The walk back to Eastrenhold took the better part of two hours, though Kiva had lost track of exactly how long somewhere along the way. It probably would have gone faster if either of them had been capable of shutting up for more than five consecutive minutes. They’d heckled each other for nearly the entire trip.

It started with the hole, because Flannery had decided Kiva falling ass-first into the ground was going to stay funny until the end of time. Kiva retaliated by reminding her that she’d still won their chase. Somewhere after that, they circled back around to the stolen grouse, and exactly how much responsibility Kiva had accepted when she’d made the questionable decision to invite this woman home with her. It was easy. Stupid, but easy.

Kiva couldn’t remember the last time she’d spent this long walking beside someone without running out of things to say. Even when their conversation briefly died, it never stayed dead for long. One of them would make some smartass comment, the other would take the bait, and off they went again. There was, however, one subject Kiva had very carefully avoided for the entirety of the journey.

You’re pretty fuckin’ gorgeous yourself.

Nope. Absolutely fucking not. She hadn’t thought about it when they left the meadow. She hadn’t thought about it twenty minutes later. She definitely hadn’t thought about it every single time she glanced sideways at Flannery during the walk and became painfully aware that, yes, the woman was still just as pretty as she’d been while tangled up with Kiva in the grass. So, naturally, Kiva handled the situation like a proper adult: She pretended it had never happened.

By the time Eastrenhold territory finally began appearing around them, Kiva had almost managed to convince herself that this strategy was working. Her pace picked up slightly as they made their way toward Eastborne, relief slipping into her expression at the familiarity of the land around them. “See?” she said, glancing toward Flannery. “Made it all the way here without you getting lost or being stolen. I’d say I’ve been an excellent captor.” A beat passed before she added more. “And before you say anything, tackling you was still not cheating.”

With that settled for what was probably the sixth (and absolutely not final) time, Kiva turned her attention toward the castle ahead. She’d offered to bring Flannery back with her, which meant she ought to show her around instead of dumping her somewhere and wishing her luck. Besides, Kiva knew Eastborne. She knew the castle, knew the people here, and most importantly, knew where all the holes in the ground were for the most part.

As they drew closer, Kiva spotted a few familiar and unfamiliar faces scattered around the grounds, and an idea occurred to her. Her ears perked. “Heeeey!” There was absolutely no hesitation before Kiva raised her voice toward anyone within earshot. “I brought a friend back with me!”

She gestured toward Flannery with a paw as though presenting evidence. “I’m giving her a tour of the castle. Anyone wanna come with us?”

Only after the invitation had left her mouth did one particular word circle back around: Friend. Huh. Kiva glanced sideways at Flannery. Well, she supposed that was what they were, wasn’t it? Unless there was another word for woman I met earlier today who stole my lunch, watched me fall into a hole, made me chase her across a meadow, called me gorgeous, and then followed me home. Friend was way easier!

“And,” Kiva added, this time pointedly toward Flannery, “I would like everyone to know that our guest has promised to be on her best behavior.” There! Surely, nothing could go wrong. Only time would tell.