I dreamt of a harem filled with sexy cat-girls. Normally, that would be a fun-filled fantasy, but after Leyla’s reaction, it was a nightmare. We both woke a little bleary-eyed. I caught her gaze as we all started to stir. We may have had our differences, but we both knew some things were just evil. I gave her a nod in understanding. I don’t know if it made much of a difference, but I thought I saw a little bit of that shell of hatred crack.

  The morning passed without incident as we broke camp and saddled up for the day’s ride. Rogan passed out dry rations around midday, and I was included for once. He even let me keep a waterskin. I treated it like a prized possession.

  We caught sight of a group of other travelers a little while after that. We came around a bend and could see a bit of kicked-up dust ahead of us. Everyone tensed up at the sight of the dust. Well, everyone except for me, as I had no idea of what was going on. Leyla stood up in her saddle and called back, visibly relaxed.

  “Wagon, three Bulkin, two horse, headed away.”

  Everyone eased up a bit. I didn’t know the reason for the tension. I assumed that there must be some level of banditry or something.

  “Lay, ride ahead and let them know we are coming and are friendly. Offer them a free escort if they are going our way.” Shy called out loudly despite only being a horse ahead of her. The fox then pulled her horse out of line and paused on the side of the trail. The action was odd, but I figured it would give Leyla an easier time to ride ahead. Odder was that after Leyla picked up a faster trot, Shy didn’t return to the lead but instead let the three men walk past.

  “Human, halt your mighty steed for a moment.”

  Nelly complied with zero input from me.

  “We are in more traveled lands and will likely see more travelers on the road. I will give you this warning. You are valuable, but my reputation is more valuable. Am I clear?” The threat of harm was thinly veiled.

  “Yes, mistress. May I ask for your assistance?” I had a plan.

  “Go on….” She was intrigued.

  “My memory of this world and decorum still hasn’t returned, but would it be unheard of for a party such as yours to have a human attendant quite resigned to his fate?”

  She didn’t respond vocally, but I did receive a sly smile and a head nod before she kicked her horse and retook her position at the front of the line.

  When Leyla didn’t halt or return to us after half an hour or so, Shy had us increase speed to catch up with the wagon. It was a bit too much speed for Nelly, so we arrived quite a bit after everyone else, and to a conversation in progress.

  “…….to the way camp and Verdant Cross.”

  “Aye, same for us. Roads have been pretty good as of late.”

  “Good enough for you to travel a load unguarded?”

  “We are chancing it a bit on this stretch. Parted from a bigger caravan that had a delivery to make. Figured this stretch was good enough to risk the main road and The Cross. Someone is almost always camped there, and even if we had to wait a day, it's far safer than going it alone. Bound to be a group headed north to Har’at.”

  “We are headed that way ourselves.”

  “See, Dot. I told you we would be fine.”

  “Could have just as easily been bandits. Look, now they even travel with scum.”

  “Sister, now please. I know you have no love for the humans, and for good reason, but the good lady Kitsune explained his presence.”

  “Yes, sister. It’s not often adventurers will waive an escort fee. If you burr too much, they may move on without us.”

  The conversation seemed to be light and normal between mostly the two bulkin, who I took to be brothers, and Gorn. Even if their hate of humans united them, they mainly interacted with their own kind.

  “It is no worries, Mister Yakko. We are going the same way after all. Bandits will strike at an unguarded wagon or chance a small group of riders, but most would be wary of a guarded convoy.” Shy was ever the diplomat.

  “Sept, if they think any single wagon worth five guards is, might be worth the risk. And not to be rude, but I’m not thinking the waived fee is all just to tolerate one human. Now, is it mistress Shy?” The other Bulkin was speaking. He seemed to be the more business-like of the two.

  “Master Wacko is quite correct……..”

  I didn’t hear the rest as I almost fell off of Nelly laughing. I was able to turn it into a coughing fit to cover it, but that was some real irony. The three Bulkin, Wacko, Yakko, and their sister, Dot. I couldn’t not laugh at that. A stern look from Shy and slightly offended looks from the bulkin told me my coughing may not have covered the laugh near enough.

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  “Apologies, Mistress. I caught a bit of dust in the nose and it tickled me into a small fit. Greetings, noble sirs! Brother Yakko, Brother Wacko, Sister Dot. Please let this one know if he may be of service.” I tried to lay it on significantly thick. The bulkin seemed the provincial trader type and probably never received a dignified servant’s service. I hoped that would smooth over any previous and probable future undignified outbursts at their name.

  “Quite” was Shy’s only reply.

  “Tis no problem, gentle sir. The road can be rough on the weaker species.” The brothers seemed mollified by my answer. The sister only gave me an all too familiar glare.

  I bowed my head and let Nelly slip us a little further behind the wagon. It was quite a bit dustier in the back despite the higher quality of the current road. I accepted the grime only because I needed the cover to finish practicing my remote tattooing process.

  About an hour before sunset, we met up with a true and proper road. It was still dirt but well used, and it was wide enough that you could easily travel it four wagons abreast. I assumed that this was the main road that led to the city of Har’at that all the beastkin had mentioned. Which meant I had less than a full day to mark my remaining captors.

  I felt I had mastered the remote technique with the impromptu charcoal ink enough to get the last of them. I would do Rogan next, as he was the easiest to get close to. I had been given the task of managing the fire. Despite my culinary input, that one morning, I was not allowed to cook any further. I would have thought it was due to a fear of poison, but I had overheard a conversation between Rogan and Gorn. It was simply that I used too many of his precious ingredients for camp fare, and if Gorn wanted ‘fancy human food’, he could pay for it.

  We were only on the main road for an hour when our destination became clear. The camp we had stayed at last night was simple and utilitarian. This place was a wall or two short of a proper inn. There were at least a dozen of the similar lean-tos with canvas covers draped across the front of several already. We turned the horses loose in the much larger corral and set to the task of making camp. After the horses were fed, we started to set up our camp in the structure we had claimed. The Bulkin trio opted to billet with another caravan of their folk that was heading in the same direction. We were told, loudly, that our services were not required. The terms ‘cut-rate adventurers’, ‘fuzz-bare’, and ‘northern sympathizers’ were shouted loud enough that the whole camp and sixty or so beastkin present heard them.

  I asked Rogan what it was all about.

  “Close to north. Hate high here. Probably think you are spy. Surprised none offer to buy, even if just to kill.” His words affirmed it wasn't really their skills or lack of ascension that was the issue, but that they had a human in tow. I told him I understood as the pitch on on of the logs flared up. I used the flash to mark him as I readjusted the logs. He made a slight grunt and scratched his ass but made no more remark on it at all. His scratch was what concerned me. That was where I marked him, because who was going to be looking at a rhino’s ass?

  Shy returned from her ‘negotiations’ a little while later, visibly flustered by the interaction. I had anticipated this, and being the dutiful little helper, I had already set up her bedroll and pack. It made me a little sick to be such a sycophant, but if I play a role, I play the role.

  “Mistress, I set up your bed in the best spot I could find in the back. I will find my customary corner after the masters and Miss Layla choose their spots. I believe I saw Rogan pulling out some of your favorite spices for tonight’s dinner. Again, I apologize for any hardship my presence has caused.”

  “It is fine servant. Their hate of your kind is well earned, but you are my property, and I am still offended by their disrespect. We would not be earning much on any contract north anyway. There are eight caravans here with guards that are all going to Har’at, so we would only be meddling extra blades. That said, as ‘A Healer’, I would think they would afford me some actual respect! I can smell your saddle sores from here!” she was yelling at the end, certain to be heard across the camp. I saw a few heads turn at the healer’s remark, but no one came to her defense. I was betting some might sneak over after true dark, though.

  I was dismissed to a corner of the lean-to shortly after dinner was finished. I went to gather up waterskins to go fill at the stream I saw outside of camp when Petior stopped me.

  “They would take offense.” He said, waving his army back to indicate the entire camp.

  “To me, gathering water?”

  “Some would worry about poison. Others would just say your presence ‘contaminated’ it, likely the same who would walk upstream to piss.” I unfortunately understood the sentiment. I appreciated his decorum. He stiffened and his ears twitched when I marked him. He emitted a low growl. I backed away, looking innocent but having all my resources ready in a heartbeat.

  “Those cowards……”

  “What happened?”

  “A hex of some sort. It was small and swift, I almost missed it.”

  “A hex?”

  “Bad magic.”

  “Someone cursed you?”

  “Much less than a curse, probably just minor bad luck or something that will be a pain in the tail.”

  “Why? Who?”

  “The why is easy as payback for you. I would think they would see being a slave as a fate worse than death, but for many, death is the only fate for humans in the South. Even working with humans in any way carries a stigma, slave or not.”

  He tightened up after that and went to setting up his bedroll, the skins discarded where he had been standing. He was setting up a smaller totem, so I decided to enlist Gorn to fetch the water.

  “Master Graygorn, this one apologizes for being a bother, but Master Petior expressed that it would be both uncouth and unwise if I were to fetch the water in such august company as that which occupies the camp.”

  “Huh?” I guessed he got lost with a few of the words.

  “Pete said people would get angry if I got the water.”

  “Then why ain’t he doing it?”

  “He believes that someone here may have hexed him. I believe he is setting up a ward of some sort.” I gestured over to where the werewolf was still working. This seemed to mollify the bull.

  “Well then, just tell me that next time, servant.”

  “Yes, master Gorn.”

  He reluctantly got up and went over to the pile of skins. I followed appropriately and handed them up to him so he wouldn't have to stoop. My little stage show was going well. However, a good actor knows when to dip backstage. In this case, my backstage was my bedroll. I would grab my skin in the morning. I would have done most anything for a hot shower at this point, or at least a toothbrush.