The Pictish have always been known to outsiders as Druids. But those born along the Isles know the truth.

Nectumaith (neck- two- my- th) was revered by her people. As small as the immediate clan may be. She was born early, and at only two days old she was able to arch her back and lift her tiny body off the ground, much to her mothers horror. At 6-months she started to walk, by 8 months she spoke her first sentence. "My blankie!" So it came as no surprise when the expectations that had previously been set for her were risen.

When she was 4-years old she hunted down and killed a full grown buck. Naturally the warriors of the tribe saw such promise and made sure to help it grow. By the time she was 13-years old she had been given full rank among the Kings warriors, and at 16 she had made a place for herself among his personal and most trusted guard.

But Nectumaith had another difference. She was not interested in men, she much preferred the female form. And that was not considered exceptable. By any culture of the time. Yes, that includes the Ottoman Empire. They may have turned a blind eye to sodomy, but lesbianism was severely punished.

Naturally the time came for Nectu to marry. She had only one excuse, and she clung to it desperately. As a warrior, she could not be affective if she was pregnant. Most who heard this accepted it as a logical fact, and thought it was a good reason for her to stay unwed. But those who truly knew her, knew better.

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Nectu was still asleep on the soft moss bed in her hut when the warning bells were rung.

She immediately jerked up in bed and rushed to find her raw hide trousers and boots.

She grabbed her sword as her mother was in the process of rousing her father. Her six sisters still blurry-eyed and confused.

"You have to be faster than that mui'ila. Had we been invaded you'd already be dead. Your draw string....." Carvorst began to warn me.

My trousers loosen and tangle around my knees. I fall face first into the mud, however Carvorst is fast, so it is only my face and not all of me. He snorts trying to stop his laughter.

"Nice ass, I could almost swear I also saw," I shove my mud covered hand onto his mouth.

"If you say anything else I will hurt you!" I threaten him in a furious whisper.

The asshole just smirks at me.

We've been best friends since we were kids. I remember when we first talked to each other. He lifted the back of my sisters dress up and in retaliation, Mael sicced me on him. At 6-years old I shoved him into the muddy river bank and force fed him a handful of what was not entirely mud. He shoved me into the water and sat on me. We started to wrestle, and after a while I twisted his arm so hard he started to cry. Complete with snot and hiccups. The next day he followed me where ever I went and eventually I acknowledged his existence and we became friends.

Carvorst remained my best friend until he decided I'd be better as his wife. I didn't even know he thought of me that way until he pinned me against the Ancestor Tree and shoved his tongue down my throat. Now things have been, not exactly awkward, but not the same. I think it helps that I will not except a marriage proposal from anyone else either.

"Have you heard a single word I've said?!" Carvorst asks irritably.

Oops.

I turn my head and look at him. "Why are you mad at me?! You know I've been sleep walking this entire time!" I tell him I'm my most wife-like nagging voice.

I'm going to make sure Carvorst never pictures me in a marriage setting again. I've never nagged him before, but this is actually really fun.

"You!..." Carvorst's face is red from anger and frustration.

Mission accomplished.

I giggle and sprint away towards the gathering tavern.