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Home again, the lowborn confront the Lakeshore Man.
A quick glance up at the sky told her that it was already late; reluctantly, she gave her prisoner's earlobe one final nibble before releasing her grasp on the girl's body. "Get up," she said shortly. "You can wash with me this morning. Bring your clothes."
Although it was early summer, the stream that flowed through the forest was still icy cold. Tara stripped and bathed quickly. Epona hesitated on the bank, shivering, her arms wrapped around herself. The warrior gestured. "Come." The girl obeyed, wading out into the knee-deep water. "Kneel down," Tara commanded. With a shudder, Epona complied. The warrior dipped her bar of lye soap into the water and efficiently began to clean her slave's pale skin, as she would have groomed the hide of one of her horses. "Dunk your head," she said at length. "I don't want you getting lice or something. The things are murder to get rid of." Epona silently ducked her head beneath the water, and Tara washed the black locks. Then they dressed and returned to their campsite.
Without being told, Epona went at once to the fire and began to rummage through the satchel that held their food supplies. Tara grinned and nodded approvingly. Good, good. That's what I like to see. Keeps her mouth shut and does her job. She inspected her mail shirt, and then her blade; both seemed to be in good working order. The weight of the armor felt good as she buckled her belt around her waist. With a sigh of satisfaction, she sat down to watch the girl work.
Although Tara had owned a slave twice before, she couldn't recall having enjoyed them as much as she was enjoying Epona. Clytie, her first, had been a muscular, white-blond girl; Tara had bought her so that she could help carry her heavier equipment. It had worked out fairly well, although the first three or four weeks had been a bit rocky. Clytie had not been a docile slave at all. Tara had wound up having to give her three or four hard whippings before she'd finally begun to obey without a sneer. The second had been Meriel, a quiet little brunette. As soft-spoken as she was, though, Meriel had also had a stubborn streak, and it had cost Tara considerable pains to finally break it.
But this time, I've got it right. Tara smirked as she watched Epona stir the pot of cooking porridge. I don't think I'll have to break this one much at all. She already cringes and submits. Her grin widened. Yes, I think this will work out well.
Epona broke her train of thought by approaching with her breakfast. The warrior ate with some appreciation. When she'd emptied her bowl, she eyed the slave for a moment. "Good work," she said calmly. "And I'm glad I didn't have to tell you what to do." Epona bowed her head quietly. "If there's any porridge left, you can eat before you pack everything up." The smaller girl nodded and turned to obey. Tara went to take care of the horse.
The beast seemed happy enough; there was still enough thick grass around him that Tara judged she wouldn't have to graze him before they left. She led him down to the brook to drink, and then brought him back to the road to hitch him to the cart. The slave had already finished most of the packing. Tara eyed her as she buckled the straps of the horse's harness. "How'd you like to ride with me today, instead of being tied up behind?" she said. Epona looked at her uncertainly before nodding. "Good. Saves me the trouble of having to check on you all the time." Tara turned back to her work. "There's a feedbag in the cart somewhere. Go fill it with as much grass as you can, in case we can't find good pasture for this fellow later."
It didn't take long for the work to be done. The quiet captive returned in a few minutes with a full bag, which she put in the back of the cart. Then she tentatively moved closer to where Tara was rubbing the horse down. The warrior looked at her out of the corner of her eye. "Does he have a name?" Epona murmured, timidly brushing her palm against the beast's haunch.
Tara raised a brow. "No. He doesn't."