Karela, the Red Hawk of Turan.

Conan let out a high-pitched squeal of shock as she saw and recognised the rider on the bank. One arm whipped protectively over her breasts, while her other hand darted down between her thighs to cover her bared nethers. Sonja made no such move to conceal her body, slowly rising from her haunches and standing proudly, unashamed by her nudity. The warrioress eyed the distance to her discarded scabbard and the sword it held, her muscles tensing as she prepared to leap towards her weapon if the newcomer proved hostile.

"Well met, ladies," The stranger greeted the companions, a lewd smile on full and sensuous lips. "Fear not, I am no slaver. I endured a detested iron collar and would not stoop to placing one around another woman's neck. And I see you have little that I would profit from stealing."

The newcomer was well known to Conan, Karela the red hawk. She had both fought beside and against her during her adventures. A bandit and raider, a plunderer of ruins and a thief. She had saved her life in their time as comrades, an act that had not earned her Karela's trust and gratitude. Despising the fact that she had been rescued like a helpless maiden, she had made Conan swear that she would never save her again. A vow Conan had honoured much to the bandit's horror the last time she had set eyes upon the tempestuous minx, when Karela was shackled naked by a collar and chain to a slaver's cart, and Conan declined to either buy or fight for her freedom. It seemed Karela had somehow slipped her collar and returned to her former profession.

Karela had auburn hair, but unlike the shining red and fair skin of Conan's present companion, the Turanian brigand's shade was of beaten and weathered copper, and her complexion was dusky olive. The bandit was some years older than Conan, near her thirtieth year she judged, but was still beautiful and ripe-bodied. The slaver who had been eager to sell her to Conan had described her as callipygian, a description from the **** markets of Shadizar meaning pleasingly large-breasted and rumped. A category that Conan wryly noted could now be applied to herself. Indeed, Conan was well acquainted with Karela's behind, having spanked it red and glowing when her patience had worn thin with Karela's willfulness shortly before they parted ways.

"Well met, stranger," Sonja returned the greeting, still making no move to cover herself. "I am Sonja and my girl here..."

"Connie," Conan blurted out before Sonja could finish her introduction. In view of the circumstances in which they had last parted company, she was keen to keep her identity secret from Karela. "I am Connie."

"Karela, some call me the Red Hawk," Her gaze shifted from Sonja to Conan. "You have the look of a Cimmerian. Do you know of a dull-witted brute by the name of Conan?"

"Aye, we are both familiar with Conan," Sonja answered, failing to stifle a wry laugh when Conan herself hesitated. "From your description, you must have known him well."

"Too well, curse him," Karela spat upon the ground to make clear her enmity. "And curse his giant cock too, may it shrivel and wither."

As Conan recalled, Karela had been full of praise of her former manhood on numerous occasions and reckoned if she was still endowed with her prodigious shaft, the bandit would have soon been reconciled with its length and girth, such was the shifting nature of Karela's affections. In any case, the brigand's curse came too late to have effect, the cock which Karela professed to scorn being totally absent rather than simply shrunken.