The next morning, Julie kept Sammy resting. She brought up porridge to eat and boiled water to drink. After lunch, though, Sammy insisted on carrying on.

“I learn quickly,” she said, patting her stomach.

Julie didn’t think it worked like that, but, remembering how easily Sammy had learned to use a bow, conceded that maybe heroes were different. Regardless, she knew she couldn’t actually stop Sammy. So they left once the midday sun weakened, a slight breeze at their backs, horses plodding along to the next stop along the trunk road.

Despite Julie’s worrying, Sammy said she was fine. However, that wasn’t entirely true and, that evening, she asked, “Do we have any cream for chafing?” For all her practice horse riding, those times had been infrequent and short.

Scurrying around before the shops closed, Julie managed to find someone selling udder cream. Again worried, she tried to talk Sammy into another break when the next morning came, but Sammy hiked up her nightgown and showed Julie her thigh.

“I learn quickly,” she said again, patting the milky skin which was clear of any rash.

Faced with that, Julie could only blush and put back the cream.

Thus they had another day of riding, the weather overcast yet dry, reaching the riverside town that marked halfway between the Royal Palace and the capital by late afternoon. Although sprawling, it grew outwards more than up and so the houses and cottages had a quaint appearance. Most of the industry, warehouses and forges and such, was along both sides of the broad river where boats from the capital would come and go.

It took them a little time to find an inn with room, but they did. Not yet dusk, Sammy wanted to go look around, and Julie could only follow while clutching their purse tightly.

To Julie’s surprise, rather than the pretty glassworks or exotic foods, Sammy sought out the metal workshops near the river. Some there worked with tin and copper, making everyday things like cups and kettles, and others with silver and gold, and then the there were those working the heavy iron and steel.

It was the last group that Sammy approached, eagerly looking over the pieces; while they weren’t shops with finished goods on display, the smiths left out items waiting to be picked up. Finding an amiable bladesmith, a middle-aged man with a jovial nature, she questioned him for a while.

At the end, she made Julie pry open the purse. For a reason Julie couldn’t comprehend, Sammy put in a strange order for just a hilt to be made to a rough design she’d sketched out, but it was at least cheap.

After that, the two of them wandered some more. There were various artisans dealing in leather and glass, and then the boutiques with mass-produced dresses shipped down the river, and then a mix of middle-class residences and small eateries. Sammy lost interest there, so they returned to their inn for dinner.

The next morning, they rose early and ate breakfast. Julie was relieved that Sammy’s stomach seemingly had learned quickly. Still, she had given in and they had small beer—so weak it was more likely to sober someone than get them drunk—instead of water with their meals. Other than being easier to digest, she thought the extra energy wouldn’t hurt either; sitting on a horse all day was tiring, just in a different way to walking.

As the next stop along the trunk road wasn’t far, Julie thought they didn’t need to rush off. However, Sammy tugged her along to the bladesmith, and she said, “I heard of a place nearby we must go. It should be a half hour from the west exit, maybe less since our horses make good time.”

“Is it really that important?” Julie asked.

“Yes.”

While Julie often disagreed with what Sammy said was necessary to buy, she trusted Sammy to take the journey seriously, so she offered no objections.

At the bladesmith, she got to properly see what Sammy had ordered. It was indeed a hilt without a blade: smooth metal with ridges along the grip; the pommel rounded and hardly bigger than the grip; and it had a cross guard, but it was like what a rapier had, circular rather than a flat bar. Sammy picked it up, pleased with the result as it fit well in her hand.

Meanwhile, Julie was entirely lost, no thought she had making sense of the novelty.

On the way back to the inn, she couldn’t hold back her curiosity. “What is that for?”

Sammy laughed, patting her pocket where she’d put it. “Well, I think it is not yet time for you to know, but I will tell you if you wish.”

Such words only made Julie more curious, yet she had the discipline to stay quiet.

They saddled up their horses and loaded the packs and, rather than north, they left west, following the small road away from the plains by the river to the hilly parts beyond. The land poor for farming, sheep roamed the clear areas while the rest remained forested. Full of stumps and saplings, it saw plenty of turnover to meet the needs of the town, old oak trees long since felled and in their places quick-growing poplar and ash.

The road followed the natural valleys, winding this way and meandering that way. Shaded, it was pleasant, an earthiness to the air that the open roads lacked. Soon, a smaller road split off, little more than well-trodden dirt, and it climbed a particularly steep hill.

“It should be up here,” Sammy said. So Julie suggested they should dismount, saving the horses some of the strain from the incline; by foot, they led the horses up.

As they came to the crest, the trees gave way to a clearing that was centred around an oak tree. It surprised Julie with how it old it looked. The sprawled out limbs were grossly gnarled, stained with splotches of lichen and moss, and the trunk seemed to be four or five strides across. Its canopy so broad, it cast the whole clearing into a twilight. Only, when Julie thought about it, rather than the oak being in the clearing, it made more sense to think of it as the oak being the clearing, dominating the other trees and forcing them back.

Such a tree had a mystical aura about it, and she thought that that must have been why Sammy insisted on coming. Thinking like that, she noticed there seemed to be writing engraved onto the trunk, perhaps ancient scripture or philosophy.

Sammy had wasted no time approaching the tree, but only after taking in the sight did Julie follow. It was just that, as she came closer, she recognised that those words were names and so her stomach dropped, realising that it surely must have been something like a gravestone. The way Sammy acted certainly agreed with that, whispering the names under her breath as she felt the names with her fingertips. Some names could barely be read, little more than faded scars, while others looked fresh.

Standing respectfully to the side, Julie left Sammy to do what she needed to do. So many names fitting on such a broad trunk, that took the better part of minutes, at which point Sammy held out her hand. “If I could borrow your dagger,” she said.

Julie understood and dared not ask which name Sammy would be engraving, simply handing over the dagger; she kept it on herself at all times when between towns. But then, Julie watched as Sammy added her own name to the tree. That seemed too much of a bad omen and she was unable to stop herself from asking, “Sammy, why are you putting your name there?”

Focused on her task, Sammy finished her carving out her name before answering. “I heard a girl in town say that, if you and your lover carve your names into this tree, you’ll be blessed with marriage within the year.”

It took Julie a handful of seconds to both repeat in her mind what Sammy had said and then process it. At that point, she felt a surge of anger, feeling betrayed. “We came here just for that?” she asked coldly.

“Yes,” Sammy said, unfazed by Julie’s tone.

Julie clenched her fists, her feelings unwilling to subside and finding no outlet but her mouth. “With all due respect, Ma’am, there are people dying—we don’t have time to waste.”

If Sammy found those words upsetting, she surely didn’t show it in the blank expression she returned. “Lia, I am not the one killing them. If I turn around now and go back the palace, it will not be my fault that they died, and you cannot convince me otherwise. To say I am the only one who can vanquish the evil, am I really stronger than a hundred thousand men because of the gods’ blessing? And if I am, then why would the gods grant me such a blessing when I am unwilling? If the world would truly end by my inaction, then that is the fault of the gods, not mine. If you are to blame anyone, blame them for choosing the wrong hero and for making mortals clean up their mess.”

She took a deep breath and continued. “Besides all that, I will probably die. Once we start approaching the Corrupted Lands, every day will be a gamble. It might even happen long before then. When I die, this”—she gestured at her name, carved into the tree—“will be the only mark I have left on the world. Oh I will be in the history books, I am sure of that, yet they will not say that I loved women. My diaries will be burned, memories of me will be slowly forgotten. They will reduce all the affection I showed to friendship and deny me of my identity.

“I am only a little over seventeen years of age, I have rarely left the palace my entire life. However, just for the chance to have a lover, I am willing to die. I will go to the Corrupted Lands, I will confront Lilith, but I will not march straight to my death.”

By the end, Sammy was breathless, yet she hadn’t raised her voice at any point and had kept her tone level.

As for Julie, she was simply stunned. Never for a moment had she considered that Sammy could die. In her mind, it was a given that Sammy would triumph when they got there, so the sooner the better.

Her heart was tight, every beat accompanied by an ache.

The rest of what Sammy had said trickled through her emerging thoughts. There was a sense of truth, unshakeable, leaving her feeling intensely hollow. The world seemed a vastly different place when seen through the lens Sammy had given her.

And Julie thought that Sammy was right. No one had ever asked her to consider that the gods were wrong, so she had taken it as the truth that the gods were both almighty and yet unable to cleanse the world of evil. That contradiction now stung her. Of course one person couldn’t be responsible for all of humanity, she thought, such a person would be called god.

Given that, her earlier sense of betrayal vanished. If nothing else, she now knew that Sammy simply wanted to enjoy the time until she died, and Julie felt ashamed for how she had reacted. The detour they had taken wouldn’t even delay their journey a day.

Before, she had simply thought of the journey as an inconvenience to Sammy, and so she’d offered herself to try and make it worthwhile. However, she now thought it entirely unfair. For someone so beautiful and talented and prestigious, Julie was surely a worthless reward, not even worth even a small risk.

Yet Sammy had accepted her offer.

Julie knew there was something crucial she was missing—Sammy wouldn’t have made such a poor trade—but she couldn’t know what she didn’t know. At least, not unless she asked. That question felt so childish, though, and she couldn’t bring herself to ask, “Why me?”

Finished waiting, Sammy showed Julie a beautiful smile. With a few steps, she closed the distance between them and brought Julie into an embrace, innocent and warm. “Thank you for speaking your mind,” Sammy whispered. “I would be so happy if we can always be honest with one another.”

Julie felt an immense discomfort at first, having not once been held as far back as she could remember. However, her surprise lasted long enough for that initial feeling to fade, remaining in its place a sense of passiveness, not so much wanting the embrace to continue as being unwilling to fight it.

After a light squeeze, Sammy relaxed her hold. Yet, as she stepped back, her hands lingered on Julie’s waist. “I will not tell you to add your name to the tree,” Sammy said. She then finally let go and walked past Julie to the horses.

For a long moment, Julie simply stood, unthinking. Then her eyes fell to the dagger left by the trunk of the tree. She walked over, her movements stiff, and knelt down to pick it up. As she did, her gaze inevitably sought out Sammy’s name. Her hand moved unconsciously to feel the mark left on the tree.

Just above it, she noticed, was another name that had been scratched out, and above that was the name Louise. She stared at the scratched out name for a while. From what she could tell, the name had been Harry and it had only recently been scratched over, maybe months after those names were first carved. It was just that, when she thought of why Sammy had chosen this spot to carve her name, Julie started to think that, perhaps, the scratched out name was not Harry, but Hatty.

That reminded her of the legend of the tree. Surely, she thought, for two girls to carve their names onto the tree, it could only end in tragedy. There quite simply was no possibility for a marriage between women.

Yet she also remembered Sammy’s words—that this might have been the only mark she would leave on the world. With that in mind, Julia couldn’t walk away, and so brought the blade to the trunk. After hesitating for a moment, she chose to carve “Lia”.

When finished, she stood up and turned around, and she saw that Sammy hadn’t been looking over. A smile came to her, flickers of the little moments of consideration Sammy had shown her running through her mind. Even when Julie joined her by the horses, Sammy didn’t ask anything, just faced forwards.

Julie appreciated that consideration a lot.

On the other side, Sammy truly didn’t know if or what Julie had carved into the tree. However, she truly believed that both their names were there, together. It might have only been a few days, but she was sure that Julie accepted her. There was no sense of disgust in their touches, a willingness to be together, and still a spark of attraction.

Going over what she had said, though, Sammy realised that she had forgotten to say something important. Turning to the side, she looked at Julie. Feeling that gaze, Julie looked back. Sammy smiled, and reached over to hold her hand, squeezing it.

“While I do think it is likely I will die, I swear to you that I will persevere with all my strength so that I might live a long and happy life at your side,” she said.

Her conviction was conveyed to Julie, a single ray of light in a future that had been engulfed in darkness. “I understand,” she whispered, her eyes prickling.

Sammy gave her a last smile and then faced forwards again. In silence, they led the horses back down the steep hill on foot before mounting them. Rather than return the way they had come, Sammy insisted on cutting through the forest in a north-easterly direction, rejoining the trunk road past the large town they’d left.

Despite there being no path to follow and the way between the hills and slopes twisted, they really did make it back to the road. Julie once more impressed by the horses, they reached the next village at midday, barely behind schedule.

After their lunch, Sammy led Julie by the hand to walk beside the river for a while. Though somewhat blustery, warmth lingered in the winds, and diamond patterns glittered on the water. Barges passed by at times, but the breadth of the river made them seem inconsequential—as if merely ducks or swans. Groups of children played here and there amongst the reeds, common were shouts of frog or carp or roach. A short jetty jutted out at one point, covered in gangly teens, rods dangling.

Reaching the edge of the village, willow trees blocked the riverbanks. Yet Sammy led them a little further, finding a secluded spot amongst those trees to sit and watch the water, the breeze fluttering the hanging branches like a fringe.

Julie found it a peaceful place. A place of intense calm, it suffocated any thoughts that tried to intrude. She could only experience the scene.

At her side, Sammy could only experience the moment. They sat so close, hands entwined between them, shoulders resting against each other. It gave her a deep and meaningful sense of satisfaction that she would not soon forget.

Some time later, they set off again.

Closer to the capital and the vast farmlands that supported it, the trunk road was busier, often splitting off to hamlets where farmhands lived, many wagons heavy with crops trundling along. Their party of two on horseback easily manoeuvred around the bulky traffic, no trouble keeping their pace.

Late afternoon, they arrived at the next town and found lodgings for the night, sharing a room with each other a given. Once they unloaded their packs, they went out to wander around the bustling town.

Unlike the large town they had stayed at the night before, this one lacked the spaciousness and industry, more of a small city. The buildings were taller and built closely together, entirely brick and clay, few made of wood and thatch. Rather than people working metals and glass, there was a watchmaker’s shop, and several workshops for tailors and dressmakers, bootmakers and saddlers, carpenters and painters. They even passed a printer, a neat flyer advertising their services in the window.

However, Sammy had her eyes on the dressmaker shops and, upon finding one she liked the look of, dragged Julie inside amidst insistences that they already had enough clothes.

Unlike the jovial bladesmith, the owner of the shop treated Sammy coolly at first, reluctant to let the somewhat scruffy lady in a riding habit touch the clean clothes. Yet he soon warmed up to her—at Julie’s expense.

“She has such a wonderful warmth to her skin, wouldn’t this look grand on her?” Sammy said, holding up a plain dress in front of Julie, the rich chestnut colour holding a reddish tinge that matched well the blush on Julie’s tanned cheeks.

The owner, an older man with a narrow face which gave the loose impression of a squirrel, eagerly nodded. “Oh yes,” he said, his voice not deep but still a man’s, accent a blend of common and proper, “especially with some red accessories. Let’s see, a maroon or crimson clip for her hair? Perhaps a sash as well?”

Mortified, Julie could only hang her head, but even then Sammy would lift her chin from time to time. Faced with such a pout at those times, Sammy felt all the more motivated to continue her teasing.

In the end, Sammy settled on a cotton dress. It was somewhat short, barely coming down to the ankles, and not even dyed. The little decoration it had was a simple lace trim at the neckline, cuffs, and hem. But she did not buy it right away.

“Do you like it?” she quietly asked Julie. “It would make a pretty nightgown.”

Having been lost in her role as a dress-up dolly (though no changing of clothes had gone on), it took Julie a moment to realise she had been asked a question, another moment to think it over. “I guess it would? Is there something wrong with your one?” she asked.

“Oh no, this one would be for you,” Sammy said, smiling.

“Me? I don’t need one,” Julie said.

Sammy softly laughed, mildly irritating Julie. After those few notes of laughter finished, Sammy said, “This is a cheap yet sturdy dress. If it would make you at all happy to sleep in it, we should buy it. If you are happy with your pyjamas, then that is fine too.”

It was a strangely difficult question for Julie to answer. There had never been an alternative for her, thus she had never needed to consider wearing anything else to bed. Besides, the poor fit of the men’s pyjamas didn’t matter for sleeping, so she had no reason to dislike them.

But Sammy was asking her if she liked them and she had no particular reason to like them either. So she thought for a moment whether she had a reason to like the dress, and what came to her were the embarrassing words Sammy had been saying. Overcome by a moment of childishness, she asked, “Would it look good on me?”

Rather than laugh, Sammy reached over to hold her hand. “You look good, so whatever you wish to wear will look good on you,” she said without hesitation.

Julie felt her cheeks burn again at those words. Yet she knew that only a lie could be so sweet, that Sammy surely found the dress a better sight than the baggy shirt and trousers. Silly as that reason was, Julie felt it compelling enough to come to a decision, and she squeezed Sammy’s hand. “Let’s buy it,” she murmured.

Of all the dresses Sammy had given away, none had she so anticipated seeing worn. To go with the purchase, she added two silk ribbons: one of the same chestnut colour as the earlier dress, the other pale as milk.

Julie only realised those additions on the way out of the shop, chiding Sammy for buying them. But Sammy just smiled as she tied her hair into a ponytail with the white ribbon and, with the other, tied a bow on Julie’s wrist. “If you do not wish to grow your hair out, this is nice too,” Sammy said.

Although Julie still thought it a wasteful purchase, she kept her grumblings to herself.

There was nothing else that caught Sammy’s eye as they wandered around town. Once the lamplighters were out, they found their way back to the inn under the warm glow of oil lamps. Despite it being busy, they didn’t have long to wait for their simple meal and Sammy enjoyed her small beer, treating it as if a fine wine—or so Julie thought, humouring herself.

Afterwards, they retired to their shared room. Used to the routine, Julie looked out the window with the curtains drawn behind her, while Sammy wiped herself down and changed into her nightgown. Then they swapped, Sammy lying on the bed and facing the wall.

The first part was easy enough for Julie, but, when it came to dressing herself, her gaze lingered on her new nightgown. She had, on special occasions, worn an issued dress back at the garrison; the rest of the time, she had been in uniform. The Royal Guards were the only branch of the military permitting women, which they did for the purpose of providing closer guarding to female subjects while maintaining propriety. However, the only consideration they were given was a separate dormitory, otherwise expected to be indistinguishable from the men. If not for those times when civilian clothing was required, she really wouldn’t have ever worn a dress before.

That moment of hesitation lasted little more than a second, and then she picked up the dress, sliding it over her head. It reached down to her just above her ankles, the sleeves to her wrists, and it felt lighter than her pyjamas, softer too.

“May I look yet?” Sammy asked.

Julie bit her lip, unsure whether her shyness or anticipation was greater, yet she gathered her courage all the same. “Yeah.”

Rolling over, Sammy’s gaze found Julie, and it stayed there as a gentle smile bloomed. “Oh aren’t you pretty.”

“Your compliments are too cheap,” Julie said, even though she was pleased to hear that.

“Won’t you give me a twirl?” Sammy asked.

Julie wanted to decline, but those pleading eyes were difficult to turn down, eventually giving in. “Alright. Only one, though.” She pinched the sides of the dress and then, in a smooth movement, she spun around once on her tiptoes.

Sammy clapped and her eyes sparkled. “How wonderful,” she said, the tone of her voice matching the sentiment. “Have you practised dancing?”

The change in direction of the conversation caught Julie off-guard, her reply a moment late. “We sometimes did after hours in the dormitory, but not under a teacher or anything,” she said.

“Shall we continue the tradition?” Sammy asked.

Julie looked on in confusion at first, but then Sammy offered her a hand and realisation struck, bringing with it an onset of shyness. “No, we can’t. I can do a neat spin, but nothing else,” she muttered.

“We have months to practise,” Sammy said.

But Julie was too reluctant, unwilling to embarrass herself so thoroughly, and shook her head.

Although disappointed, Sammy tried not to show it as she took back her hand. “If you come to change your mind, please do tell me—dancing is rather fun,” she said.

After a moment, Julie asked, “Did you dance with a lot of girls?”

Sammy was surprised by the question, the first time Julie had shown an interest in past happenings. “I did. Some were beginners whom I more taught than practised with, while others were rather capable.”

“Was it… even fun with the beginners?” Julie asked.

Oh, Sammy’s heart melted, Julie acting too cute. “So much fun.”

Silence settled, Julie in thought as she set up her bed on the floor, Sammy watching her. Much to Sammy’s amusement, Julie seemed to lack any sense of awareness regarding her dress. While she shuffled around, her dress often hiked up, so she inadvertently teased Sammy with small glimpses when the hem rose, but she showed little above the knee at most.

Still, the sight rather interested Sammy. What skin Julie usually showed had been sun-kissed, yet her legs quickly paled above the shins. Sammy liked the contrast, and she liked seeing the parts of Julie that few others had seen—perhaps not even her dormmates.

With her bed ready, Julie extinguished the candle and then lay down. “Goodnight, Sammy,” she whispered.

“Goodnight, Lia.”

It had been a long day for Julie, both mentally and physically, and sleep soon found her.

Lying on the edge of her bed, Sammy stared down at Julie. It was a gentle gaze tinged with fondness as she recalled the day’s happenings. After a while, she turned onto her back and closed her eyes, falling asleep with a small smile.