We rode into the village and I smelled something extremely delicious on the air. We hadn’t eaten since the eggs and mushrooms at breakfast.
Isobeau and the rider stopped in a clearing near the edge of the village. She dismounted as did the rider.
“I am Ruis,” said the rider, “and this is my mara, Passelanda. Here, let me help you down.”
Ruis reached up toward me as if to catch me like a child climbing off the monkey bars and into the arms of her mother. It was a bit embarrassing that I couldn’t dismount Arion on my own, but for as much as anyone knew, that’s the way we did it back where I came from. I took some measure of relief in that and gladly slid off Arion and into the arms of Ruis. Isobeau stood to the side, a flat, hard look on her face. What is that about?
A circle of women closed around us. My eyes widen as more and more of them gathered.
“They. Look. Like. Me!” I said shaking Isobeau’s arm to get her attention. As if she couldn’t see the resemblance herself. My hands absently went to my hips, around to my ample ass, touching last my jiggly thighs. The women looked at each other, smiled, chuckled in recognition. It was like a mirror - they were women of plenty, women of considerable heft, women who could throw their weight around, women who took up space.
“Oh. My. God!” I finally managed to say.
“Oh. You are from the Skandans? God worshipper?” one of the women at the front of the group asked.
I seemed to have lost the ability to speak and could only stare at these women. We look like we all came from the same wide-hipped, big-assed, thick-thighed mother! This is fantastic!
“This is Betty,” ...