Warsworn

pickings. "I's can fill another, if you want?"
    "That would be good." I looked around, amazed to see that the little plant was spread through the grass as far as I could see. "Two handfuls in each warrior's kit would be useful in case of injury."
    Gils quickly handed out his crop, making sure that each had at least two handfuls. Even Marcus took a supply. Gils placed his own in his saddlebags and then mounted. "I'll pass the word, Warprize. Two handfuls"
    "Tell them to dry it well, Gils." I called after him as he galloped off. "We'll see to Cadr once we stop for the night."
    Rafe mounted up as well, and Marcus headed us back toward the army at a more sedate walk.
    "Hisself will not like his warriors stopping to pick posies."
    "They all have to pass water at some point, don't they?" I pointed out. Rafe laughed, but Marcus just grunted.
    As we returned to our position in the flowing mass of warriors, Marcus was careful to thread his way back into the direct center. Rafe and Prest rode ahead of us a little ways, and Epor and Isdra faded behind us. They didn't really try to maintain any kind of position, since there were warriors all around us. I shifted, trying to get comfortable, and tried not to sigh in Marcus's ear.
    Marcus must have heard me, for he cleared his throat. "Epor meant no offense, Warprize, asking about the healing of horses."
    "I know, Marcus."
    I yawned, tired now that the excitement was over. It had been a brief change from the monotony of the days since Keir of the Cat, Warlord of the Plain, with his dark hair and flashing blue eyes, had taken me up on his horse and reclaimed me as his Warprize. I fingered the leaves that I still held in my hand. Eln would be so pleased to hear that bloodmoss thrived in this area. I could send him a plant with the next messenger, dig it up, roots and all, and wrap it in wet cloth. Even his dour face would crack with a smile at the sight. I'd laugh to see it—
    except that I wouldn't be there.
    Suddenly, it all seemed too much. A flood of sickness rose up in my body, a sickness of the heart for which there was no cure. I was all too familiar with this feeling, for I was sick for my home, for the castle and the people that I'd left behind in Water's Fall. For Anna's stew and Heath's teasing, and my old room with its four familiar stone walls. I'd lived my whole life in sight of the castle of Water's Fall, and I felt sick at the idea that I'd never see it again. I sighed, trying not to feel sorry for myself and failing.
    "You've not been yourself, Warprize." Marcus had his head turned, and I could just see his nose and lips under the hood of the cloak. His voice dropped to a low, gentle tone. "You're not eating, and I'm thinking that you're not sleeping either."
    I watched the ground pass below us. "I'm fine."
    "Are you pregnant?"
    I dropped my head onto his shoulder and groaned. "Marcus…"
    "It's a fair question." Marcus replied. "Our women take precautions in the field, but you Xyians have such strange ways…"
    "I am not pregnant." I growled. I didn't want to think about that, although he was right. I hadn't taken any precautions. My courses were due any day. But the idea of being pregnant raised issues that I didn't want to consider. Of things that Keir and I had yet to talk about.
    "Then what is wrong, Lara?"
    The fact that Marcus was using my name, a rare event, told me that he was worried. I opened my mouth, but the truth would not come. "I'm fine, Marcus. Truly." He snorted. "As you say, Warprize." He stiffened in the saddle, and I knew that I had upset him. This scarred little man had come to mean a great deal to me within a short period of time. He was fiercely loyal to his Warlord, and I was included in that loyalty. I wasn't sure that was by virtue of my own self, or the fact that I was Keir's chosen Warprize. Regardless, how could I confide my worries and fears to him? He already held Xyians in contempt on general principals. My fretful complaints could only heap wood on that fire.
    I settled for an obvious question. "When do you think we'll stop for the night?"
    "A few hours yet, Warprize. Hisself will keep us moving until we lose the light."
    "Why is he in such a hurry?"
    "Hisself has his reasons. You're to be confirmed when we reach the Heart of the Plains, and the sooner the better." Marcus's tone was a clear indication that the topic was now settled. I looked about for a different distraction, and caught a glimpse of Epor reaching over to tug on