Eryshae

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Sam

On the road to Ocean City

The first light of dawn spilled gold across the canvas walls. Soft, quiet. Not loud enough to stir the world. But enough to stir him. Sam's eyes opened to the hush of morning, the faint scent of pine and lake water lingering in the cool air. Beside him, Vael slept curled on her side, one arm beneath her head, the other tucked close to her chest. The blanket had slipped, baring one smooth shoulder and the curve of her back.

She looked peaceful. He studied her for a long moment, committing the rise and fall of her breath to memory. How often had he feared he'd lose this? How close had they come, again and again, to not having mornings like this at all? His hand moved gently, brushing hair from her face. Then lower, to her neck, the back of her shoulder, the ridge of tension he'd felt building there over the past few days.

Quietly, reverently, he shifted to straddle her thighs, careful not to wake her too suddenly. His palms warmed against her skin, drawing slow circles with practiced care. He'd watched the herbalist Myrtle work balm into bruises and strained muscles. He'd learned. Paid attention. Now he used that knowledge not as healer, but as lover.

His thumbs pressed gently into the knots at her shoulders, gliding downward with firm strokes. Her skin was warm under his hands, soft where it wasn't scarred. The blanket slipped lower as he worked his way down the length of her spine.

Vael stirred. A quiet hum escaped her lips as her eyes blinked half open, sleep-fogged and slow. "Mmm…" she murmured, voice low, warm. "You're either trying to seduce me… or earn breakfast privileges for life."

Sam leaned down and kissed the back of her neck, smiling against her skin. "Both," he whispered. Vael smiled into the pillow, eyes fluttering closed again as his hands moved lower, kneading into the base of her spine.

"Not fair," she murmured, melting beneath his touch. "You find new ways to make me fall in love with you." He chuckled, low in his throat, and bent to press another kiss between her shoulder blades. "Then I'm doing it right."

Outside, birds began to stir. The lake rippled faintly in the breeze. But inside the tent, time slowed, reduced to the rhythm of his hands and the quiet sighs of the woman he loved.

The soft light of dawn filtered through the tent's fabric as Vael's breathing evened, her body relaxing beneath Sam's hands. He paused, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear and whispering, "Let's try for breakfast by the lake, yeah?" She smiled, eyes still heavy with sleep and affection. "Just don't lose to the fish this time."

Sam chuckled, easing himself up and pulling on his worn boots. Outside, the world was painted in pale pinks and golds. The lake lay calm and inviting, the surface smooth like glass. They stepped quietly to the water's edge, the chill of morning nipping at their skin. Sam assembled the fishing rod with practiced ease, casting his line carefully into the stillness.

Her gaze softened as she noticed the strength returning to Sam's posture, the steady warmth in his eyes. "Careful," she said gently. "Stay close." Vael settled quietly behind Sam, close enough that her warmth seeped into his back. She reached forward, gently taking his hands in hers, guiding him as he held the fishing rod.

"I remember what my father always said," she murmured softly, "'Let the rod be an extension of your arm, smooth and steady. Don't fight the water, work with it.'" Sam glanced back with a small grin. "Sounds like solid advice. Though, truth be told, my family were always more pirates than fishermen when it came to sailing and drinking rum. Fishing? Not so much."

Vael laughed quietly, her hands steadying him as she helped him adjust his grip. "Well, then I guess you're in good hands today." Together, they cast the line with care, the fly arcing out over the glassy lake. Sam took a deep breath, feeling the calm settle over him with the morning mist.

With Vael's hands steadying his, Sam focused on the gentle rhythm of casting the line. Their movements synced, smooth and deliberate. The lure landed softly on the water's surface, sending ripples across the glassy lake. Time stretched as they waited, the quiet morning folding around them like a gentle embrace.

Suddenly, Sam felt a tug, a sharp, thrilling pull that sent a jolt up the rod. Vael's breath caught. "Hold steady," she whispered, guiding his hands instinctively. Sam tightened his grip, leaning back with careful strength as the line strained.

Together, they worked in tandem, coaxing the trout toward shore. When it broke the surface, shimmering silver and speckled, Vael smiled softly. "A fine catch," she said, eyes shining. "Just like the ones my father used to pull from these waters."

Sam let out a breath of surprise and satisfaction. "Not bad for a pirate's son, huh?" Vael laughed quietly. "Better than not bad. Perfect." Sam and Vael carried the trout carefully back to the carriage where Commander Sidney was already preparing for departure. The tents were neatly folded and stowed, and a small cherry fire crackled warmly, sending gentle sparks into the cooling air.

Vael took the fish from Sam's hands with a soft smile and began cleaning and preparing it with practiced ease, humming quietly as the scent of fresh water and pine mingled with the smoke.

Meanwhile, Sam walked over to check on the two saber-toothed raccoons harnessed nearby. They were restless but healthy, their keen eyes glinting as they sniffed the air. Sam knelt, running a hand along one's bristled fur. "Ready to pull us through the morning?"

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

The larger raccoon let out a sharp chitter, as if in agreement. Sidney approached, her boots crunching softly on the leaf-strewn ground. "They'll do their duty, Sam. Good creatures."

Sam glanced up, smiling. "Thanks, Commander Sidney." She shook her head with a wry smile. "Call me Toya. No need for formalities out here." Sam laughed softly. "Alright, Toya. Thanks for watching our backs." Vael folded the last of the cooking tools, tucking them carefully into the saddle bags. Sam secured the fishing gear and checked the raccoon harnesses, making sure everything was properly stowed.

Commander Toya moved efficiently, rolling up the tents and stacking them neatly on the carriage. The saber-toothed raccoons shifted eagerly, sensing the journey ahead. Once everything was loaded, Sam climbed into the carriage's seat. While Vael settled beside him, her gaze fixed on the soft morning light filtering through the trees.

With a gentle nudge, the raccoons sprang forward, their powerful legs carrying the carriage steadily down the dirt road. The rhythmic movement of their paws blended with the distant song of waking birds. Ocean City awaited another day or two ahead, a city of ocean breeze and boardwalk dreams, and as the wheels turned, Vael felt the promise of rest and renewal drawing closer with every mile.

The road curved gently through golden fields and patches of pine, the morning sun stretching across the canopy in warm, broken shafts. Sam sat close to Vael on the carriage bench, her thigh pressed gently against his, the touch subtle but grounding. He glanced at her, admiring the way the wind played with the loose strands of her hair. She'd removed her cloak for the ride, leaving her in a soft linen tunic and loose riding pants, her boots kicked off and tucked beneath the bench.

"You're staring again," Vael murmured without looking at him. "I know," Sam replied softly. "I don't plan on stopping." She turned to him, her gaze slow, steady. Her lips curved faintly, a small smile just for him. "You better not."

He leaned in and kissed her, slow and warm, no urgency, just the luxury of time. Her fingers found his shirt collar and gently tugged him closer, deepening the kiss until the world quieted beneath it. The trees blurred in motion, the road swayed beneath them, but their kiss felt still. Anchored. Real.

When he finally pulled back, her breath lingered on his lips. "You always taste like honey and smoke," she whispered. Sam chuckled. "That's because you keep feeding me your spiced tea."

"You love it," she said, brushing her fingers along the line of his jaw. "You love me."

"I do," he murmured. "I love you when you're fierce. I love you when you're gentle. I loved you before I knew how dangerous that would be." Her eyes shimmered for a moment, emotion flickering just beneath the surface. "You're getting poetic again."

"Only when you're near." Their foreheads touched, breath mingling, hearts quietly in sync. Just then, the treeline opened, and the road began to widen into cobbled stone. The distant sound of rushing water could be heard, a canal, perhaps, and rooftops peeked over the hills ahead. Vael looked up. "Is this the town Toya mentioned?"

Sam squinted ahead. "Looks like it. Should be Salisbury. It's not large, but I heard it's a good place to rest before the coast." Salisbury, nestled beside a slow-moving canal, bore the hallmarks of a crossroads town. Old brick shops, wide tree-lined streets, and a small market square where local vendors were just beginning to set up under canvas awnings.

Seagulls circled overhead, drawn inland by the scent of salted meats and fresh bread from the market. A wooden bridge arched over the canal, and a pair of children ran laughing across it, chasing each other with wildflower crowns in their hair.

Vael leaned slightly into him again. "Let's stop here. Stretch our legs. Maybe find a bathhouse before we smell too much like smoke and trout." Sam smiled. "You say that like I didn't work hard to get that fish."

"You did," she said fondly. "Which is why I'll reward you later… after we get some lunch." He raised a brow, his voice dipping low. "That a promise?" Vael's smirk was slow and dangerous. "Absolutely." As the carriage rolled toward the heart of Salisbury, the wind shifted, carrying the promise of ocean air, healing waters, and stolen moments yet to come.

The carriage clattered gently over the cobblestones as they passed beneath a wrought-iron arch that marked the town's border. A pair of street-lanterns flickered in the morning light, and a hanging sign creaked overhead:

"Welcome to Salisbury, Waters of Mercy, Bread of the Coast."

They passed narrow bakeries still warming their ovens, a stonecutter's yard, and a pair of old women feeding pigeons with bread crusts outside a corner café. And then, Sam smelled it before he saw it.

Steam.

Cedar.

Salted minerals and something sharp and clean, like riverstone after a storm.

He sat up straighter, nostrils flaring. Vael caught the change in his posture and leaned forward too, eyes scanning the street ahead. There, half-shaded beneath a weeping willow and flanked by two flowering junipers, stood a wide timber building. A modest sign hung above the arched doorway, carved with care:

THE DROWNED SUN BATHHOUSE

Steam • Stone • Restoration

A mural on the outer wall depicted pale bodies reclining in pools lit by amber lanterns. A soft mist curled from open slatted windows. Vael exhaled slowly, lips parting with delight. "Saints of stone and steam. That looks like heaven." Sam grinned, already tugging the reins to slow the carriage. "Bathhouse stop, then?"

Vael didn't answer. She was already sliding off the bench, boots in hand, hair falling wild around her shoulders as she landed barefoot on the cobbles. He jumped down after her, hands instinctively brushing her lower back. "Careful, thief."

"I'm not stealing," she said, eyes sparkling. "I'm bartering. Trading the smell of trout and campfire for rose oil and hot stone." Toya pulled up behind them on horseback, raising one brow. "You two detouring?"

"Bathhouse," Sam called over his shoulder. Toya gave a knowing smirk. "Don't drown. I'll stable the raccoons and find us rooms. Meet me at the Drowned Heron by sunset." Vael gave a lazy two-finger salute, then looped her arm through Sam's and pulled him toward the bathhouse's entrance. Her voice dropped low near his ear, smooth as silk. "If they have private rooms, I'm claiming one. For both of us." Sam nearly tripped on the last step.

Inside, the warmth wrapped around them instantly, thick with cedar steam and the faint hum of flowing water. The air shimmered with moisture. Rows of woven towels lined the shelves behind the front desk, where a tall man in slate-gray robes welcomed them with a graceful nod. "Two?" he asked, eyes twinkling with discretion.

"Private, if you have it," Vael said without hesitation. The attendant smiled. "Of course. Poolstone chamber, second floor. Wood-fired. Rose oil optional." Sam passed over a few silver coins, and the man placed a brass key into his palm. "Enjoy your restoration," he said, bowing slightly.

The private chamber was a dream.

A deep sunken pool of slate and onyx sat at the heart of the room, mist rising in delicate tendrils. Candles floated on the surface, flickering like stars trapped in water. Hooks for towels. Carved benches. A polished stone basin for mixing oils.

Sam closed the door behind them and exhaled, already loosening his shirt. Vael walked to the edge of the pool, toes curling against the warm stone as she inhaled deeply. Her voice was hushed, reverent. "This place feels… old. Like it remembers things."

Sam came up behind her, pressing a kiss to the bare nape of her neck. "Let it remember us, then." She turned slowly in his arms, and the candlelight danced in her eyes. "Take your time," she whispered, fingers sliding beneath his shirt hem. "We've earned this."