She knew where she was going, hoped her man would be there waiting, though he probably wouldn’t be. To many guards these days, watching too close for a man to pass as a woman, for anyone without taking note of who they were and when they passed. Oh, aye, but she needed to see him, to celebrate, excitement running high in her veins, between her legs. She had killed the child, probably the mother too. There had been so much blood. Och, and the Bold, poor thing, was in torment. She bit back a laugh, afraid of the echo, and rounded a corner into the body of a man whose smell she knew oh so well. Her man. “Did you bring food?” He whispered into her ear causing her to heat even more. “In the basket.” She lifted her arm, showing the large woven basket she carried, holding up a candle in the other hand so he could see. “But I’m hungry too.” She offered. He looked over his shoulder. The darkness shifted, revealing at least three more men. “Me first?” He asked then turned away to pull a hunk of cheese from beneath the cloth that covered her wares.
