It had been a very comfortable day, Tara thought contentedly, letting a yawn expand her ribs. She was sitting propped up against some pillows and the headboard, dressed only in her short leather breeches. Epona was lying on top of her, between her knees, with her dark head resting against her chest. Her eyes were closed; she seemed to be dozing. Tara smirked. Her fingers drifted up to toy with a few stray curls until the moss-green eyes opened again. "Comfy?" the warrior asked mildly.

"Yes, ma'am," Epona murmured.

"Need more salve on that burn?" Tara asked.

Epona shook her head. "It's good. It stings a bit, but it's all right." There was silence for a while. Tara felt small fingers trail gently up and down her side. "Are you going to go with that woman, ma'am?"

"Maybe," the warrior said lazily. "Drea and I go way back. She's the one who gave me my first Argonian sword." She reached over to the bedside table for her pipe. The room was already hazy with fragrant smoke, Tara noted. She blew out another cloud of it with a deep sigh of satisfaction. "You know, I was about your age during our heyday together," she said, grinning at the recollection. "We were both insane. The messes we got into together! Heh."

Curious eyes flicked up to Tara's. "Like what?"

Tara raised a brow, and then roughly ruffled Epona's hair. "You want to hear war stories, is that it? Do I look like a bard to you?" The slave winced and shrank away visibly. Tara chuckled. "I'm not much of a storyteller. Drea and I, though – we were crazy. I remember one time we sneaked away from camp to try to pull a raid by ourselves. We hit what we thought was a little merchant caravan. Turned out it was some nobleman's retinue, guarded by at least a dozen soldiers! We only just got away with our hides intact. I got a souvenir." Tara tapped a ragged scar that ran over the top of her right shoulder. "One of them pegged me with a crossbow. Went right under my shoulder plate. It was a good thing I wore a mail shirt underneath, or I'd have been dead right there."

Epona ran the tips of her fingers over the scar. Her eyes were round with amazement. "You're very brave," she said softly.

"That wasn't courage. That was stupidity." Tara grinned nevertheless. "I guess I haven't really changed all that much since then. I'm a bit smarter in the kinds of risks I take, but…there's just something about battle, somehow. I just suddenly forget all my aches and pains, and all the horrors of war, and I start laughing, and…ah." She breathed a deep sigh. "I just feel like a force of nature, or a goddess. It's as if the Morrigan really did take my blood."

The slave looked up in puzzlement. "Who took your what?"

"The Morrigan," Tara repeated calmly. "She's the goddess of war in Gaelis." She took another breath of smoke. "I was always a fighter, little mouse. I joined the army when I was fifteen years old, but I got kicked out three months later for being a discipline problem. That's when I decided to come to Argonia. I'd heard a fighter with a sword could find easy work here." Tara set her pipe down carefully. "Before I left, though, I figured I could use all the help I could get. There's this mountain near the town where I grew up, and on top of it is a ring of stones. There's some priestesses up there. The place is dedicated to the Morrigan."

"A temple." Epona's delicate fingers were still tracing the outline of the scar on the warrior's shoulder. Tara decided it was an agreeable sensation.

"No. Temples are an Argonian thing. –Well, and Romusi. Gaels are different." Tara noted the curve of Epona's jaw. She lazily drew her thumb along it, enjoying the smooth texture of her skin. "We have sacred trees, stones, hills – things like that."

"Oh." A faint blush colored the slave's cheek at the intensity of Tara's gaze. She looked down, shivering as the warrior's hand trailed down the side of her neck and along the sharp line of her collarbone.

"Anyway, I went up there and told them I wanted to pledge my life and my sword to the Morrigan," Tara murmured. "They did this big long ritual with fire and water and things, and then they cut my hand and let it bleed over a sacred stone." She displayed a paper-thin scar across the palm of her right hand. Small fingers curiously investigated it. "They told me that I already carried the Morrigan's birthright, and now I truly belonged to her. I wound up staying there for a couple of days. Got my tattoo from one of the priestesses."

Epona traced the blue mark on the side of Tara's neck. "It's a bird."

"A raven," the warrior confirmed. "Sacred bird of the goddess. They eat the bodies after a battle's over, you know." Epona shuddered deeply, and Tara smirked. Little frightened mouse. "So that's what I mean about the blood."

The slave chewed her lip thoughtfully. "We have warlords here in Argonia," she said softly. "They're disciples of Ares. They say he can possess them in battle, and that's why they're so strong and deadly." Her slender hands brushed the muscles that rippled like steel ropes across Tara's arm. "Are you like that?"

"Hm. Maybe." Tara shrugged, watching the slave's hands with idle enjoyment. "I don't exactly worship the Morrigan or anything. I don't pray to her. But every time I fight, I'm kind of fulfilling my vows to her. And I don't really know what being possessed feels like, so who knows? Maybe she does possess me in battle." She leaned back as Epona's fingers began to explore the hard lines of her abs. "You seem to be losing some of your shyness," she remarked.

Epona stopped abruptly and blushed to the roots of her hair. "I'm sorry, ma'am," she said humbly. "Please don't be angry! I didn't mean…"

"I didn't say I didn't like it." Tara shot her a rakish grin. The slave blushed harder, and buried her face into the pillow. The warrior chuckled and drew the quilt up to cover more of Epona's bare skin.

After a moment, the slave girl seemed to recover some of her lost composure. She peeped out of the pillow. "What…please, ma'am, what will you do with me if you do go with those people?"

"Bring you along, of course," Tara said lightly. "You'd be one of the camp followers. We have people to cook and things, and bring us supplies on the battlefield. That kind of thing. And I'm certainly not the only mercenary ever to have a slave." She rubbed Epona's naked back idly. "So tell me something," she said. "You say you were a noble's daughter, but you seem to be adjusting to being my slave pretty easily. Why is that?"

The girl looked at her out of the corner of her eye. She seemed to be choosing her words carefully. "I guess it's not all that different from what I would have been doing, anyway," Epona said finally. Her voice was very quiet. "I'd have been married off to some man I'd never met, and I'd be cooking and cleaning for him. I'd have had to sleep with him whether I wanted to or not. It isn't so very different with you, ma'am…except that you're a woman, of course. And that my family's dead."

Tara nodded thoughtfully. "That's probably true." She slid her palm down from Epona's shoulders to the small of her back. I'd like to take her again, she thought, glancing at the window. The sun was setting; Tara sighed. No. No time now. It'll have to wait. "I think it's about time for supper," she said out loud. "Put your clothes on – we're going downstairs to eat. I have to talk to Drea, anyway." Epona bowed her head and did as she was told. Tara dressed herself in full armor. She strapped her sword to her side, and then paused to eye her shield. Nah – no need for it. She turned to the door, glancing toward the boyish figure of her slave. "Come," she said shortly, and headed down the stairs.

It wasn't hard to spot the mercenaries; their party took up nearly a third of the inn's pub. Tara calmly made her way to an empty table on the opposite side of the tavern, and then flagged down a barmaid. "Supper and ale for two," she said. Epona quietly slipped into an empty seat. Tara grinned and pulled up a chair for herself.

As Tara had expected, there was soon movement over at the mercenaries' tables. Drea and their supper arrived at the same time. The dark-skinned warrior straddled a chair in a businesslike manner, folding her arms over the back of it. "Hey, Terror. Enjoying your stay so far?"

"Fair," Tara said, coolly meeting Drea's gaze for a moment. Then she took a leisurely bite of the bread and cheese the barmaid had brought her. "Soft bed, decent food, cold ale. Not bad for a change every now and then."

"I know the feeling." The smaller warrior shifted in her seat, seemingly waiting for something. Tara merely gave her a mild look and resumed eating her supper. Drea finally sighed impatiently. "Well? Have you given any thought to coming with us?"

Tara took a long sip of ale. "I've thought a bit." She glanced over at Epona, who was listening in silence. "You can eat, you know." The slave looked a bit startled; she quickly began to nibble on her supper. Tara hid a smile.

"And…?" Drea prompted.

"And I'd like to know exactly what the plan is. You know – my position, what you'd expect of me – that sort of thing." The redhead rested her chin on her hand.

Drea nodded. "Oh. Right. Of course." She scratched her nose awkwardly. "Well, it's like this. See, I'm sort of leading this outfit, so I can bring you in if I like, but…well, you being who you are, I can't just bring you in as muscle. Waste of your potential, and all. I'd more or less be bringing you on with an eye toward making you my second. Not right away, of course, but you'd be in some kind of leadership role."

"I thought as much." Tara ate a few more placid mouthfuls. "So I'll have to do the standard beat-and-intimidate thing right off the bat, to get their respect. And you'll want my help with organizing and strategy and whatnot, right?"

"That's right," Drea said.

"I see." The larger woman sat back in her chair until it creaked under the strain. She took a long, deliberate drink from her mug before catching Drea's eyes with her own. "If that's the case, I want more than a twelfth of the take. I want a tenth, plus my choice of any weapons, armor or horses we capture."

Drea hesitated for a moment. "Done," she said flatly. "You're worth it."

Tara grinned and stuck out her hand. "Then you've got yourself a redheaded second-in-command."

"Wonderful!" Drea clasped her forearm and returned the grin. "I'll go and warn the boys. Welcome to the team, you old warhorse. I'm looking forward to riding with you again."

Tara was well pleased. She shot her slave girl a smirk as Drea headed back across the tavern. "This'll be fun," she said. "I haven't had a good rough-and-tumble, teach-'em-who's-boss role in years." Epona nodded wordlessly. Her moss-green eyes were wide and anxious. "Oh, relax," Tara said with a grin. "I can take on that bunch, no problems." With that, she returned her attention to her supper. The slave quietly followed suit.

It really had been a long time since she had led a group of fighters. Tara had to admit that she really was looking forward to it. She sipped her ale and let herself dream of the days when she had traveled with Drea. Her lips curved upward. Yes, this'll be good. I think I'm actually looking forward to it.