Stay put

Crombie did not move on.

He kept his massive horse walking at an easy pace beside the wagon, the steady rhythm of hooves and wheels filling the space between them. The feline bard continued playing for another minute, fingers dancing lightly across the lute strings, before she finally let the melody fade into a soft, lingering note.

She turned her head and looked up at him with those large, luminous green eyes. A playful smile curved her lips.

“Most people just stare,” she said, voice smooth and warm with a hint of a purr beneath it. “You’re either very bold or very curious. Which is it, tall blue?”

Crombie’s ears twitched. He kept his voice low and steady, though the image of what she had shown him moments earlier still burned in his mind.

“Both, maybe. I’m Crombie. New to the convoy.”

The feline tilted her head, tail curling lazily around one of her ankles. She studied him openly — the powerful blue-furred frame, the white mane shifting in the breeze, the way he sat the large horse with quiet control.

“Joy,” she said simply, offering the name like a gift. “Joy Windwhisker. Bard, occasional troublemaker, and currently very glad I decided to travel with this particular convoy.”

She said her name with a little flourish, as if she knew exactly what effect it might have. Then she shifted on the driver’s bench again — not as boldly as before, but enough that the hem of her short skirt rode up along one tawny thigh. She didn’t bother to fix it.

“You’re the one who fought off those raiders back in Havenford, aren’t you?” Joy asked, plucking a soft, thoughtful chord. “Heard the stories already. Big blue warrior who doesn’t slaughter when he doesn’t have to. That’s rare.”

Crombie gave a small nod. “I try.”

Joy’s smile widened into something warmer, more genuine for a moment. “Good. I like rare things.” Her eyes flicked down his body and back up again, slow and appreciative. “And I like the way you looked at me just now. Most men would have ridden past pretending they didn’t see. You stayed.”

She leaned back slightly, one leg stretching out along the bench so the skirt rode even higher. The flash was subtler this time, but no less intentional. A clear view of soft tawny fur and the delicate pink between her thighs. She held it for a heartbeat, then closed her legs with a soft flick of her tail, that same wry, knowing smile playing on her lips.

“Careful, Crombie,” she murmured, voice low enough that only he could hear over the wagon wheels. “Keep looking at me like that and I might start thinking you want to see more.”

Crombie felt the heat rise beneath his blue fur. His body responded strongly — the heavy weight between his thighs thickening against the fabric. He shifted in the saddle, grateful for the high cantle that hid most of the reaction. Joy noticed anyway. Her green eyes sparkled with open delight.

She plucked another bright chord on the lute and began playing again, lighter this time, almost teasing.

“I’ll be around,” she said without looking at him, gaze drifting toward the road ahead. “This convoy moves slow enough for conversation… and other things. If you’re interested.”

The magical chest at Crombie’s hip pulsed faintly against his side, a quiet reminder of his duties. The compass in his pouch still pointed steadily forward. But Joy’s presence — bold, playful, and openly hungry — pulled at him in a way that was entirely new.

He could ride beside her wagon for a while longer. He could ask her more about herself, or simply enjoy the game she was playing. Or he could move on and focus on the rest of the convoy.

Either way, Joy had made her interest unmistakable.

And she was clearly enjoying every second of making him react.