"Who are you calling a sow?!" Zanya's voice came from directly above me, bright with theatrical outrage.
I did not need to look up to know her hands were on her hips and her ponytail was swinging with the force of the kick.
"I see you're getting very casual with us, old man! Your old blood is boiling because of the fresh, young girls riding on your wagon? Face reality."
I rubbed the sore spot on the back of my skull with the heel of one hand and kept my eyes carefully on the road ahead.
"Please, you're framing it in an immoral way," I said, the apology coming out quickly and with as much dignity as a man who had just been kicked in the head could manage. "And while I like you girls, please jump out when we reach the gate. I have a fierce wife and three daughters waiting for me inside those walls. They will not take kindly to the sight of five—I mean, six young women climbing down from my wagon after a long journey through the Wilds. The explanations would be… difficult."
