Take a route through the wilderness

You decided to avoid the main roads, fearful that an ambush might lay in waiting for you. As you rode through the countryside, you chanced upon a small hunting cabin in the woods. A tanning hide suggested that it was still occupied. It lay so far off the major roads that, perhaps, it was unmolested by the war - or perhaps some soldier had killed the previous owner and claimed it for himself. The sun was getting low, so you decided that this would make the best place to set up camp for the night. You marched up to the cabin, two soldiers in tow.

You knocked on the wooden door, but heard no response. Perhaps the hunter was out? You started to push open the door. Your eyes peered around the corner, cautious that there may be a trap ahead. Yet no trap came. You found the cabin empty. Strange, you thought, that a hunter would risk leaving his cabin in war. To be sure, it was possible that the hunter was simply hungry - **** for a kill to nourish back his strength. But how could one be sure? You would need to search this house.

You did not speak, but simply raised your hand to your guards and ordered them to search the place. Slowly, they shifted upwards. Though they could scarcely hide their presence, owing to the metal of their armor and weapons, these guards could detect traps and perhaps soak up damage in a fight. Yet, no matter how far they moved forward, no combat came. The hut seemed deserted, and it was not long before you began strutting about the house as well. You noticed that the main room consisted of a small kitchen and what might be described as a living room. It had a poor man's furnace, made of fractured stone and loaded with cheap firewood - probably cut by the hunter himself.

The rest of the singular room left you unsurprised. There was a rack of hunting bows and a master quicker of sorts for arrows - as expected of a hunter. Next to that rack was the bed itself. Though the hut itself was poorly decorated, the owner had wasted no expense on the bed itself. It seemed stocked with feathers atop fine grain, making it top quality for a peasant's bed. Yet, the lack of an owner concerned you. Could a hunter really leave his home in times of war like this?

You turned around - a small gasp escaped from under the bed! A terrified hunter, perhaps? Some street urchin hiding in an abandoned hut? You peered down to investigate.

It was then that your eyes were treated to a woman young enough that her flower must have bloomed only recently. That is, she had just reached the marriageable age of 18. She had dark, indigo eyes on a freckled face of pale white — white as a ghost. She seemed scared, as expected, but not terrified to insensibility. "Hello there," you said to her. You got no response, her eyes still fixed with fright. "What's your name?" Again, no response. You tried for a third time: "What are you doing under the bed?"

She gasped, as if suddenly aware that she had been found. "H-hiding, sir," she responded uneasily, as if every word had to be slowly **** from her mouth. "And my name's Abi," she quickly added, as though she'd forgotten the first question.

"There's no need to hide, Abi. We're only soldiers; we'll protect you" you responded back. Let us see how clever this girl is, you thought. It's true that you carried no insignia a peasant would recognize as distinctly from north of the border (Jutlanders had a tendency to wear the similar "winged dragon" symbol), but your accent could tip her off if she was smart enough to recognize it.

"Ah... Ok," she responded. Not clever, you thought. "I'll come out then." Hunters with children tend to shelter them. It's dangerous for a young girl to travel alone and a hunter will regularly venture out on his own. It's likely he told her to hide under the bed if anyone came too. You'd make sure to thank him for his diligence raising this little cockhole when he came back.

She quickly grabbed the hand you sent, helping to pull her out. The nubile girl shimmied out from under the bed. When she finally came out from under the bed, you couldn't help but spend a good few seconds sampling her by sight. She was a true beauty.

She was not short, nor tall but a particularly typical height. Yet her form was accentuated by an ass that a lesser man might decide was unassuming. No, this girl was something special. Her ass was petite yet plainly firm. You knew the peach beneath those cheeks was well worth plundering. To be sure, her breasts were unexceptional, lacking the fill of a fully matured woman and limited in size. Yet the rest of her form remained so delicate that this blindspot did not account for much. The blonde hair she wore was braided in a single bundle, reaching all the way down to her rear. Her form as a doppelgänger of Freya herself. She would be yours.

"Does a young girl like yourself really live here alone?" you asked, still holding her hand in your own. You misplaced your second hand on her hip.

"It's just my mother and me," she responded reflexively, looking up at you with the sincerity of a child. Her mom must be the huntress, you noted, as you released her hand from yours. This girl truly must be sheltered. Did she even know there was a war going on? It would not be an unhealthy wager that she might be totally innocent. Her eyes were round with nervousness; her eyebrows widened with timidity. She was a fearful girl, but only a true fool of a woman would not be fearful at the sight of armed strangers.