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Sabrina grinned as she looked at the map laid out before her. It was a map of the region of Sarilia, at the southern tip of Vernia, not too far from her home region of Valence. It was the home of Prince Armondo De Valencia. Prince Armando was a large and prickly thorn in Sabrina’s side since this campaign had begun. She had been trying to deal with a myriad of problems, putting out fire after fire for two months now. Suffice it to say, she was not in the best of moods.

One of those fires was Armondo’s troops harassing hers for a few days now. He would feint her into a trap, bog her down for hours on end, then run away like a coward. She was growing desperate for a breakthrough from this numbing stalemate. And she had just the thing to get that breakthrough.

She was in the war tent of her main camp. The banner of the Di Grazia and Ferlito families hung on the wall, the two families she belonged to. Seeing the Di Grazia banner, her mind began to wander to her husband, Tristano.

She wished he could have joined her on this campaign, but alas. He was taking care of their firstborn while she was out here fighting another idiot prince to keep an alliance that will probably, in the long run, not matter. Her mind soon turned to a memory of Tristano’s hands on her hips, kissing her. She shook her head, clearing the idle thought from her mind. She was looking down at the map laid before her. It was a tactical map that told them of their situation as of yesterday.

To her east was Armando’s forces, they were moving north and trying to draw her out of the position she was in for the umpteenth time. She was not going to let that happen again.

“Uncle, send your scouts to the east,” Sabrina spoke. On the tactical map, she moved the figure that represented her uncle's scout forces. The older catfolk saluted her, beating his chest with one hand before making a fist and punching the air, and left the tent.

“Gunther, take 400 novice troops and head north; draw out Armando’s forces.” Gunther nodded, saluted and the ulv berserker left to do his employers orders.

Her plan was threefold: step one was to draw the bulk of Armondo’s forces into the open, using the diversion from Captain Gunther. Gunther would lead no more than 400 men and women into what Armondo would hopefully see as an easy force to pick off. Step two would be to use her cavalry, led by her, to funnel them into the bulk of her forces that would be hiding in the forest. Third and finally would be envelopment, the diversionary force; her cavalry and her main forces would surround Armondo. The linchpin of this was the Alagiri River, deep and with only one bridge to cross it: a bridge that Sabrina already had control over.

Though this plan hinged on Armondo being overconfident from his latest string of successes, she’d met the man he’d take the bait. With her orders disseminated amongst her captains and lieutenants, and her uncles’ scouts sending a raven to tell her that Armondo’s forces were marching towards where they needed to be, all that was left was to spring the trap. Overlooking the river, spyglass in hand she watched and waited. Her main force was hiding in the dense Alagiri Forest, waiting for the horn of her cavalry to emerge.

“Now spring my trap, you idiot.” She said to herself as she watched Gunther’s forces began their feint. Gunther’s troops were some of her weaker ones; hopefully, they wouldn’t take too many losses before she descended from the hilltop.

“YES! He’s taking the bait!” Sabrina was as giddy as a kitten when she saw Armando falling into her trap like a blind fool might fall into a well. She only had to wait just long enough to make sure that he wasn’t about to gain the upper hand.

With her enemy in sight, she pulled out her saber and raised it skyward, the silver-coated blade gleaming in the sun. She then thrust it forward; this was the signal for her cavalry to charge.

With polearms at the ready, the cavalry began their charge towards their foes. Rushing down the hilltop like thunder and lightning. The beat of hooves sounded like it, thundering towards their unsuspecting enemies.

Pulling out a horn, Sabrina blew into it, and this was the signal for her forces to come out of the forest and attack. Her cavalry crashed into the unsuspecting troops, sending some of them flying as they were flung by the war horses that they rode; some were speared on pikes, halberds, and lances. The soldiers that weren’t were soon beset by her main forces hitting them from the back. They were caught in the vice. And this? This is what Sabrina loved about battle to be in the thick of it. To see your enemies before you cut them down.

She soon saw Armando, and she dismounted. Her saber at the ready. She charged at the ratfolk, kicking up dirt and dust as she charged. Sabrina was a force to be reckoned with; at 6’7, she was taller than most catfolk and definitely taller than Armando. The rat didn’t have time to really react before her body checked him, sending him to the ground. She reared her saber in the air and stabbed at him, but he blocked it with his shield.

Rolling out of the way, he rose to the ground. His own sword at the ready. And it seemed that the fighting stopped as the two were in the center of the melee. One by one, they all turned, and soon a duel was afoot.

“Sabrina! How lovely to see you.” Armando, he said as he flourished his blade in a manner befitting a pompous git such as himself. She cared not for theatrics and raised her blade; Armando had a slight advantage; she had a saber, and he had a saber and shield. Still, she towered over the rat, and so it would come down to who got past the other's defenses.

“Surrender, my men have you surrounded.” Sabrina said as she stabbed at the ratfolk who jumped out of the way; he then slashed at her, which she parried.

“What? And miss out on glory, Sabrina? You know me too well to know I’d lay down my arms.” Armando quipped as he did three quick jabs with his blade. Sabrina dodged two of them, but one of them caught her in the exposed area of her arm. Not enough to wound her too much, but enough to cause her pain.

The cheers and jeers of their troops as they watched this battle of two evenly matched commanders were echoing towards them. Sabrina stabbed at him again and again, trying to get him on the back foot, but Armando seemed to be an accomplished duelist as he parried every attack she made against him.

“Enough theatrics!” Sabrina yelled, tired of this back and forth. She wanted to end this, go home, and be with her son and husband. She discarded her weapon on the ground. This caught Armando off guard—he gawked at this, and this allowed Sabrina to punch him in the face. Stars rang out in his eyes as she brought about an uppercut into his chin, knocking a few teeth out of his gob. She had imbued her fists with magic to break through his armor.

The prince tried to fight back, slashing at Sabrian wildly, hoping to land a blow, but she blocked it with the gauntlets of her armor. She wrenched his hand into her arm; she then broke his arm, causing him to drop the sword. Armando let out a cry of pain as he gripped his shattered arm. She then punched him in the face again and then kicked him onto the ground. When he was on the ground, she jumped into the air and delivered a powerful elbow drop onto his stomach. The sound of the wind being knocked out of his lungs was booming.

“You’ve kept me away from my family for weeks!” Sabrina growled as she kicked the prince in his gut as he tried to rise to his knees. She was not done with him, oh no, she was going to give him a beating he wouldn't forget, “Kept me from my son and husband!” She yelled as she picked him up and delivered a knee drop, breaking something, not sure what, but the sound of snapping bones was deafening.

“I’m tired of you!” She yelled as she picked the rat up, gripping him by the neck; she then proceeded to punch him again and again in the gut, breaking his armor. Before grabbing him by the stomach and delivering a mighty suplex. This was enough as the prince was knocked out. Standing to her feet, Sabrian dusted herself off and she heard the cheers of her soldiers.

She grabbed Armando’s saber and the banner that he carried and held them aloft. “This is the sign of my victory! Any men who wish to surrender do so now!” She yelled and indeed Armando’s soldiers threw down their weapons.

Any nobility among the defeated would be ransomed to their houses, and the common mercenaries would either be sent on their way or persuaded to join Sabrina’s forces. She also grabbed Armando’s banner, which was a triumph without showing the defeated banner during your march through the streets. It was a heady image, she would return to her and Tristano’s holdings, the triumphant princess.

“My love, I will see you soon.” She whispered to herself; she pulled out a locket with a lock of her husband’s hair and touched the gold and amber trinket. It was cheap by most standards, even for Vernia nobility, but it was hers and was a gift on their wedding day.

A few days would pass before Sabrina’s triumphant return home. Tristano was still at their estate. Watching over their firstborn son. The small kitten stirred in his sleep, nary a care in the world. Watching over the young babe, he wanted to wake them for their lunch, but he also didn’t mind looking at him while he slept. He had his mother’s fur color and his eyes.

“MY PRINCE!” One of the servants yelled, and their voice echoing through the halls interrupted any peace to be had as Enrico awoke and started crying. He grabbed the child trying to calm them and spoke to the servant.

“Yes, what is it?” He rocked the kitten back and forth, trying to get it to calm down.

“Lady Sabrina has arrived home!” The servant said. Tristano felt his heart beat faster than before; his wife, his beloved Sabrina, was finally home. And indeed, he heard the crier horn announcing Sabrina’s arrival. Carefully he scooped up their son and headed towards the garden, where a procession was being held. Flanked by horn blowers, she walked into the estate, her armor gleaming in the sun. Three banners were held aloft on her pike, the banner of his family, hers, and her enemy’s tattered and ripped.

Sabrian dismounted from her black horse and presented Armando’s blade to Tristano, and she removed her helmet, her hair flowing in the wind.

“I’m home, my dears.” She said as she kissed Tristano. It was great to finally have his wife home.

“Welcome home my love, your son missed you.” Tristano said the kitten cooed seeing his mother for the first time in months.

“You must be famished; come inside; I’ll get the chef to make a meal befitting a conqueror.” And Sabrina couldn’t disagree; she quite liked having a nice meal. It had been weeks since she’d had fresh food—for weeks she’d subsisted off dried meat, hardtack, and stale water.

“I could go for some pasta.” Sabrina started, “Your homemade pasta is not from the chef.” Sabrina said she loved Tristano’s food, and his pasta was the best. And she wanted something full of carbs and fat and some fresh meat, not dried crap. She wondered if he’d make that rabbit venison pasta he knew she loved.

“But first I want out of this armor and into a dress.” Sabrina said as she took off the breastplate, the relief of being out of the armor, even just a little. Her shoulders relaxed, and she felt like she could feel like a woman and not a warrior for a moment.

“I’ll draw you a bath, then I’ll get started on some pasta.” Tristano said as he handed Sabrina their child, “I’m sure he’ll love to be with his mom for a bit.” Tristano said as he kissed his wife goodbye and went to the bathroom.

“How is my little guy? Giving your father hell?” She asked, and the kitten giggled. She was glad the newborn didn’t see her as a stranger. She’d been away for weeks, and she had feared he’d not recognize her; she’d woken up in a cold sweat more than a few nights from that while on campaign. But hearing him giggle? It soothed those fears right away. She rubbed her face against his, marking him with her scent; it had gotten faint in the time since she’d gone.

“My son: the sun to your fathers moon.” She said as she felt tears nearly form in her eyes, but she managed to fight them back. She hoped to D’argento herself that she would not be called to the sword again. She wanted to simply be a wife and mother for a few weeks or months or years of her life.

“I wish I could be rid of this damn gambeson and feed you, but alas, I’d be completely nude.” She said as she held her son, she’d feed him after she took a bath. Hopefully she was still able to make milk.

“Your bath's ready, dear; I even added that fancy rose water you love so much.” Tristano smiled at her as he took their son from her. Sabrina smiled, and she kissed her husband once more and laid her head on his neck.

“Thank you.” She whispered in his ear before heading to the bathroom. She entered the bathroom, and the fresh scent of rose water, lilacs, and ginger filled the air. Her husband knew her well, as he’d prepared a bevy of oils, shampoos, and balms to bathe with. She began to undo the gambeson, which was absolutely caked in her stench; she probably smelled of death and decay given she’d not been able to properly bathe for several whole weeks. She felt like she could breathe for the first time. Taking in a deep, deep breath. She soon lost the rest of the outfit, and she was now completely nude. She looked at herself in a mirror that was in their bathroom.

Scars covered her body, signs of her time as a warrior; she traced the most recent one from Armando’s blade. She traced the skin, still tender. She took another deep breath and walked into the basin that held the water. Submerging herself fully, she felt the invigorating waters seep into her fur and skin.

“Oh, I missed this.” She said to herself as she dunked her head under the water, eyes closed as she let herself escape into the luxray of her bath. Rising up above the waters again, she grabbed one of the balms, rubbing it into her fur. It seeped into her golden fur. Her body felt invigorated once more. She grabbed one of the oils and rubbed it into fur. The scar on her arm began to feel less tender and started to heal.

Meanwhile in the kitchen, Tristano was looking at the larder. Trying to find any of the dried pasta their chef kept inside, as well as the other ingredients for his pasta.

“Ah! Here we are.” He said as he grabbed some of the other ingredients. Tomatoes and olive oil were all part of his pasta. His family owned an olive grove. And so, they got fresh olives and olive oil. He also had hunted some fresh rabbits the day before.

Placing everything onto a cutting board, he began his magic, so to speak. To Tristano, cooking was more than a chore it was an artform, he loved cooking, especially for Sabrina. She loved his cooking, and he would cook for any chance he got. The aroma of freshly cooked meats, stewing in sauce, wafted through the kitchen.

“Smells divine.” Tristano heard a feminine voice speak; he turned around to see his wife, now free of her armor and now donning a dress. She was wearing a white dress with a brown bodice guarding her upper half. Tristano smiled at his wife as she walked up to him, hugging him from behind and resting her head upon his neck.

“Enjoy your bath?” Tristano asked, as he continued to cook the pasta.

“It was heavenly; I missed warm baths.” Sabrina said as she held Tristano closer. She then heard the sound of their son crying and remembered she wanted to feed him. Walking into the dining room where their son was sitting, she picked him up and sat down. She began to uncinch her bodice. Once the garment was loose enough, she slipped it down to her waist and untied her dress. She loosened the white cloth from her torso enough to let her left breast free.

“Alright little one,” Sabrina said as she brought Enrico to suckle at her; it took only a moment for instinct to kick in for the babe to start suckling at her teat. She waited and waited, but she didn’t feel the sensation of milk leaving her. And a lump formed in her throat as she tried to encourage herself to lactate. But no milk would leave her.

No matter how hard Enrico suckled at her, nothing flowed from her. She tried squeezing; maybe that would help, but still nothing. Her breathing began to grow strained as she desperately tried to get milk to come out of her. Her son sucked and sucked—nothing. He gripped at the fur around her trying to urge her to produce. She swallowed a lump that formed in her throat.

“Please, Oro, no.” She spoke under her breath, her mind reeling at the idea that she couldn’t produce milk, “Please gods no.” She said, over and over again, she said no as her son didn’t get milk and began to cry at this. She could fight in the mists of battle, run her principality: but right now, she couldn’t even do the most natural of things and feed her child.

She was feeling like she was a total failure as a mother. She left her son for weeks on end, and when she finally arrived to tend to him, she couldn’t do this one thing. Her cries of anguish rang out and Tristano hearing this rushed into the room.

“Love! What’s wrong?” He asked, rushing to her side. Her breath caught in her throat. Not able to speak, Tristano took Enrico from her and tried to calm the child as well as his wife. But she moved away from him, not wanting to meet him in the eyes.

“I’m a failure of a mother,” she said as she propped herself up into the seat, wrapping her legs with her arms, putting her head deep in the crook of her knees, “What kind of woman am I? I can’t even feed my own child.” She said through sobs that echoed through the halls.

“I’m able to beat a man to a bloody pulp, wreak havoc on the battlefield,” She started looking at her son once more, who was now calmed down, still hungry, and she was, “But I can’t do this…why?” She asked, and over again she said the words why. Her mind was filled with shame- shame that she couldn’t feed her child, shame that she left him for so long. Tristano looked at her, sadness in his eyes.

“I’ll feed Enrico, just…take a moment to yourself, my dear.” He said as he left her alone to wallow in her self-pity. Tristano sighed as he left her, grabbing some milk from their larder, and feeding it to Enrico.

“D’argento, what am I going to do?” he said as he looked at his son; the child had drunk his fill and was now fast asleep. He carried the child gently back to his bedroom. He prayed to the gods themselves to give him some strength to help his wife. Returning back to the kitchen, he still heard the soft sobs of his wife. He took a deep breath and walked into the dining room.

“Sabrina, ma belle?” Tristano softly called, his voice hopefully breaking through her sobs, breaking through her self-wallowing.

“You must think I'm a failure?” Sabrina said as she looked at Tristano, her eyes were filled with sadness, deep and aching. “I’m a failure of a mother.” She said as she still didn’t want to look him in the eyes. Tristano held her and kissed her on the forehead.

“My love, you’re not a failure; gods above, you are far from that,” he said, holding her tightly. He pressed his forehead to hers, and he whispered to her, “My love, you are the strongest woman I know.”

“You’ve been the rock I looked to when I was overwhelmed all those weeks and months you were gone.” He said as he held her hand to his. Sabrina was larger than life, larger than him. She was a strong woman, and he hated seeing her in this state. Hated seeing her feel like she was a failure. Slowly he was breaking through this wall that Sabrina had erected inside her. The walls around her heart.

“No, my love you're far from a failure, this is a stumble you will overcome it.” Tristano said softly to his wife, kissing her finally on the lips. The weight of her self-loathing was heavy, and he was going to carry that burden; he was weak in form but strong in mind. He would shoulder this burden for her, help her. With each touch, the walls she erected began to fall; with each gentle word, her body seemed to calm.

“This too will pass, my dearest; just give it time. For now, I made you some food; you should eat and feel better.” He said as he went to the kitchen to grab the food he made for his wife. The pasta was still thankfully warm, so he plated a large helping of pasta for her. Making sure that large pieces of venison were on the plate.

He served the food to Sabrina, who looked at him before she began to eat.

“Thank you.” She said, still lightly sobbing, she began to eat the pasta, savoring the tangy sauce and well-cooked venison. And she smiled as the food entered her mouth, Tristano was happy that this was at least making her feel better. For now, he’d have to find a way to make her feel like she isn’t a failure. They’d have to talk to his mother or someone who might help them with this problem.