Eudora

The first day in the grove had been utilized for rest. They had moved about sluggishly while creating their camp and had retired to their beds far earlier than would be expected of a group of established warriors such as themselves. But by the gods that Eudora did not believe in, had they needed it.

Once the dawn broke, the women dragged themselves up groggily, stretching and groaning in between greetings. The morning air was crisp as the water of the nearby stream.

Over their measly breakfast of foraged berries and a bitter tea that been boiled with the roots of a plant Eudora could not differentiate from any other they came across, they agreed to stay two full days and two nights longer. They would leave just before first light of the fourth day. There was no bravado between them; every woman in the circle was utterly exhausted and they were not afraid to admit it. Magali appeared the worst for wear but anyone who knew Lowri could tell she had lost her usual youthful vigour.

Matilde appeared the least affected, but then she always had. The wash of nostalgic aching that had hit Eudora after watching Matilde save her youngest’s life was powerful. It stirred something deep inside of her that she did not want to think about. But that was not how the mind worked. It dredged up a reminder of Eudora’s favourite qualities in her once-lover: her bravery and strength and loyalty. She shooed the intrusive thoughts away, she could not allow herself to slip into her younger naivety. Instead, she used all her willpower to keep her eyes from roaming to Matilde when it was unnecessary, to put a fair distance between their bodies physically and emotionally.

The day passed swiftly, spent collecting wood, berries, and roots, catching fish, and washing the dirtiest of their items in the stream.

Usually when Eudora was in a larger group, they slept in staggered shifts so that someone was always keeping watch, but the babble of the stream and the easy sway of the trees around them soothed her. The grove had an aura of peace that sunk deep into her bones with every breath of the clean air. Now only she and Matilde remained sat beside the fire. A warmth was brewing between their bodies and it was not fuelled by the low-burning fire. Had watching Matilde’s act of heroism truly aroused her to such effect? Apparently so.

Their first time together, Dora had been a trembling mess and Matilde had been her teacher, guiding her through what to do and how to do it. But the most important lesson she learned from her mentor had been how to simply relax and allow herself to sink into the pleasure. She had not lain with another woman since Matilde, her first and only lover.

Matilde shifted in a barely noticeable act of adjustment, but Eudora’s heightened awareness of her brought her gaze instantly to the older woman’s body. She turned, the flickering flames reflected upon her glossy eyes, and stared back at Eudora with an intensity to match the fire. Both held tense poses, their bodies rigid and their eyes locked onto one another. Matilde’s hand struck like a vicious snake, snatching at the collar of Dora’s under-shirt, and dragging her across the log they sat upon. She was between the older woman’s thighs in an instant, a hand at her throat and another at the small of her back. Matilde pressed a rough kiss to her startled lips, half-parted in preparation to scold her fellow leader.

A rush of nostalgia and warmth accompanied Matilde’s kiss, flooding Eudora’s mouth and overflowing into the rest of her skull. The hands were firm, reliable and familiar, and she did not push her away. She did not even attempt to. Eudora kissed her back fiercely, convincing herself more and more with every dart of her tongue into Matilde’s mouth that it was fine to enjoy herself for one night. As long as it was only one night, she was fine. Women had needs and hers had not been met for a very long time. Matilde’s teeth grabbed her lip and she whined softly; she had forgotten how intoxicating the thrill of a strong woman, of being handled roughly but passionately, could be. She allowed herself to be taken over by Matilde’s forceful ministrations.

There were no witnesses awake or present to catch them falling into Matilde’s tent that night, limbs wrapped around each other so tightly they had become a three-legged, one-armed creature with two heads.

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It was not logical that Eudora felt so refreshed, so energised, so filled with vigour, from a night of panting and sweating and clutching at her mouth. They had been at it for hours, far longer than they had ever lasted when they were a couple. And yet, there was something in Matilde’s controlling nature, in her reliable but rough movements, that relaxed Eudora. She wondered if perhaps leadership had been draining her, that a few hours spent without responsibility and authority had allowed her enough respite to recharge her energies.

With a high-toned hum she stretched her arms above her head and rolled over, almost knocking her forehead against Matilde’s in the process. The older woman was watching her, a sad look in her eyes. Eudora stared back, curious. Bird chirps and whistles filled the air along with the predictable trickling of the nearby stream. A blanket of tranquillity had fallen heavily upon their camp and Eudora was quite content to snuggle beneath it for at least a few more minutes.

“Everyone get the fuck up. Now!” screeched a female voice that Eudora did not recognise. Her body leapt up without a thought, pulling on her discarded underclothes and leather boots with flailing fingers. Once she had at the very least covered her delicates and feet, she found herself crushed against Matilde’s side as they both attempted to burst out of the small tent entrance at the same time.

Once they broke free of the warm tent, a wild scene unfolded before them: men and women in dark brown and black leather surrounded the camp, closing in on them swiftly with a variety of weapons drawn. Dani stood, fully dressed with crossbow drawn, in the centre of the chaos and was already firing off bolts at the closest attackers. Kali was swinging her spear viciously in nothing but a loose cream blouse and her underwear; three men were attempting to approach her but she was keeping them at bay; Lowri charged past in her nightdress with mace and shield held aloft, and Blaire’s fluffy head stumbled out of her bedding with sword dragging along the ground in her struggle to pull on her cotton leggings. Matilde and Eudora exchanged the briefest of glances before swiping their own weapons from the ground and joining the fight.