Breathing deeply, Allegra inhaled the loamy smell of mud. She ducked under the sun-warmed water and shot back out, splattering drops that glistened like diamonds. She lathered up with the soapweed plants straggling on the bank and slid her hands over her sore breasts. Those folktales where women jumped onto their steeds and galloped off valiantly into the hills had to be about less endowed women; she always ached after a long ride.

Touching herself that way led to thoughts of Tanner, a boy back home. As children, they had often tussled together, learning throws. Although they had outgrown those games, lately he wanted to wrestle again. She smiled, thinking of his feigned innocence as he challenged her to a match. Up in the loft of his familys barn, they had wrestled in sunbeams slanting through cracks in the wood, laughing and tossing straw. Then he had kissed her. It had beennice. Odd, though. She felt more sisterly than romantic toward him. Still, she appreciated that he liked her just the way she was, a slightly plump dairymaid with wild yellow curls that never stayed tamed.

The urge to sing stirred in Allegra, and with it, her mage power. But she needed a geometric shape to create a spell. She closed her hand around her pendant, a garnet disk. She had worn it for ten years, since she had learned to make spells from a mage in her village. Today she slid into the “Song of the Lamp Dove, a lilt about the rosy imp who sent innocents chasing after each other.

Playful little scamp; naughty teasing dove

Spirit of the lamp; trickster of first love

You cause such a fuss with your lusty heart

Tempting young lovers; giving them your spark

The air took on a rosy tinge and light bathed the trees. The clarity of the spell pleased her. It was only color; she could do little more. But she liked it.

Bushes rustled farther up the bank. Startled, she stood up and peered toward the foliage while her spell faded away. A rabbit ran out and dashed down the river, disappearing into another bush.