Page 17 of Torin and His Oath (Torin and the Princess #2)

Dude’s head emerged from the saddlebag, ears flat, whiskers twitching, looking upset to be awakened. Torin said, “I ken, cat, but ye ought tae handle yer business quick, we must get on the road again.”

I put out my palm. “I need the balm, my arse is chafed.”

He chuckled, dug out the little pot, and pressed it into my hand.

“You ought not chuckle, Torin, this is not funny.” I stalked behind a bush, “There are a great many indignities, traveling this way, in this time.”

His voice came back, sounding amused, “Aye, tis true. That’s why we laugh, Princess, else we would spend all our days bemoanin’ and not goin’ anywhere at all.”

I lowered my panties, crouched, and pissed, and spent a moment really thinking about trying to take a poop, really really thinking about it — but nothing. I sighed and stood up, smeared some balm on my thighs, adjusted the cloak and plaid, and returned to the horses.

Torin passed me a hunk of bread and some dried meat. I chewed and chewed and chewed. “This is so dry! Why’s all the bread have to be so dry? What have we got to drink?”

He said, “Ye can drink from the stream.”

“Oh.” I looked over at the rushing water. “Like… out of my hands? ” I turned my hands over, they were brown with filth. “The problem is my hands are dirty and how do you even know the water is clean?”

“Tis clean, that is clear rushin’ water, straight from the hill. When ye put yer hands in the stream they will be clean. Yer problem inna a problem, Princess, ye just hae tae look.”

I frowned, crossing to a rock beside the cascade. I dipped my hands in.

“Cold!” I gasped. The water was ice, biting my skin. I rubbed fast, scrubbing dirt away, then cupped my hands and lifted them to drink.

I filled them again, then did it again, water dripping from my chin, I sat back on the bank. “Man, I was thirsty, that’s better. Maybe now I’ll get some action in my um… digestive system.”

He cocked his head. “What dost ye mean? Ye mean ye haena taken a shite yet?”

“Torin!”

He said, “Ye haena, I ken I ought not mention it, but ye haena... so I was wondering why nae?”

“I’m sluggish, um…” I straightened up and put my hands on my hips. “You’re right, I haven’t, you know, relieved myself in a few days, actually more than a few days.”

He scoffed. “But what dost ye mean, relievin’ yerself? Ye just did, behind the bush, ye did yesterday as well. Ye dinna shite then?” He popped the last hunk of bread into his mouth and chewed.

I blew hair from my face. “No, I meant relieving myself, takin’ a poo, or a… you know, going to…” I rolled my arm, searching for the polite word.

“Taking a shite. Tis what I said, why nae…?”

“I don’t know!”

“Tis nae matter, Princess, I daena believe ye ought tae worry on it.”

“Why not? It’s been days, I’m not sure it’s okay to go for days without, you know…”

“Tae shite?”

“Yes. That can’t be good.”

He looked unconcerned. “I dinna even think ye would do it. I thought maybe women… dinna.”

My eyes went wide. “You don’t think women shite, Torin? What do you think happens to all the food we eat?”

“I daena ken. Ye dinna, so I thought ye dinna need tae.”

He brushed the crumbs off his hands. “I ken lasses can, but I haena thought about it much, tis nae…” He grimaced and shook his head. “I canna believe tis necessary, tis too foul. Ye are a bonny lass.”

“Even the bonniest lasses must poop.”

Torin groaned, pulled the cork from the flask, and took a long drink. “I daena believe it.”

He passed me the bottle. “Hae some ale.”

I drank a little.

He watched me and added, “I think if a bonny lass such as yerself must shite, then surely tis a rare occurrence.”

I asked, “How often do you shite?”

“As often as is needed.”

“Daily?”

“At least.”

“Well, that’s how often women are supposed to shite too.”

He grimaced comically. “Here I was with a verra pleasant life, thinkin’ only of the bonny fair lasses, with their sweet voices and fine smells, and now ye hae tae ruin it.”

“I am not ruining anything, Torin. You will get over it, it’s the human condition.”

He sighed, morosely. “I suppose I will hae tae accept it.”

He put the cork back in the bottle. “I am teasin’ ye, Princess, I knew it, I just prefer not tae think on it, but here I was, wondering why ye hadna.”

“I know, me too… This is way too much sharing. Should we get back on the horses?”

“Aye, we should, but first… Ye truly haena taken a shite in days?”

I shook my head.

“Nae wonder ye are as ornery as a trapped badger on a summer day. Ye ought tae take a shite.”

I theatrically wailed, “I can’t! What do you do, you know… if you can’t?”

He said, “Tis not an issue.”

“I need fiber. Like a salad or whole grains or… maybe a bath. I’m just so uncomfortable.”

“Ye wanna submerge yerself in the stream?”

I shivered. “No… it’s fine, let’s forget I said anything. It will probably be fine. I’ll poop any minute now and then it will be fine.”

“Nae on the horse.”

I smiled. “Not on the horse — right, Ferrari? I would never.” I wagged my finger between us. “Me and Ferrari have an understanding, I won’t do anything embarrassing, not anymore, and he won’t throw me into a ravine.”

“If ye hae come tae an understanding, we ought tae continue on.”

“This is beautiful little spot though, we could relax and?—”

He shook his head. “We must continue on so we arrive in Glenesk afore the rain.”

“Oh, rain? That’s not good.”

“Aye,” he patted the side of the horse.

I took that to mean, climb on. I didn’t question or argue, because the only thing that could make this worse than it already was would be riding through the rain.