Claire who has a bemused expression on her face though she remains silent.

"Ready to leave?" I ask, tossing back the remaining contents of my ale before letting out a belch. "Excuse me," I apologize. The effects of the seven—or was it eight?—tankards I've had have long since set in, the buzz now peaking.

She looks up at me with a half-smile and shakes her head before standing to her feet. "Yes, but are you sure it's okay to leave with tensions so high?"

Looking over the tavern once more, I give a nod. "Aye, besides, who cares?" I ask, waving them off. "We piss off at least one town each time we travel, it's nothing new."

She chuckles and follows me as I hold the door for her and begin to make my way towards the horses. Somewhere along the way the toe of my boot catches on something in the dirt road and I stumble, reaching out for Claire's arm to steady me almost bringing her down.

"Sorry," I apologize once again, cursing the last two ales I had. "Again," I add.

When we reach the horses, I give my mare a loving pat and she lets out a soft nicker after unhitching her. Turning to Claire, I offer her my hand to help her up. She looks at it questioningly and I raise a brow. "What?"

"Do you really think it's a good idea to be riding in your state?" she asks.

My head jerks back at her question and I give a grin. "Are you serious? I've ridden her in far worse states than this."

She folds her arms over her chest and gives me a nod. "I don't want you getting us lost in the middle of nowhere, or leading your horse into something where she can hurt herself."

I want to tell her that camp is only a short ride away and I bet once we get to the outskirts of Ekon we'd be able to see the campfire in the distance, but I don't. Instead, I let out an exaggerated sigh of frustration and give in. "Fine. What do you propose, a nice stroll in the moonlight?"

She smirks and grabs the hem of her dress, hiking it up. She then steps forward into the mud and places her boot in the stirrup, hoisting herself up before looking down at me. "Do you need a hand or do you think you can manage, your grace?" she asks, teasingly.

Letting out an amused scoff, I grab the horn on my saddle and begin to pull myself up, but when I'm about halfway I lose my balance and fall backwards in the mud, landing on my arse. Letting out a slew of curses, I apologize to Claire for my choice of words and stand up, doing my best to brush the mess off but it hardly does any good, only smears my trousers.

Looking up at Claire, I see she looks at me expectantly and I sigh. "I don't want to get you dirty—plus I'd rather not have to clean my saddle in the morning," I say, grabbing my horses bridle. "Come on girl," I tell her, and begin to lead her through Ekon.

"So, you said you are angry?" I ask as I remember our brief conversation from earlier.

She inhales and in the dim light from the moon I see she nods. "Yes. But not so much anymore," she says. "I'm angry about our situation in general for starters. At the men who raided our monastery and then took it upon themselves to do the same for the one here in Ekon. I just don't understand how someone could do such a thing, especially to those who are so innocent. I'm not saying that we are without sin, but those nuns, the monks, the priests? They wouldn't have hurt anyone—why target them?" she asks out loud.

Looking down at the road before us, I give a shrug as we pass by a bakery. "I think that might be one of the reasons in itself. They knew that by targeting them, they wouldn't fight back and would be easy targets. They knew that they could do as they please and hardly any would bat an eye or care."

"I care," she spits. "I knew a lot of them and watched people I cared about be defiled and massacred. They laughed as we screamed and mocked us when we cried for help," she says, stopping herself. "It doesn't matter at this point I suppose, what's done is done."

Turing a corner, we begin our way down the road that takes us out of Ekon. "I'm sorry that you had to go through that," I say, trying to keep the images of what she had to experience—what they all had to. "How are you? Up here I mean," ask, tapping my temple with my index finger.

She sighs and is silent for a long moment. "As good as I can be considering. I believe if it weren't for being a Christian I'd be worse off than what I am. Through God, I've been able to forgive them—not for their sake but for my own. The only victim of hate is yourself in the end, so why make myself more miserable?" she replies.

Nodding, I think on her words and see truth in them. "You're a lot stronger than you let on," I say. "I admire that." My thoughts go to my sister-in-law Cora and Laria and the events they once faced years ago and how strong they remained and still are to this day. Really, women or more resilient then we give them credit for.

She mutters a thank you and as we begin to leave Ekon behind, I decide to keep the conversation going, finding that I truly do enjoy talking to her. "I thought you were going to say that you were angry at me back at the tavern."

She lets out a soft scoff and looks down at me from my horse. "I was. And since we are being somewhat open with each other, I'll admit that I still somewhat am."

I can't help but to give a chortle. "Ah, there it is," I say. "I have a feeling I know what it's about." A picture of swinging bodies hanging from a ceiling pop into mind and my smile ebbs away.

"It was wrong to leave them there like that," she states. "Those were people—people who deserved better. Would you want to be left like that on display for anyone else to come across? To have gravity eventually cause you're rotting corpse to fall into a heap? Who knows how long they will lay there..." she trails. "I can't imagine someone from Ekon finding any goodness in their hearts to cut them down and give them a proper burial."

With one hand still clutching the reins, the other runs through my raven hair that has fallen from the mediocre up-do I had attempted earlier in the morning.

"Claire," I begin. "I apologize for not being able to provide you and the others the comfort that that would have given you—by cutting them down and burying them. I feel since you are our responsibility, it should fall on us as to how you fair during our travels.  But there was nothing we could have done, whoever did it made sure of that."

In the pale moonlight I see she nods her head twice. "I know. It still doesn't mean that I'm any less upset about the matter."

We are silent for a few more moments and are about halfway back to camp when she breaks it. "I want to thank you for all that you have done for us, and for me as well. You've shown kindness when you didn't have to," she tells me. "That means a lot in my book."

At this I give a half-smile and move the reins from one hand to the other so that I can give my horse a pat and loop an arm underneath her muscular neck. "You don't have to thank me for anything Claire. I've done the bare minimum, really. Any decent person would have taken you in and lended aid," I say, shrugging.

"Perhaps," she agrees. "Still, I'm thankful that it was you and not another group of men that found us."

Nodding to myself, I remain quiet and enjoy the cool night air.

"So," she says, wanting to continue the conversation. "Since we are going to be traveling with each other for a few more days and I'll be at your encampment until the war is over, why don't we get to know each other better?" she suggests.

I want to tell her that my drunken mind can't comprehend thoughts all that well at the moment, but I don't. "Okay," I say. "What would you like to know?"

She gives her slender shoulders a shrug. "Tell me about your family. Your brother Rory seems like quite a character."

I give a snort. "Aye. He is. Being the middle brother he does as he pleases but he also knows when it's time to take responsibility," I explain. "My youngest brother—Crispin—is probably the most brooding of the three. He's not as self-absorbed as he once was, thankfully, but there are times I feel like it's my duty to remind him that he's not God's gift to women," I say, earning a laugh from Claire.

"Ever since he met his wife Cora, he's turned out to be one of the best men I know. Having two little ones has helped as well," I add.

"Hmm," she hums. "How did the two meet?"

Blinking, I exhale quickly and try to find the best choice of words on how to describe their story. "Well...Cora has an interesting background to say the least. When my sister Rose was taken captive, my father thought that the best way to retrieve her would be to send Crispin and three others with various skills to fetch her—Cora being one of them," I explain.

"And the other two? What skills do they possess to gain the attention of a king?" she asks.

The sound of hooves catch my attention and I turn around and am able to make out my men headed or way in the distance. They hoot and holler and when they realize that Claire and I are only a few hundred yards ahead they cheer as the close the distance before call out our names drunkenly as they pass by.

Rory—who has Beth Ann behind him gripping his torso—shouts with glee and makes a gesture of tipping his invisible hat at us.

Shaking my head at the lot, I continue. "Cora had a rough life growing up and had to turn to thieving to survive. Turns out she was quite good at it. Laria—a woman I admire for her strength both inside and out—acted as a bodyguard if you will. She's larger than Rory and probably twice the man," I say, chuckling. "Then there is our exotic friend Amiri. He was the assassin, and is still a damned good one from what I've heard. Anyways, my father sent them on a long journey to get Rose back and the rest is history."

Images and memories flash through my mind of my friends and I begin to miss them terribly. Perhaps soon I will be able to see them when I return to Paevia, if not I could at least pay them a visit in their homeland.

"So I assume that they were able to get her back? Rose, I mean." she asks.

Camp is only about a fifty meters away at this point, and I can see that the drinking has continued around the fire while those that stayed behind finish up their meals that Nik brought.

"Um, no. She ended up falling in love with her captor and had a child—two actually. Twins. We don't keep in touch that much, only a few letters a year," I say quietly. It still bothered our family that Rose chose life with the Roriks over us. I really don't like talking about it all that much—especially Crispin, and with good reason. The only good thing that came out of it was a sort of peace treaty between us and the savages—they'd stay out of our lands and we them. That and the fact that Rose is content with her new life, which is more than what I can say when she was at home with us.

"Oh, I see. I'm sorry..." Claire trails, no doubt processing everything I have told her. "I can't imagine being in that situation. Any of theirs. Your brother's, Cora's, Rose's, your father's..." she trails, giving her head a shake.

"Yeah, well what's done is done I suppose. My sister is happy at least," I answer.

I lead my mare over with the others and hitch her to a small tree. When I turn around to assist Claire, I see that she has already hopped down to the ground. In the distance I hear splashing in the shallow river followed by laughter and I debate whether or not to bathe now or in the morning. Considering I'm covered in mud and it would probably sober me up, I decide to just get it over with.

Together we walk over to the fire and Claire rejoins the other women, sitting between Alma and the one with the sour attitude earlier—Darla—who eyes me suspiciously as if I somehow am guilty of taking Claire away from her. Ignoring this, I turn to Nik who lay's sleepily on the soft grass, poking one of the flaming logs with a stick. "Who all is in the river?" I ask, followed by a hiccup.

He mumbles something before looking up at me lazily, and it's then that I spot the empty water skin that he had filled with ale at the tavern. "Uh...your brother, the priest, and...I forgot the rest."

Nodding, I make my way to my tent and grab fresh clothes before using the pale light of the moon to find the way to the river. It's not too hard, as I easily follow the loud drunken voices the echo across the smooth grassy plain our encampment sits in. Ideally it's not the best spot, but Ekon isn't surrounded by anything else unless we backtrack to the woods where the church was in.

As I draw closer, I hear Rory make an innuendo about Gale and his girl back at home, followed by a few snickers. In the darkness, I can make out Father Anthony, Rory, Gale, Warren, Benjamin, and a few others.

"Yeah well at least she's smart enough to stay away from your ridden c-" Gale begins to shoot back, but when the notice me at the rocky shore he stops and gives me a wave. "Hey Thomas," he greets, before bending down and scrubbing his legs with a bar of soap.

"Gale," I say lightly as I remove my shirt. "Don't let Rory get under your skin, he's just upset because Kestrel wanted you and not him." I'm kidding of course, but there is truth behind my words. When we were younger in our teen years, Rory was head over heels for Kestrel—being a beauty with her long brown hair and gray eyes and all. But she never paid much attention to him or any other boy for that matter. Not until she finally decided to give Gale a chance and the two have been obsessed with each other ever since.

It's strange, their situation, as the they both sleep with other people from time to time—sometimes even bring another man or woman in bed with them—and neither ever get jealous. Rory is bothered by it though because no matter how hard he tries, she ignores him.

Ignoring my jab, Rory turns to me. "Had a nice little stroll in the moonlight did we?" he asks, changing the subject. He then squats down in the water and does his best to wash his hair.

Dropping my pants and skivvies, I carefully navigate the rough stones beneath my feet until I too am in the cold water. Wiggling my toes in the muck, I turn to Warren and ask to borrow his soap. Instead, he tosses me his water skin. "Not until you finish that, your grace," he says with a smirk.

Rolling my eyes, I pop the cork and toss my head back, quickly chugging the bitter mixture inside. "I came here to sober up, you know," I say, keeping my tone light as I toss back the water skin. When he catches it, he throws back his soap and I struggle to catch it. Given how slippery it is, my hands fumble around as it slides from one palm to the other before splashing into the water beneath me.

"That was new," Warren complains.

"It's here somewhere," I mutter, bending over and feeling around blindly for the soap. Benjamin and those that stand behind me groan while one makes a remark about my naked backside. Finding the soap, I stand back up and turn halfway around as an idea surfaces to my head. Lifting my right leg ever so slightly, I pass gas earning a bout of laughter from everyone.

That's how it's always been between my men and I—nothing to hide, no secrets, everything out in the open and everyone free to be who they want to be. I realize early on in my military career that those are the type of people that you can truly trust and lean on when needed, and that's why they are all here tonight.

We carry on for what seems like an hour, all of us having finished washing long ago. Father Anthony left as soon as he was done, uncomfortable by our jokes I suppose and went to bed with the majority of the others. As we let the night air dry us off on the shore, more ale is passed around and right when the last drop is finished off by Gale, the sound of a woman's scream fills the air.

OKAY, so I know this chapter was long and maybe not all that good, but I feel like it was needed to definitely progress the story and Thomas/Claire's friendship ☺ Hope you enjoyed and HAPPY THANKSGIVING!!