The weather had a soft feel to it. Dry and warm but with that hint of coming rain. I nudged the hip lying next to me.“Woman,” I said.“Unh.” She batted at me.Another nudge ... a little more forceful this time.“UNH!” She said. “What?”“Woman, go close the flaps,” I commanded. “It’s going to rain.”She staggered up and headed for the door.I heard the two poles slide across the cover and neighbors asking.“What’s going on?”“HE says it’s going to rain.”A flurry of activity ... more flaps closing. A few thuds of rock on wood as anchor rope pegs were tightened. The village was preparing for a storm.Stamping and hooves running together in the distance.The door skin slid away and she backed in. A fine teen buttock gleamed.“And make up the fire,” I said.“Did you release my pony?”The nearly nude girl turned and nodded ... Definitely NOT Cora. On my other side a figure sat up ... the robe slid off erect pointed nipples. Round full breasts with no hint of sag ... not Cora either.Hmm An improvement. "Among the corps of wagging tongues, she is the scarlet whore of Babylon, the quail of the ball." I thought, but, well, she said that, she told me she was his daughter." I spat into the dust and wondered if I was a fool."Did she feed you the prisoner story or the cruel father tale?"A bit of both I suppose." She's wonderful isn't she, and she's only sixteen they tell me. I did see her once this week, from a distance, at headquarters just the other day. She glowed but somehow reminded me of a hussy I once knew when I was a boy. The story is that Forbes bought her when she was twelve, privately, down at Fells Point, indentured but I don't believe transported. She's a white slave, if you will, perhaps a Hellbore graduate of some sort. There are various versions. No one knows what he paid for her and what she was capable of even then. He's married her somehow, up the Hudson where he has some influence, but he still holds her contract, until she's twenty-one, an apprentice, if you will..
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