I Stopped Simping and the Heroines Lost Their Minds

Arthur woke to the sound of crashing wood and someone yelling in the lodge kitchen downstairs.

He pulled on his shirt and boots, heading down the stairs expecting a fight.

Instead, Hati had forced his massive head and front shoulders completely through the kitchen doorway. A cook was bracing a broom handle against the wolf’s snout, straining to shove the massive beast backward while a spilled basket of root vegetables rolled across the floorboards.

Derren leaned against the main counter a few feet away, eating a piece of bread and watching the struggle.

Arthur stopped at the bottom of the stairs. Hati’s ears swiveled. The wolf immediately abandoned the kitchen, backing out of the doorframe, and trotted toward Arthur.

”No,” Arthur said.

Hati kept coming.

Arthur pointed toward the open main doors. ”Outside.”

Hati sniffed Arthur’s empty hands, lost interest, and shoved his snout directly toward the plate Derren had just set on the counter. Derren snatched the food away and backed up against the wall.

Rhea walked through the front doors carrying a heavy clay water jar. She took one look at the standoff and started laughing.

”Control your wolf,” Arthur told her.

”He never followed people into buildings for food until you fed him,” Rhea pointed out.

The cook tossed a heavy scrap of raw meat across the floor toward the exit. Hati snapped it out of the air and trotted outside to eat it.

Rhea set the water jar near the kitchen frame. She grabbed the front of Arthur’s shirt on her way past, pulling him in for a quick, hard kiss. Arthur’s hand dropped naturally to her waist, his fingers pressing into her leather armor. Rhea broke the kiss, grabbed a second empty jar from a nearby table, and headed right back toward the door.

Arthur watched her walk away. Rhea glanced over her shoulder, caught him looking, and kept walking.

Arthur grabbed a plate of food and found a seat. Mara sat a few chairs down, talking quietly with Garr. Lysa walked through the doors a minute later, setting another water jar on the table.

Mara unstoppered the jar and smelled it. ”The eastern water is getting better. The taint is fading. The sick hunters are keeping their food down this morning.”

Garr leaned on his spear. ”I want fresh water from the smaller springs before we open the eastern pump again.”

Derren stared intently at his bread, chewing slowly.

”You’re going,” Garr told him.

Arthur finished his eggs and took the empty jars from Lysa.

Derren reached for one.

Arthur moved it out of reach. ”I’ve seen you sober. No.”

Derren gave him a tired look and took the padded carrying bag instead.

Rhea came back from the pump, picked up two jars, and Lysa slung her spear over one shoulder.

They headed out together.

Two men were replacing a splintered timber on one of the animal pens. A group of children chased a stray chicken near the storehouses. Hunters sat on their porches restringing bows and sharpening blades instead of packing for another search party. A merchant had reopened a stall near the gates, loudly complaining to anyone who would listen that the western well was too crowded.

Someone had dragged a stool into the sun beside the reopened stall, and an old hunter was already arguing with the merchant over prices.

They walked into the eastern woods. At the first small stream, Lysa waded into the shallows to fill the jars while Derren stood on the bank holding the corks.

Rhea stood beside Arthur, tearing off pieces of dried meat from her rations. Arthur reached over and took a piece directly out of her hand.

Rhea smacked his fingers.

Arthur stole another piece anyway and ate it.

While they waited at the next pool, Rhea leaned back against Arthur and continued eating.

Arthur slipped an arm around her waist and kept talking to Derren about the guild work in Lornfell.

At the third spring, they found a set of fresh deer tracks pressed into the mud, leading directly to the water’s edge.

A small, badger-like creature picked its way through the roots on the opposite bank. Everyone stopped talking. They watched the animal lower its head, drink deeply from the current, and scurry back into the brush.

”That’s better,” Arthur said.

Lysa drove the cork into the jar. ”Much.”

Derren packed the full jars into his padded bag. He had two, and Rhea carried the third. The last spring was farther uphill, and they only needed one more jar.

Lysa pointed down the trail. ”Take those back to Mara.”

Rhea and Derren headed back toward the settlement. Arthur carried the last empty jar, following Lysa up the rocky incline toward the upper spring.

Lysa pushed a low branch aside as they climbed. ”You heading back soon?”

”Probably tomorrow or the day after. I need Elena to look at what I pulled out of the cistern.”

”Back to Lornfell, then.”

Arthur ducked beneath the branch. ”Assuming nothing else tries to kill me before I leave.”

Lysa laughed once. ”You do seem to collect trouble.”

They climbed a little farther before Arthur asked, ”You always lived here?”

”Mostly. I spent a few years hunting farther west when I was younger. Saw some of the trade towns, stayed away for months at a time.” She stepped across a washed-out section of trail. ”Eventually I got tired of sleeping under other people’s roofs.”

”So you came back.”

”Yeah.”

At the upper spring, Lysa crouched on the flat stones and lowered the jar into the water.

Arthur’s gaze dropped to her ass.

She noticed when she stood and handed him the dripping jar.

”Do you always stare like that?”

Arthur took the jar. ”Usually.”

Lysa shook her head. ”At least you’re consistent.”

She started down the trail, and by the time they reached the lower path they were talking about Whisperwind and the bows used around Rauk Hollow.

Mara had the jars lined along a bench outside the clinic when they returned. She dropped a pinch of pale blue powder into each one and waited.

The western water stayed clear. The eastern jars clouded slightly, while the one taken nearest the cistern darkened almost at once.

Garr picked up the blackened jar, looked at it, then set it down again. ”Eastern pump stays closed.”

A man passing with an empty bucket groaned. ”Another day?”

Garr pointed toward the jar.

The man took another look at it and continued toward the western well.

Mara picked up her medical kit. ”Bring the wolf.”

Hati hated the clinic. He backed away, baring his teeth at the smell of the medicine. Arthur walked over, grabbed the thick fur on either side of Hati’s neck, and held his massive head still.

”Why me?” Arthur asked.

Mara stepped close, inspecting the dark veins on the wolf’s neck. ”He listens to you.”

Hati let out a complaining whine and leaned his entire, crushing weight against Arthur’s legs. Arthur stumbled, bracing his boots against the dirt to keep from falling over.

Rhea laughed from the porch of the lodge.

The dark veins were still there, but they hadn’t spread any farther. A few of the thinner marks near Hati’s jaw were already harder to see.

”Better,” Mara said.

Mara brushed a clump of wolf hair from Arthur’s shirt, caught his chin, and kissed him.

Arthur’s hand settled on her hip.

Mara slapped it away without even looking, picked up her kit, and called the next hunter over.

Arthur ended up near the practice yard with Whisperwind across his knees and the Necrotic Dagger beside him.

He cleaned the last of the dried mud from the dagger, checked the bowstring, and had enough time afterward to do absolutely nothing with either of them.

Hati wandered over and dropped across Arthur’s boots with a heavy sigh.

Hunters passed on their way between the lodge and the practice yard. A few nodded to Arthur. Someone nearby argued about an arrowhead. Nobody came looking for him.

Eventually Rhea wandered over and sat beside him on the timber stack, close enough that their legs touched.

”When are you leaving?” she asked.

”Tomorrow or the day after.”

Rhea nodded once. She reached over, took a piece of dried fruit out of his open ration pouch, and ate it.

Rhea’s tail lay across Arthur’s lap while she watched the archers in the yard. Arthur ran his fingers through the fur and slowly worked his way toward the base.

The moment he reached the sensitive spot, last night came rushing back.

Rhea caught his wrist.

Arthur looked at her.

She pressed his hand against the spot herself, making his eyebrows rise, then moved it back onto his knee.

”Later.”

The lodge filled up completely by evening. The recovered hunters occupied a large table near the fire, drinking heavily. Halden sat outside on the porch with his leg propped up, trading stories with the perimeter guards.

Arthur squeezed into a messy, crowded table with Derren, Torr, and Kara. Rhea sat beside him for a while, then moved across the room to talk with her mother. Mara passed through, grabbing a drink before heading back to the clinic.

Torr slammed his cup down, explaining Hati’s morning raid on the kitchen. ”Took the whole haunch of meat and nearly took the cook’s hand with it.”

”None of you were even outside,” Arthur pointed out.

Torr ignored him and kept telling the story.

Arthur gathered some empty cups and carried them toward the kitchen, where Lysa was stacking dirty plates beside the wash basin.

”You heading out tomorrow?” she asked.

”Probably.”

Lysa took the cups from him and added them to the pile. ”Could’ve used you around here a little longer.”

She picked up the stack and carried it into the kitchen.

Kara yelled from the table for another pitcher of ale before Arthur could follow, so he headed back for the drinks.

He had barely reached the landing when Rhea caught his shirt and pushed him against the wall.

She kissed him hard, one hand sliding into his hair. Arthur pulled her against him and grabbed her ass, squeezing while her teeth caught his lower lip.

His hand started moving lower.

Rhea caught his wrist.

”Tomorrow,” she said. ”Early patrol.”

Arthur pulled her in for another kiss before letting her go.

Rhea headed back downstairs.

Hati was lying beside the bottom step, staring up at him.

Arthur looked at the wolf. ”Don’t.”

Hati closed his eyes.