Page 41 of Foundling

Leita turned away to unload the saddlebags packed atop Thalia. The mare met his baffled expression, flapping her lips at him in a horsey laugh.

You’ve got explaining to do, lizard, the unicorn taunted.

Attalus made a rude gesture at the mare while Leita’s back was turned. Before she could look over her shoulder to see what Thalia nickered about, Attalus bent to open the bag.

Inside, he found all manner of little comforts and luxuries. Sturdy wool trou, muslin shirts, a finely carved comb, soaps, blankets, a bedroll, an elongated pillow, little sacks of herbs, spice and salts, vials of mineral oil and tonics, a tin of salve, a small frying pan, a set of knives, rags, and a few more odds and ends.

It would’ve brought a tear to Attalus’s eye—if it didn’t make him suspicious.

These were all the things he’d need to be self-sufficient here in the cave. On his own.

After Attalus pulled out the trou, Slinky scrambled up the side of the bag and dove into the interior. Each happy squeak was quieter than the last as she delved deeper.

As Slinky played and Leita organized all the rest she’d brought with her, Attalus made a few adjustments to the trou. He cut a little incision at the middle of the back waistband to allow for his tail, making the trou loose around the hips but snug at the thighs.

Their tails were why Savrakae preferred kilts and loose robes. Or nakedness.

That, and trou didn’t sit entirely comfortably against scales.

When he found a belt near the top of the bag, Attalus was touched to think Leita had considered his predicament.

With the new pair donned, Attalus adjusted the belt and took a few lunging steps to accustom himself to the feel of fabric encasing his legs.

Why do other folk enjoy these? He’d seen humans wear them, of course, but in the warmer climes of Bargarad, many of them wore light robes.

Finally, content that the trou wouldn’t split should he move wrong, Attalus considered himself dressed. Even if it wasn’t his preferred kilt, it was a bit of a relief to be tucked away again. Although he considered himself to be of fine form, the days and especially nights here were markedly cooler.

Leita, her back to him, straightened from where she’d been crouching. Fists on her hips, she seemed to be having one of those silent conversations with the unicorn.

Attalus sidled up to her, wrapping an arm around her middle to draw her back into his body.

“I’m suitably attired, my lady. We can trade secrets now—although, I do have an amendment to our agreement.”

“We didn’t…” Leita sighed, peering over her shoulder to squint at him. “What amendment?”

“I want a kiss for every truth.”

She sputtered and elbowed him in the middle, but Attalus didn’t let go.

“That would make it unequal,” she argued, a lovely blush deepening the purple of her cheeks.

“No, I’d give you a kiss in return for every truth, too.” He positively twinkled at her while she stared at him flatly.

“This still sounds unequal.”

“You haven’t received one of my kisses yet,” he whispered at her ear.

Leita scrunched up her shoulders and began to wriggle. “Are you ever not flirting?”

“Of course. Sometimes I’m asleep.”

“Ugh.”

Laughing merrily, Attalus had mercy and released her. He bore her scowl with dignity, helping her arrange the rest of what she’d brought from town into something of a little nest for the two of them.

When Attalus laid his new bedroll alongside her blanket, Leita moved the blanket further down the wall of the cave. So Attalus followed, again putting their bedding together. They did this twice more before Leita sighed in exasperation and frowned at him.

Attalus just grinned and sat himself down on the foot of his bedroll. He patted his knee, indicating Leita should sit in his lap, but he didn’t expect her to. Which was good, because she didn’t.