Page 44 of The Warrior and the Monk

But when Anders presented him with his clothing for the ceremony, Wilder balked. "But that’s—those are just my old robes. I didn’t even know you kept them! You want me to wear those to our ceremony?"

Anders simply threw the robes over his shoulder, freeing his hands.You arrived in these. You are leaving your old life for your new one. With me,he added, his smile shy and warm.

"But I get to wear the clothes Kirk made me?" Wilder asked, still a little uncertain.

Yes. At the feast, after the ceremony,Anders assured him.

Wilder took the robes, reluctantly at first, but then he understood. It was a kind of tradition, a symbol of the past they were leaving behind. He supposed it was fitting, though he had hoped for something a little more... formal.

You won’t be wearing them for long,Anders added, with a wink.

Wilder laughed, finally mollified. He looked forward to the moment when he would be able to wear the beautiful tunicKirk had made for him. The craftsmanship was stunning, and it would feel like a new chapter in his life.

Once Anders had washed and dressed, Wilder went outside to check on their visitors, who were already hard at work. He brought them fresh water, cheese, and oatcakes with butter. The warriors eagerly accepted the food and drink, devouring it like men who hadn’t seen a proper meal in days.

"You’ve done fine work," Wilder said, surveying the yard with pride, noting the content animals and flourishing garden.

"Thank you," one of the warriors mumbled, licking his fingers as he finished his meal.

Another man asked, "You do this every day? The... gardening, and taking care of the animals?"

Wilder nodded. "Oh, yes."

"And you cook?" the same man asked, his voice curious.

"Yes, but Anders and I both do that," Wilder answered, smiling.

The man rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "That’s a strength, then? Cooking?"

Anders nudged Wilder’s side, signing with a grin,This is also to show the warriors what it’s like to be wed, and have a household.

Wilder laughed, a lighthearted, almost joyful sound. "Oh, I like that," he said, amused by the thought.

???

The cart had been lined with furs for their comfort, and the outside was decorated with garlands of fresh flowers. Wild violets of all shades of blue and purple were tied together alongside the white petals of what must have been an entire field of chickweed. Each bloom seemed to capture the essence ofthe landscape—wild and unrestrained, yet soft and delicate. The flowers danced lightly in the breeze, their sweet scent mingling with the earthy scent of the horses and the fresh morning air.

Noticing Wilder admiring the blooms, the warrior with the broom chuckled. "You wouldn't believe how difficult it was to keep these beasts from eating those," he said with a grin, patting the horses’ flanks. They nickered softly in response, their long, flowing manes swaying with each movement.

Wilder raised an eyebrow, his smile curling. "I'm sure we can find a better treat for them at the feast. There’s bound to be a couple of apples, at least." He turned to Anders, a playful glint in his eye, and added, "We wouldn’t want the horses to steal the show, would we?"

Anders nodded, his lips curving into a soft smile.Let me help you up?He knelt down, placing one palm atop the other, his strong arms outstretched toward Wilder.

"Thank you," Wilder replied with a grin, stepping lightly into Anders's hands. Using them as a step, he hauled himself into the cart, landing softly in the pile of furs that had been laid out for their comfort. The furs were thick and warm, smelling faintly of the animals they came from but also of the herbs used to preserve them. He sank into the softness, letting out a contented sigh as Anders soon joined him, settling beside him with an easy grace. Wilder shuffled over to his side, resting his head gently against Anders's shoulder. He could feel the warmth of his skin through his tunic, the steady beat of Anders's heart beneath his cheek. It was a steady, reassuring rhythm that Wilder had come to rely on—something that grounded him in moments of doubt.

Two of the men took hold of the horses’ reins, guiding them down the road while the third man, carrying a broom, followed behind, sweeping the cart's tracks from the dirt road.

To lose any bad spirits,Anders explained when Wilder looked at him with a puzzled expression.

Wilder nodded thoughtfully. “That’s a new tradition for me.” He could understand the symbolic gesture, though it struck him as more practical than spiritual—if only to keep the roads as smooth and uninterrupted as possible for the journey ahead.

“All settled?” one of the warriors called back to them, his voice loud with a teasing edge. “We’ll get there eventually, I suppose. I don’t know that these poor creatures have ever had to haul as large of a lump of groom as Anders here.”

The warrior’s teasing tone was light, but Anders merely raised a brow and gave the man a playful gesture that Wilder was sure was understood the world over. The warriors burst into laughter at the exchange, and Wilder, unable to stop himself, chuckled too. He patted Anders’s hand affectionately, his heart racing in his chest as the cart gave a sudden jerk, then rolled onward toward the town.

How much faster they traveled in a cart! Wilder thought, watching the countryside pass by at an exhilarating pace. He had never really thought about the practicalities of carts before, but now he wondered. He and Anders ought to get one too, he mused. How much would a cart cost? And the horses? He shifted slightly in his seat, pondering the future as the breeze tugged at his hair. If their garden crops were healthy and bountiful, and if the hens continued laying eggs—and he could make cheeses from the milk of the cows, the sheep, and the goats—then maybe they could afford a cart. But then there was the matter of breeding the animals. They would need to find a stud for all of them the following year. What might that cost? Where did they stand, exactly, in the area's economy? There was still so much Wilder didn’t know.

He turned to Anders, his brow furrowing as his thoughts became a whirl of possibilities. "I’ve been thinking," he began, speaking both with his hands and his mouth, trying to find the right words. "If we could buy a cart, we could travel more easily. Maybe expand the garden more next year? But I don’t know if we’ll have enough to do that, even if the hens lay more eggs and the cows keep giving milk. Maybe we could sell some of the cheese, but then... would that be enough? And the horses—how much do we need to spend for them? And what about stud fees? I don’t really know—"

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