The small farm houses seemed to be built of timber that had been cut down to clear an area for farming and stones dug up from the fields. Though their was still enough trees to provide shade for the small homes and to the merchants in their carts traveling along the roads. When I finally reached the walls they towered overhead. A bridge lead over a deep moat to the gate houses which where pushed back from the main wall. Guards watched from above on either side as people came and went. The guards at the gate house stopped me and made me hand over my bow and arrow and my ax having me sign my name in a book. I was a little surprised since it wasn't really a weapon per say. My stone arrows would shatter against the suit of armor the guards wore and my old ax would probably just shatter if not get stuck if it did actually make a dent. The gate house was slightly dark as I passed through and bigger then my house back home. As it gave way to light I was overwhelmed by the sites and sounds. But it was not his kisses, or the bed, that made me catch him to mewith a cry. I was forgiven. There was an urgency that had not been present the nightbefore–a need for him beyond the need for food or water. And he respondedto it, pinning me beneath him and entering in one long thrust that drew a screamfrom me, even as I writhed beneath him. I raked him with my nails, I bit. Andhe was rough, he was violent, forcing me down, catching my hands–evenstriking my face once. I exploded. And a moment later, so did he. My face was numb. My back hurt. I breathed in shallow,ragged gasps, sprawled on top of him, my head pillowed on his chest. So smallwas I–or so large he–that my whole body fit easily on his, andI curled in his arms, dazed with the pain and the pleasure of it all. How I loved him. I licked the sweat from his chest sleepily, vague memoriesof home surfacing, the shadowy recall of a place where this was a thing neverto be imagined. Where such as he was only.
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