It was their last night together. The elves had been separated from the rest of their village when the slave ship came for them, then divided again when they were sold off in groups at auction. Now they were going to split apart even further, this time by choice and circumstances.

  Diavla made sure to spend time with each of the elves who were going to leave the caravan to hide in the woods. With some, there wasn't much to say. With others, no amount of time would be enough. Finally, Diavla curled up with Varga in one of the wagons, talking quietly in the dark. Varga was fairly drunk.

  “You're a great friend, Dee. A great friend.”

  “Thanks, so are you.”

  “I am your friend.”

  “And I am yours.”

  “I am your admirer.”

  “And I am yours.”

  “I want your body.”

  Diavla sighed. “Sorry.”

  “I know, I know. You're awesome. You're a great friend, Dee.”

  “Thanks, so are you.”

  “I wanna kiss you. Can I kiss you?”

  Diavla thought it over. “Just kissing. Don't get your hopes up.”

  “I don' wanna leave w'out kissing you, is all. I don'…I don't wanna leave w'out kissing you.”

  “I said ‘yes’.”

  “I really want…what?”

  Diavla shook with silent laughter for a moment. “Don't make me change my mind. Kiss me before I come to my senses.”

  “Oh, Dee…” Feeling in the dark, their lips met in a chaste kiss. Diavla held her friend as the kiss lengthened and slowly grew more heated. Diavla did her best, and was surprised that she found it pleasant.

  She fended off the rest of her friend's drunken advances with good humor, and held her until she fell asleep. This will be goodbye, my friend. At least I could give you that. I hope I see you again someday.

  ° ? ? ? °

  The next morning was the tenth of Dunvar, what Tom called Sixday. Diavla woke with a mild hangover. Warily, she cracked one eyelid to find that she was still curled up with Varga in the wagon. Diavla pulled her shirt on, moving slowly so as not to aggravate the throbbing in her head. She tucked the blanket over her friend to give her a few more minutes of warmth, then braced herself as she stepped out onto the wagon seat, her eyes slitted against the mild morning light.

  “Ah.” Tom walked over the moment he saw her. “Good morning.” He kept his voice quiet, which Diavla appreciated, and she climbed down to him. Then she realized that he was offering her a cup of cold water and a piece of bread. Oh, you wonderful man. Diavla took them gratefully.

  “You sleep good?” Tom asked politely.

  Diavla thought back. She hadn't had any nightmares. Her soul was a bit preoccupied with other things, it seemed. “Yes, actually. I did sleep well…saa, I sleep good,” she repeated in simpler Elvish. After she finished her snack, she got more and retreated back to the wagon, looking at her friend fondly while she slept.

  It was a little longer before Varga stirred. Diavla passed her the water and bread as she got dressed. “Thank you,” Varga said tenderly. “You're wonderful.”

  “That's pretty much how I reacted when Tom brought the same for me.”

  “Tom brought you water and bread?”

  “And he kept his voice down.”

  “A gentleman. You should add him to your clan.”

  “I'm not sure my mother could handle having a human in the family,” Diavla observed. “And without kids, I'm not sure she would see the point.” She thought briefly of her parents, safe in Aldovarin Tree Hold. They must have gotten word of the destruction of Kilder Vald by now. I wonder if the Matriarch sent anyone to look for me? Saa, Mama, I would tell you of my turn of luck if I could.

  Varga finished dressing and drank more of her water. Her voice was quiet and rough. “Dee…thank you for last night.”

  Diavla put on a smile for her friend. “I wish I could give you more, but it's just not my nature, Varga.”

  “Your tastes run more towards Tom, don't they?”

  Diavla opened her mouth, and no words came out.

  “Thought so. I've seen how you look at him. It makes sense. I'd ride him.”

  “Varga!”

  “I would! You'll have to tell me how he is someday.”

  Diavla saddened. “Someday,” she said quietly. Then she caught herself. “I mean…” she trailed off, shaking her head, and gave up when she saw Varga's grin. She sighed. “Be careful out there, my friend.”

  Varga's face fell. “I'm really going to miss you, Dee.”

  “Same, Varga. Same.” They shared a hug, then exited the wagon.

  “Thank the weather spirits it's cloudy,” Varga groaned when they were out in the daylight.

  “Good morning, Varga,” Tom called. “Food now.”

  Varga nodded to him, then spoke to Diavla. “He really is learning Elvish fast, isn't he? I still can't get more than half a dozen words of Human.”

  “Apparently, the name of Tom's language translates as ‘Western.’ Humans have several languages, like we used to in the oldest stories.”

  “Huh. Wait, does that mean we're all the way on the western side of Durathin?!”

  “Probably not all the way, but yes, I'm afraid so.”

  They joined the others by the fire and got food. Orvan had pulled out all the stops with breakfast, sending off the other group with a feast in their bellies and tasty leftovers for the road.

  After they had eaten, Tom assisted with sorting gear and with the human-made fasteners on the packs. Diavla could see him making a real effort to be as helpful and supportive as possible. He also gave Arven a coin pouch with half of the money they had looted. “I know you (something something) humans, (something) you talk to humans, gold (something) help,” he said in Western.

  Arven weighed it in his hand thoughtfully, then poured about half of the coins out and gave them back. He looked at Diavla. “Tell him that since you're going to the city, your group is more likely to need gold than we will.” Diavla translated, and after a pause, Tom nodded and accepted the handful of coins.

  As the moment of departure approached, Varga looked downright anguished. “Dee, I hate to leave you.”

  “It's all right, I understand.”

  “I'm only going because they need me.”

  “I know.”

  “I really would like to go with you.”

  Diavla tilted her head and eyed her friend. “Varga, this isn't like you.”

  “What? Can't I worry about my friends? My kanashim?”

  Diavla blinked. Well, we did kiss, so I guess we are kanashim now. “Of course, but you're usually a lot more decisive about things.”

  Varga stood very still for a long, long moment. Finally, she said quietly, “I'll be right back.” She turned and looked around, then headed towards Arven.

  The elf in question was discussing something with Tom at the far end of the clearing. Diavla frowned. It was odd that they weren't using her or Kervan to translate. Are they talking about security, or…? Then she saw Tom hit his own chest with one fist, and he bowed to Arven, nodding. Tom looked serious, and Arven looked… mollified.

  Oh, spirits, I think I know what that was. “You better take good care of Diavla or I'll hunt you down and kill you,” or something along those lines. And Tom just took it in stride and promised. He doesn't look angry at all; he looks…impressed with Arven, maybe? Respectful, anyway. I'm glad. That could have gone badly, but Tom doesn't seem the sort to get in a claw match, despite his size.

  Once Tom walked away, Varga stepped up and had a discussion with Arven. Diavla watched out of the corner of her eye while she helped Sheema figure out how much she could reasonably carry all day long. After a few minutes, Varga gave Arven a tight hug and kissed him lightly. Then she turned and skipped back over to Diavla.

  “I'm coming with you guys!” she announced.

  “You are?” Sheema wailed in dismay.

  “Sorry, Sheema. I want to go with them to Rivermarch.”

  “Arven's all right with that?” Diavla asked.

  “He wasn't happy, but he said it was one of the most important decisions of my life and that I should go with what I really wanted.” Varga paused. “Thanks for prodding me to figure that out, Dee.” Diavla smiled as her friend hurried away.

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  Now departure was delayed again as the four still leaving repacked a bit. It was unfortunate that they couldn't take the spare ox, but Arven didn't want to try to manage the strange animal in the deep woods. Varga said her goodbyes to each of the departing elves, spending the most time huddled with Sheema. Sheema still looked disappointed, but gave Varga a big hug in the end as they wished each other luck.

  Tom was pleased to hear that Varga was coming along, of course, but mostly managed to keep his reaction muted. Diavla watched him go over to Sheema and thank her repeatedly for saving his life. He didn't try to hug her or kiss her or anything, not even on the hand. He might find her attractive, but he can keep his distance when appropriate.

  Finally, the moment came, and Arven, Brallik, Rillik and Sheema said their last goodbyes and walked deeper into the woods. Diavla kept watching as they got farther in, until they went over a small rise and disappeared from view. She sighed. Be safe, all of you.

  When she turned, Tom was looking at her. He gave her a small smile and a polite nod. “We…five…go. I wait…you are good.”

  “Thank you, Tom.”

  ° ? ? ? °

  Each of them had to drive a different wagon, even after leaving the empty one behind by the side of the road. Diavla ended up with the black cases. Varga managed to convince the sixth draft animal to come along with them so that they wouldn't have to abandon it. There was no one to spare, so it would be a long, quiet day. Conversation was not simple between rolling wagons.

  Tom took the lead with the fabric wagon, then Diavla with the cases, Kervan with the grain, Orvan with the booze, and bringing up the rear Varga with the ironwork and the extra animal.

  Diavla passed the time reciting words in Western. She was doing her best to remember everything she had learned. Tom appeared to be doing the same, as she occasionally saw him talking to himself. It didn't take much mental effort to keep the wagon going, so she had a lot of time to look at Tom from the back.

  He really is very well-built. I would have thought that so much muscle would be grotesque, but he makes it look appealing. Those big broad shoulders and thick arms… Diavla shook her head. He should be beating women off with a stick. If he's not…I suppose that's because lost love can do a lot of harm to people.

  Her soul kept wandering. I hope I'm right about him. It's clear he didn't understand how the collars work. If he had, setting us free would be a lot more impressive. Still, the way Tom looked downright offended that we would even think he wouldn't free us…I suspect he would have done it even if he had known how much power he had over us.

  Or, he's a skilled trickster and you're walking into a trap, Diavla worried.

  She had plenty of time to second-guess and third-guess herself.

  Maybe he's as good a man as he appears, but will give in to temptation later. If he had known that he could order Sheema to lie with him, he might well have done it. I'd like to think he wouldn't.

  …Is Tom a good man, or not? Everything depends on that. All I can do is try to get to know him over the next few days. Maybe I—

  Diavla's thoughts were interrupted by a sudden big lurch, and a loud cracking sound. Her wagon started to tilt backwards and to the right. “Whoa! Whoa!” As she tried to keep her balance, she heard a thump from behind her. Somewhat chaotically, everyone stopped their wagons to check on the problem. As soon as it was clear that the wagon wasn't going to move or shift any farther, Diavla turned and climbed into the back to check on the cargo.

  One of the black crates, the damaged one, had slid downslope and hit the side of the wagon bed. She wondered if they would have to shift it back in order to right the wagon, and reached out to give it an experimental tug. It wouldn't budge. She pulled a bit harder.

  The next thing she knew, she had fallen down. Her head spun for a moment. That was astoundingly clumsy of you, Diavla, she told herself. How embarrassing.

  “Diavla? You are good?” Tom called.

  He's getting good at Elvish, Diavla thought absently. She got up and moved to the front of the wagon and climbed back out onto the seat. Tom was looking at her. “I am good,” she reassured him, then winced slightly as she moved her arm.

  “Diavla? What happened?” Varga asked. Tom moved around to check the side of the wagon.

  “The wagon made a big bump, and when I went to check on the cargo I slipped and fell and hit my elbow.”

  “Nice going, injuring yourself just hours after separating from the Healer.”

  “Shut up.”

  “Wagon is no good,” Tom called. “I do. (Something) wagon is good.”

  “You busted a wheel,” Kervan reported. “Tom doesn't look too worried, though.”

  “Good. Let him deal with it, and give him help if he asks, please. I've got a headache.”

  “Dee? You all right?”

  “Aside from stupidity, I'm fine. Just need a rest.”

  “Did you hit your head?”

  “No…I don't think so, anyway.” Her memory of falling down was proving elusive. Diavla closed her eyes and pressed the heels of her hands to her forehead. “Just give me a minute.”

  She did her best to ignore everything going on around her. Kervan translated for Tom and after a while they asked her to get down from the wagon. Varga hovered near her, concern on her face.

  “I'm fine, Varga. Relax.” Diavla frowned at the redhead. “I hope you didn't imprint on me like a baby bird last night.”

  “I'm fine,” Varga insisted innocently.

  “Just…don't get your hopes up, please. I thought we were saying goodbye forever.”

  “I know. Not expecting.”

  Diavla had her doubts. “I don't want to mess up our friendship.”

  “You won't.” Varga tried to keep a calm expression for a few moments more, before confiding, “All right, you know I've wanted to kiss you like that for a very long time. But I won't mess things up. You mean too much to me.”

  That's what I'm afraid of, Diavla thought with concern, but simply nodded. Varga stopped watching her and went to observe the men working to fix the wagon. Diavla watched her go with a small frown of worry. The situation would be much simpler if she just found Varga as arousing as she did men, but she couldn't change her nature.

  I really wish that I were a lot more…zaddich.

  The Elvish word meant both attractive and lustful, and fit her longing best. Diavla winced as another wave of mild pain pulsed in her head, then faded away. When it didn't recur for a minute she sighed in relief, then walked around to see how the repairs were going.

  Tom stood at the right rear corner of the wagon, while Kervan and Orvan were holding the right rear wheel, or rather its replacement. Apparently, someone in the caravan had packed a spare. There was a moment of confusion as apparently humans counted up to warn of something. Elves counted down, which obviously made more sense. Once they had that sorted out, Kervan counted down, and Tom lifted the end of wagon, his muscles bulging.

  That's…a nice view. Prying her gaze away from Tom, she noticed Varga on the other side, grinning. Meeting her gaze, Varga wiggled her eyebrows suggestively, then went back to unashamedly ogling the human. Oh, Varga…

  Diavla had to admit, though, that this display was of a quality one didn't see every day. Tom was clearly exerting effort, but he also showed no signs of needing to stop yet, patiently waiting while the other men did something to fix the wheel. He shifted a bit and his muscles flexed. Diavla felt her mouth go dry. That is a very nice view…

  She gathered her wits as Orvan shouted and Tom carefully lowered the end of the wagon. He moved over and crouched down, inspecting the work. After poking and prodding, he nodded his approval, gathered the tools and stood up, stretching. He seemed to be testing out his body to make sure there wasn't any pain.

  They got their wagon train back into good order, and after watching the wheel work for a few moments, Tom got back onto his wagon and they resumed their travel.

  The rest of the day passed uneventfully, and Diavla got her fill of watching Tom from behind. There weren't even any messengers passing by. For all they could see, Tom could be the only human in tens of miles.

  As the sun was setting, they made camp. Diavla collected firewood; Varga tended the animals; Orvan cooked dinner; Kervan counted cargo and made tiny notes in Elvish on a piece of paper. Tom tended the fire at times and patrolled the surroundings so the elves could all eat together in peace.

  Dinner was fairly good, but not up to Orvan's usual standards. He grumbled about being unfamiliar with the ingredients, but everyone assured him that the food was still tasty and thanked him for his work.

  “Tom? Do you cook?” Diavla asked him when he next swung by. It took a bit of pantomime to get her meaning across.

  Tom shook his head vehemently. “I cook, food…” He fumbled for the word, then tugged at a lock of his hair. “Black.”

  “Black.”

  “Black, yes. I cook, food is black. No good.”

  “You are good, Tom. You fix wagon, you guard, you help.” Diavla grinned and patted him reassuringly on the arm; her hand lingered a moment as she felt his bicep. Tom glanced at her, a question on his face. Diavla tried not to blush, and covered by poking and prodding his arm more deliberately. “Sheema did good work. Do you have any pain?”

  “No pain. Thank you.” He flexed his arm carefully to show.

  Diavla noticed Varga watching with a hint of surprise on her face. What? Shut up, she thought at her friend. I'm allowed to enjoy myself. Although, I shouldn't be groping Tom without permission. He's just so… Diavla sighed, unable to find words for her thought.

  After dinner, they had a discussion in Elvish about the different scenarios that might unfold when Tom got to Rivermarch. They simply didn't know enough, which was frustrating. It would be two more days before they reached a human town on the outskirts of the city and the forest, and then one more day to the city itself.

  “Tom, which wagon will you take first?” It took a minute to figure out how to translate that, but Tom got the idea.

  “Wagon.” He pointed at the fabric wagon. “I give Mrs. Whistler wagon, no gold. (Something) I give gold. Two gold,” he added after a moment.

  Because some portion of the looted coins had belonged to the fabric merchant who died. Tom is being very considerate. Diavla paused. He probably is feeling guilty for surviving when his job was to protect the merchants. I should watch for how he reacts to that later. I can guess what some of his nightmares are about.

  Varga started getting a little loud, since she was drinking the human ale again. Her latest excuse was that the wagonload was going to be sold soon, so she should drink up while she could. Personally, I would prefer wine, she thought as she accepted a mug and a certain amount of flirting from Varga.

  As it got later, Diavla found she was drinking a bit more than she normally would, but decided that that was all right. I have been in a cage for a long time, I deserve a chance to let loose. So, she indulged. Varga had no inhibitions in that respect, and soon she was losing other inhibitions as well. She stared at Tom with a predatory gleam in her eye.

  “Hey, Tom. You want some company?” She made as if to go over to him. Diavla was alarmed and wanted to cut this off before it became a problem. If she were being honest with herself, she also felt a spike of jealousy. Looking for a way to distract Varga, Diavla reached over and kissed her.

  Maybe I shouldn't do this…but…

  Hmm…this is actually kind of good.

  “Wow,” Varga breathed when they came up for air.

  “Drink always makes you too bold,” Diavla complained half-heartedly. Kissing Varga was actually much more pleasant than she had expected. She kissed her again. Maybe the drink is helping me with this, she mused. If so, I approve. This is nice.

  Once they broke apart, the men's reactions were interesting. Orvan was faintly amused. Kervan looked grumpy and frustrated, which didn't help his attractiveness any. Tom looked fairly shocked.

  “What'sa matter, Tom? Haven't…haven't you seen women kiss before? Look at him, Dee.” Varga tried not to laugh and ended up snorting loudly instead, which caused her to laugh harder and snort even louder, amusing even Kervan with her antics.

  When Varga's hugs started to turn to groping, though, Diavla was done. “No, Varga, no more. You're drunk, so I'm not mad, but stop.”

  “I yield, I yield,” Varga grumbled, standing up. She took a deep breath and belched. “Saaaaa…Tom.” Varga went over to the log Tom was sitting on. “Give me a kiss.”

  Tom stared at her like a startled deer as she got closer. Diavla could tell he was thinking about it, but he looked at Diavla for a moment, then shook his head. “I like you. No. I no kiss you. Thank you, Varga.”

  Varga didn't look as if she were taking no for an answer. Then Tom surprised everyone. He shot to his feet, reached for Varga, and before anyone could react, he had her spun around facing away from him, riding his hip with her arms pinned.

  Diavla blinked. That's right, he said that he worked in a tavern once. He has practice dealing with unruly drunks. She smiled. He's a man of many skills. But the way he freezes with a woman sometimes…

  …No path. There's no path to a place where Tom's a virgin.

  Tom marched Varga over to her bedroll and set her down. She immediately started to get up again but Tom held her down easily with one hand on her back. Diavla felt her face heat as she watched his careful application of great strength.

  “I gotta water the dirt,” Varga complained, her voice somewhat muffled.

  “You say you are good?” Tom asked her.

  He ended up asking her four times, patiently waiting out her reactions. Finally, she yielded.

  “I am good. I am good.”

  Tom let her up, and Varga stumbled off into the bushes. Tom muttered something to himself in Western.

  Diavla stared at him for a while, but didn't speak when he looked at her questioningly. She just smiled and settled herself to sleep.

  We are the luckiest captured elves in the world.