In the morning, a rather subdued wife and wife joined Ma for breakfast. Ma as imaginative as ever, they didn’t ask, simply smiled knowingly. Julie didn’t notice that, but Sammy did and perhaps returned Ma’s knowing smile with one of her own.

Once it came to travelling, though, it was a day like any other for them, just that Julie rode side-saddle. Of course, their midmorning break was another story entirely as Ma was treated to Sammy pampering her wife. She sat behind Julie and reached around to massage her abdomen, left little kisses on her nape, whispered things that made her giggle and smile.

Although neither wife said why, Ma caught on quickly and felt a bittersweet kind of envy.

For their lunch break, Sammy insisted on pushing on to a village or town, so they stopped just after midday at what really was more of a hamlet built around an inn, blacksmith, and farrier.

After speaking to the innkeeper, Ma told Sammy and Julie, “It is for farmers? A lot of horse breding is done this places.”

“Breeding,” Sammy said with an amused smile, imagining breaded horses. However, Sammy saying that word with emphasis rather warmed Julie’s cheeks. She was thankful no one noticed.

Before they had lunch, Sammy and Ma waited for Julie to wash up. Once she returned, they got started on a thick stew full of gamy meat, the root vegetables more of a side. Julie ate a little slower, but still finished her portion and her reward was another cuddling session. The dining chairs not good for that, Sammy pulled her outside and they sat under a tree by the pasture the horses grazed in, idly watching the herd snort and chew, tails swishing, ears twitching.

Ma stayed inside for another drink before joining them. They walked up slowly, not exactly hesitating, but feeling like they were intruding. Still, they sat down a step away from wife and wife.

“My monthly not bad. But it is, hmm, sad. I no can tell anyone and need hide it,” Ma said.

Sammy thought for a moment. “That is sad—you have my sympathy,” she said.

Such a dry response, Ma burst into chuckles before calming down with a deep breath. “Thank you, Mrs Sammy,” they said.

“You’re welcome.”

Ma found it funny, but just that little had loosened the envy in their chest. “I live long time hiding. So long, I forgot how nice be free is. No, wait, I never be free before. I always hiding something. But wife and wife know me and accept me, no one else. I not alone. So very thank you.”

After a moment, Sammy said, “You’re welcome.”

Again, Ma found it funny, but they didn’t laugh this time, sticking with a soft smile instead. “There was one time,” Ma said, sharing another story. Once they finished, Sammy shared another part of her journey with Julie. The stories went back and forth until it was time to set off.

Over their midafternoon break, Sammy practised some more with godsbane. The day before, she’d managed to make holy water appear away from her; this time, she tried to keep holy water in a bowl from disappearing. Once she managed that, she summoned a tiny bit of godsbane above it. With a sharp crackle, the godsbane darted down and devoured most of the holy water, leaving the bowl unscathed.

“Perfect,” she muttered.

Careful not to overwork herself—which would worry Julie—she repeated that a few times. The mechanical actions of it weren’t challenging for her, her focus the issue. Even something simple like breathing to a particular rhythm was easy to fall out of, never mind the concentration she needed to keep the holy water there while trying to make the godsbane appear in the place she wanted it to.

Once she felt her mind fatiguing, she returned to Julie, more pampering until it was time to go. Julie noticed Sammy was quiet at that time, but didn’t bring it up. Though she didn’t understand what Sammy’s blessing were like to use, she knew how capable Sammy was, so it surely was straining if it tired her out.

Evening saw them stop early to make sure they had an inn to stay at. After eating and sharing a couple of stories, wife and wife retired while Ma stayed up for another drink or two.

In the quiet of their room, Sammy asked, “How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine,” Julie said, softly smiling.

Sammy returned the small smile, then set her sights lower. “Would you like a massage?”

“Just where are you gonna massage?” Julie asked, laughter in her voice as she crossed her arms across her chest.

So it was a quieter night in their room.

The next day, they followed a similar routine of travel and pampering and stories. The day after, Julie’s appetite returned and, come evening, the night wasn’t so quiet, Julie repaying some of Sammy’s pampering. Another day of travelling later, Julie happily told Sammy, “It’s light now, so just a day or two more.”

Only for Julie to be doused by Sammy replying, “Ah, that is when mine should start.”

Julie felt terrible for feeling terrible, but their new-found connection meant so much to her. It was when she could honestly convey all her love to her precious wife and receive all her wife’s love without feeling unworthy. There was such an honesty to it all, unable to hide how she felt, unable to deny how Sammy felt.

As if all that was written on Julie’s face, Sammy held both her hands and looked her in the eye. “My first day is quite rough, but we can be somewhat indulgent the days after,” she murmured, soft voice drawing Julie in closer. And as if that was her plan, Sammy leant in for a kiss, just a peck, Julie chasing her as she pulled back. “There are certainly many ways for us it indulge, no?”

Julie wasn’t embarrassed by such teasing these days. “Many ways,” she said, her smile back.

Meanwhile, poor Ma sat downstairs by themself, feeling more like a third wheel these days than they had the rest of the trip.

Farther north and ever closer to the trading ports, the roads became broader and better laid, some stops for traders here and there and the villages otherwise closer together, especially once they crossed into the next country. While not the same as the Union of Western Ports, Mahnor was a grand republic, in effect ruled by the merchant princes. In principle, any citizen of good standing could be voted in, but most workers understood the importance of voting for whoever their bosses told them to, so the old money spoke loudest.

At least, that was what Sammy had learned of Mahnor, telling Julie as they went. Ma didn’t exactly disagree with that description, though.

“There’s a lot of, um, not-kingdoms here?” Julie said.

Sammy chuckled at that way of putting it. “Well, there is a long and complicated explanation that I believe is more right than wrong, but the simple answer is that the cities are too powerful and they don’t want to pay taxes to a king.”

For someone raised on royal grounds, it was rather jarring to hear that a king was weaker than a mayor. But, the more she thought about it, Hopschtat basically was Schtat these days, sprawling out and up. If Hopschtat decided not to pay taxes, she wasn’t sure how the King would force them to.

Mahnor a thin country along the coast, Ma guessed it would only take two days to reach the port at their current pace. Sammy kept that in mind through the morning and, over lunch, said, “I think we should stop here for the day.”

Although Julie had long since stopped doubting Sammy, Ma asked, “Why? The ship not rest enough?”

“My monthly should arrive tomorrow, so your guess will be a bit wrong. We’ll rest tomorrow and travel slower the days after.”

“Ah, your monthly bad?” Ma asked.

Sammy smiled, gaze drifting to Julie. “It is better these days.”

Ma chuckled, amused as ever by the blatant flirting between wife and wife. “Very well. You the boss,” they said.

With the plan settled, they wandered the town for another inn, the one they’d been at for lunch rather cheap and Sammy didn’t want to have her next meals there; neither did Julie or Ma, offering no opposition to Sammy’s insistence. So they found something that was more of a bed and breakfast: a large family house where the children had mostly moved out, parents and daughter renting out the two spare rooms.

For now, the travellers sat with the daughter in the kitchen, tea brewing. It was a very different kitchen than Sammy and Julie were used to. They hadn’t seen many in Alfen, mostly staying at inns. There wasn’t an oven, but a broad range, space to cook four different pots or pans at a time. A large sack also took up a whole corner, Sammy spotting some loose rice around it. In the air hung the scent of a little spice and raw meat, but that was soon overwhelmed by the tea, fragrance citrusy.

The daughter’s name was Puwhie, which Julie thought was unfortunate until she realised that, obviously, poo and wee didn’t mean anything in the local language. Just that, without that sorry feeling, she then had to stop herself from laughing when Ma informed her and Sammy that the daughter went by Pupu.

Growing up in a barracks, even a women’s one, led to a somewhat immature sense of humour.

If Sammy had the same struggle, she didn’t show it and even spoke a little with Pupu. While not similar enough to be called a dialect, Mahnorn had a lot of overlap with Paschimi. Such was culture between countries founded on trade.

“Pupu, no man?” Sammy asked in Mahnorn, borrowing a page from Ma’s book and not trying to appear fluent when being understandable was better.

After a chuckle, Pupu shook her head. “The men ’round here are no better than boys, greedy and impatient,” she said.

Sammy nodded along, then looked to Ma for a translation. Ma chuckled, but dutifully obliged, Julie caught up too.

It took a few more questions for Pupu to get a handle on Sammy’s level, the two rather sounding like children how simply they spoke. But that meant Ma was free to keep Julie up and cut in if they were misunderstanding each other.

Once the tea was finished, Pupu showed them upstairs. “Both rooms have two beds, but are the guests”—high pitched—“gonna have the bigger one?” she asked.

“Yes,” Ma said.

Four rooms came off the landing, two being the bedrooms, one a “wet room”, the last a closet. “There’s some odd ends in here if ya need,” Pupu said, showing the assortment that went from spare sheets to a bucket and ragged cloth. “And the wet room for washing and bathing.” The whole room was tiled and just the slightest bit sunken, a drain beside the toilet with tap above it.

After Ma translated that, Sammy asked them to ask, “Is water scarce?”

So Ma asked, “Is there plenty of water?”

“Oh yeah, don’t worry,” Pupu said, nodding. “Just don’t drink it. It’s fine if you’re local, but travellers, well, I’m sure ya know.”

Smile wry, Ma passed that along.

When it came to the bedrooms, Sammy had Ma ask, “D’you mind if they move the beds together?”

Pupu frowned for a moment, then broke into a smile. “Oh, they’re good friends?” she said.

Ma’s eyes pinched from their broad smile. “Very close friends,” they said.

“Just lift it when you move it so you don’t scratch the floor,” Pupu said.

Having spent the last couple of weeks in more rural places, the simple town room still impressed them. Two beds with side tables, a chest of drawers, even an oil lamp, floor wooden and thick curtains flanking the broad window. While nothing was painted, the natural browns of the furniture and off-white of the bedding gave it a comfortable aesthetic, calming.

“Let me help,” Ma said, taking one end of the bed, Sammy the other. As solid as it was, neither showed any strain in lifting it—leaving Pupu wide-eyed since Sammy didn’t exactly look like the strong sort. That reaction amused Julie, a little reminder of how normal Sammy felt to her by now.

With the bed moved, Sammy said to Ma, “We’ll relax for now, but, if I’m not mistaken, she is interested in you.”

Ma’s eyebrows wiggled, smile mischievous. “I think so too.”

The group split, Pupu showing Ma to their room, closing the door on their way out. For a moment, Sammy and Julie just looked at each other, softly smiling, then Julie set about checking their packs. Tomorrow would be a good day to stock up, Julie thought.

However, it didn’t take long for Sammy’s allure to lure Julie away from more productive tasks, Julie sitting next to her wife and rubbing her back. “Have the cramps started already?” she asked.

Sammy shook her head. “I get rather tender the day or two before,” she whispered.

“D’you want me to tenderly tend to your tenderness?” Julie asked, very pleased by her own cleverness.

Sammy giggled and rewarded Julie with a kiss, long and shallow. “Please do.”

While wife tended to wife, Ma coaxed Pupu into conversation, the afternoon ending up as a date to the market and to groom the horses. An afternoon made up of little moments with shy smiles and cute giggles.

When Sammy and Julie came down for dinner, Ma noticed they were now both wearing ribbons around their necks, the colours different, and Julie’s fringe was kept aside by a hair clip with a glassy gem. At least, they presumed it was glass, but the kind of money Sammy gave out left them with a smidgen of doubt.

Still, that little change warmed Ma’s heart. What they had come to love about wife and wife was their softness. This was like a glimpse into their future where they would both dress so prettily, unashamed of being wife and wife, no need for one to act as a husband. A softness they only had with each other. No matter how sweetly Ma spoke, Sammy never looked at them the same as she looked at Julie, and vice versa. Two flowers entwined, covered in thorns. Ma didn’t mind. They could appreciate beauty without plucking it.

As for Sammy, even with a lesser appetite, she still drew big smiles from Pupu and her mother, apparently knowing the culture of Mahnorn food.

“The sweet rice cake goes wonderfully with the stew,” Sammy said to Ma to translate.

Smile wry again, Ma dutifully translated, to which the mother replied by adding another rice cake to Sammy’s plate.

Sammy dutifully cut it in half and moved some to Julie’s plate. “You must have some more,” she said.

So dinner became this game of Sammy’s sweet tongue causing her trouble, Julie and Ma trying to help out, knowing how rude it would be to leave food on their plates, all three on the verge of laughter. Sammy had a sneaking suspicion that it wasn’t so simple, though, catching the word “asuwan” muttered between mother and daughter. It was something of a slur, referring to a common myth among the Alfen coasts of a ghostly being with pale skin that hung off bleached bone, but which wasn’t really intended to be offensive. Sammy wasn’t sure how being likened to a horrific figure could be a positive thing, though.

Regardless, she didn’t make a fuss of it, not entirely sure she had even heard correctly. She just hoped the next day wouldn’t include more attempts at fattening her up.

After dinner, and some time to digest, Sammy and Julie got to indulge in the wet room. While not as good as a bath, that they could spill water made it much more enjoyable than simply wiping down. All the more so since Sammy heated the bucket first. How long it had been since they’d properly washed their hair too, just some soap enough to make a good difference.

Julie ran her fingers through Sammy’s hair, untangling a few knots. “Your hair’s so beautiful and smooth,” she whispered, idly curling the end around her finger.

“And yours is so fluffy,” Sammy replied, sliding both hands to the back of Julie’s head where she then fluffed it up, eager to aid the natural curliness she so rarely saw. Even when they did bathe, Julie had mostly avoided cleaning her hair with more than warm water.

Evening saw them tenderly indulge, soft and slow, ending with a period of reading until they snuggled up to sleep. As close as they were, they really hadn’t needed a second bed.

It was in the late hours of the night, blending into the early hours of the morning, that Sammy awoke, face in a grimace. Then, a hand gently kneaded her abdomen.

“Cramps?” mumbled a sleepy Julie.

“Yes,” Sammy whispered.

“Little lamb, little lamb, are you lost?

“Shall I take you home with me?

“Little lamb, little lamb, don’t be sad,

“There is so much more to see.”

As Julie softly sang, her hand continued to massage Sammy, her barely lucid state encouraging her to feel her wife. The combination of soft flesh and firm muscle still fascinated her, fingers so eager to push in and rub.

That was something Sammy had learned, smiling to herself knowing just how Julie was more like three-quarters asleep, an awake Julie much more gentle. But Sammy liked how hard Julie was pressing, so simply enjoyed the not-so-tender ministrations accompanied by a lullaby that had once sounded so haunting.

It didn’t take Julie long to doze off entirely. Although still sore, Sammy felt so wonderfully settled, already drifting off too.

“How can I be lost without a home?” Sammy mumbled. After a few seconds, she said, “Ah, I became lost when I met you.”

The next day, once through the struggle of breakfast, Sammy walked off the worst of her cramps with Julie, slowly wandering around the shops and market, checking on the horses. Meanwhile, Ma went on their own date with Pupu to pass the time.

Lunch not included in their stay, Sammy and Julie went to one of the places they found. They’d eaten a handful of chocolate desserts across Alfen, rice too, but this small tavern served something quite interesting. “I think they said that they use a new grain from abroad? If I’m correct, it’s something an explorer found in the far south and they’ve started growing it in Lapdose and southern Alfen. An ambassador brought some to the palace last year, but only father and mother tried it,” Sammy said, excitement in her voice.

Julie smiled, as always not so much interested in the explanation as in indulging her wife. “Let’s try it, then?” she said.

So they did. It was a savoury dish, grain mashed into porridge and mixed with chocolate—but not the sweet chocolate they knew. To go with it was a portion of salted fish and a drink made of coconut milk and mango. Julie wasn’t sure at first, some of it quite rich for her tastes, but soon found that each of the flavours did a good job of balancing the others out. By the end, she fell into a pattern of porridge, fish, porridge, drink, which worked out perfectly for her.

“Like it?” Sammy asked with a cute smile.

Julie felt embarrassed for a moment, then got over herself. “Yeah.”

“So, somewhere where we can grow chocolate and this new grain and catch fatty fish, and see the snow, with a heated bath,” Sammy said.

Once Julie caught on, she was overcome with shyness again, ducking her head and focusing on her food. But she still softly said, “That’d be nice.”

“It would.”

They then returned to the bed and breakfast for the afternoon, Julie tenderly tending to her tender wife once more. Dinner was another unusual meal, each dish sharply flavoured, but distinct, blending nicely when eaten together. Having learned from the night before, Ma took on more of a role in the conversation. It helped that she was closer to Pupu now, knowing what distracting things to ask the mother, the father easily placated by offers of filling his cup with the strong rice wine he liked.

Not so bloated this time, Sammy settled easier once she and Julie retired. Julie busied herself with reorganising their packs, adding in the things they’d bought in the morning, only to find Sammy asleep when she finished.

Softly smiling, Julie stood up carefully, legs a little numb, then tiptoed to the bed and squatted down. Sammy lay on her side, loose hairs scattered over the front of her face, gentle breaths making them flutter. Julie couldn’t imagine a more peaceful sight. Yet, selfish, she dared brush those loose hairs, fingertips lingering on her wife’s soft skin, so familiar, so inviting, hand aching to slide through Sammy’s hair and cradle the back of her head. Unbidden, Julie licked her lips, gaze fell to Sammy’s soft lips. A wife with so much softness, hiding a firm centre. Julie loved knowing that that was their little secret, something no one else would ever know.

Julie helped herself to Sammy’s lips, gentle, pleased by the smile that was left behind. “Sleep well,” she murmured.

Knowing better than to leave her wife to sleep alone, Julie went back to the packs for the book Sofia had given them, then leant against the bed. Although she couldn’t read a word of Formadgian, the story staining the pages had imprinted on her memory, an echo of Sammy’s voice, low and rich, turning every word into a euphemism.

And as night settled, Julie tended to herself amidst memories of her precious wife. Once done and tidied up, she carefully crawled into bed, only to end up face to face with Sammy.

“I need to pee,” Sammy whispered.

Julie smiled. “Okay,” she whispered back.

Without thinking about it, Julie joined Sammy in the wet room, a more modest kind of intimacy they had come to share as Julie didn’t even ask Sammy to wait outside when it was her turn to go. Julie also took the chance to wash some things as Sammy cleaned her sanitary cloth.

Back in their room, some of the sleepiness had been wiped away, the two staring into each other’s eyes as they lay on the bed. Eventually, Sammy spoke.

“I’ve been thinking… would you be comfortable with Ma continuing to journey with us?” she asked, whispering.

Julie wasn’t expecting the question now, but had thought before how much more enjoyable travelling with Ma was compared to with Yewry. “I, um, I guess I like travelling with them, but I think… I like travelling with just us more.”

Sammy smiled. “Me too. It’s just that, going north, we’re more likely to run into bad people. Having Ma around would help deter those people from starting trouble. However, my plan is to avoid the worst of the places, and I’m confident I can keep you safe, so it’s not that we need Ma.”

Julie wasn’t the best at making these kinds of decisions, naturally ended up deferring to Sammy. “If you think it’s better, I don’t mind,” she said.

“Well, it would still be up to them, but I wouldn’t suggest it if I didn’t think it would help us,” Sammy said.

Nothing to say to that, Julie said nothing.

After the silence dragged on, Sammy said, “Goodnight, Lia.”

As always, Julie broke into a warm smile upon hearing that nickname, especially when part of a good morning or goodnight.

“Goodnight, Sammy.”