“I have never seen a centaur before,” said the man, bringing the heel of his hand to his member and pressing down. “You are unlike any other creature I have laid my eyes upon. Is it . . .” the man bit his lip, “true what they say about centaurs?”

“That we have the girth of the horse? That our manhood is solid like a rod of brass? That we can give a man pleasure so great it will ruin him for human men? Ha! All true. Also, we are magic.”

The man was panting now, wantonly rubbing his hand along his turgid length. “And that you have a stamina so great you can spend hours, even days, making love?”

“Why don’t you come here and find out, weary traveler?” purred the centaur, beckoning the man like a fish to a magic lure.

She reseated herself and winced.

“What’s wrong?”

“Fell. In my bedroll. Perhaps you remember. It was your fault.”

“Was it?” He smirked. “Because I broke the twig?”

She snapped the book shut. “You did that on purpose.”

He tilted his head with a completely unconvincing moue of innocence. “I could see you were awake. I wanted to get your attention.”

“Yes, well. My ass thanks you.”

She glared at him. He smiled back serenely.

“Shall I tend to it for you, darling?”

“I think Vel would take objection. Speaking of, what’s going on between you two?”

James blushed, turning to hide his face. “Nothing is going on.”

“Nothing? You always tell me about this sort of thing. Are you sick? You look flushed.” She pressed the back of her hand to his forehead.

He swatted her away. “No. I’m just choosing to exercise a little restraint. Haven’t you told me to keep things to myself from time to time?”

“Yeah, but that was when you were telling me about that time you went home with the vegetable seller and he took out that big carrot and—hey!”

In one practiced move, he had her pinned, his weight pressed against her forearms. She struggled against him, her back rubbing uncomfortably against the roots of the tree.

“Get off me, you ass.”

“Make me, speck.”

And they were off, twisting and turning, pressing and rolling, wrestling like they hadn’t done since their teens. They were punching and kicking and pushing and then, all of a sudden, laughing, breathy and gulping, run through with giddy freedom and exertion. Their moves grew increasingly ridiculous, and as they scrapped Scratch felt warm, liquid calm seal a few of her tension cracks. So she went harder. She threw a handful of leaves into his face. He sat on her head. She got a finger up his nose. He threw her into the woods.

“Ouch!”