He was hampered by groups of nomads, gathering and talking, whispering and pointing. Judd had to go around them, not knowing the words for ‘excuse me’ and not daring to offend any of them. He skirted the back of the gathering, puzzled.

  “Something we don’t know about?” He asked Caste.

  “I have no idea.”

  “Psst, Judd!” Giordi gestured for him to come closer. “You’ve got to see this!”

  Judd jogged to where Giordi was standing. “Is that…Aalis?”

  She was dressed in an ivory gown with layers and layers of skirt so that every time she took a step, the hems rippled and surged, providing a peek at the boots beneath. There was embroidery on many of the layers and on the bodice, her little waist cinched with a dark grey, plaited belt with a gold circular buckle holding it in place. The buckle looked like it had the depiction of a rider on a horse engraved into its fa?ade. The sleeves of the gown were many layers as well yet for all the elaborate layers, Aalis would have been freezing if not for the dark grey and ivory fur mantle wrapped around her shoulders, longer on one side than the other and held in place with a chain across her chest. She had a shawl over her dreadlocks in slate grey which had been arranged around her neck, almost as part of the gown itself, ivory tassels along its hems, providing a fringe for her lavender eyes to peek out from underneath, lined with kohl like the nomadic women liked to do.

  She was standing with Nieves, the chieftain’s wife, thanking her though it was clear she felt awkward and exposed. It was unavoidable really. The presence of one so elegantly attired had drawn the attention of the entire clan. She clutched at the mantle with one hand, picking up her hem with the other, crossing the empty space that no one had dared enter…

  …until Judd found himself drifting close to her, bedazzled and amazed.

  “Judd,” Aalis stammered, “Nieves…she wanted to give me a gift…as a thank you for saving her son.” She swallowed, trembling. “It seems sons are held in high regard…and the boy is Chief Bear’s only one.” Judd gaped at her. Aalis licked her lips. “Say something…” She urged in a desperate whisper.

  “Beautiful.” He blurted quite loudly. “You…you look…beautiful.”

  Aalis’ eyes darted about. “Everyone is staring at me…”

  Judd blinked, suddenly recalling just how uncomfortable Aalis was with attention. “Allow me,” he said valiantly, sliding up beside her, offering his arm, “to walk you to your door.”

  She gave a small, nervous smile and clung tightly to him, crossing the campsite to where Yolana and Emeri were waiting with delighted smiles. Judd let Aalis go once she was in their company and they escorted her to the tent where she disappeared hastily inside.

  From a ways behind him, Giordi chuckled, shaking his head. “Enamoured…”

  “I’m confused.” Suvau remarked from nearby. “When I first observed them together, I thought Aalis and Judd were obvious.”

  “Obviously.”

  “But in our home, it was Aalis and Verne who shared a room.”

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  “True.”

  “Yet now…” Suvau looked at Giordi quizzically. “Am I missing something?”

  “So many things yet nothing I can say.” Giordi smacked his arm as Judd approached. “Don’t worry about it, Suvau, you’re not the only one who’s confused.” He waved his hand in front of Judd’s face. “Hey! Terra to LaMogre!”

  “Huh?” Judd cleared his throat. “What?”

  “Could you be any more smitten?”

  Judd grimaced. “I know, I know…argh…what’s wrong with me?”

  Suvau looked at Giordi who shrugged in return then paused. “Don’t look now, Suvau, but that young man over there appears to be getting up the nomad courage to challenge you.”

  Suvau sighed and glanced in the nomad’s direction. He was a striking young man with tawny brown/black dreadlocks and piercing eyes. He was staring at them intently, an older woman, possibly his grandmother, chattering in his ear, pointing at their small huddle.

  Suvau frowned, following the direction of the woman’s finger. “I’m not sure it’s me…”

  The young man took the reins of a dark brown stallion with shaggy black mane and tail and led it across the space between them, his object becoming obvious even though his target was oblivious right up until the young man stopped in front of him and struck his chest, speaking sharply at Judd.

  “Uh…what?” Judd looked around for Caste who was nowhere to be found. “I don’t understand.” The man repeated what he’d said, pointing at the tent then at himself, thrusting the reins into Judd’s hand. “Are you giving me a horse?” Judd eyed the grim mount that reminded him of Suvau’s glare. “It’s too much. Thank you…but I couldn’t possibly…”

  “You might offend him.” Giordi ground out from between his gritted teeth.

  “I haven’t done anything to warrant this.” Judd returned snappily. “Where the Maul is Caste?”

  “What is it?” Caste appeared and Judd nearly pounced on him. “What’s with the horse?”

  “This fellow is trying to give me this horse.” Judd explained. “He keeps pointing at the tent…and now he’s jiggling his dreadlocks and pointing at the tent again…”

  Caste sighed and asked in broken ancient Terra for the young man to repeat himself. He did so and even Judd could tell he was becoming more and more insistent.

  “Oh…”

  “Well?” Judd asked, Caste grimacing. “What’s this all about?”

  “It’s…an exchange.” Caste cleared his throat. “He wants Aalis to be his bride.” Judd, Suvau and Giordi’s jaws all flopped open. “He seems to be under the impression that you’re the man to ask…”

  Judd looked at the man, then at Caste, back at the man, stammering and blundering. “But…he…she…no…”

  “No?” The young man repeated, confused but slightly irritated.

  “Nay,” Caste shook his head, “Aalis naeshaewon eower faemne.”

  The young man looked back at his grandmother who waved her gnarled hands at him, chittering. He turned to Judd and spoke again.

  “It seems his grandmother already asked Aalis and she said she was taken.”

  “Taken?”

  Caste spoke rapidly to himself, muttering quickly. “I think this might have been one of those ‘lost in translation’ crisis I’ve been worried about. When Aalis said she was ‘taken’, his grandmother thinks that you’re the one to give her away.”

  “But she’s not mine.”

  “Hush,” Suvau muttered softly, “if he understands that he might think he can take her without permission.”

  “You mean…I have to…” Judd closed his eyes. “Where’s bloody Verne…I’m sorry,” he said to the young man, “Aalis nay you. Aalis gese Judd.” His expression firmed and he called over his grandmother, handing her the reins. By the way he did not back down, Judd suspected the ordeal was far from over. The young man struck his chest, speaking gruffly then turned around to get the approval of the nomads who had gathered to watch the drama.

  “What is he doing?” Judd demanded.

  “Challenging you.” Suvau said with great authority. “After four days of it, I know a challenge when I hear one.”

  “Me…fight him?”

  “For Aalis.” Caste beamed with irritating superiority. “Bet you’re wishing we left when I said to.”

  “Not helpful.” Judd looked at Suvau. “Any chance he’s a pudding sack?”

  “Nomads don’t do pudding sacks. Even the ale soaked nomads are fearsome in the ring.” Suvau put his hand heavily on Judd’s shoulder. “Looks like it’s going to be a fist fight. Keep your guard up, watch his eyes, not his hands and don’t drop.”

  Judd groaned and closed his eyes. “Guard up, watch his eyes…don’t drop. Guard up, watch eyes, don’t drop.”

  “Judd, open your bloody eyes!”