Food on a Plate

William's eyes were tricking him. They had to be.

In the shafts of moonlight that streamed between the branches, he could see a Moraigthian man, wearing the simple green tunic that was standard issue for that country's soldiers. He was smiling and muttering something, his eyes closed and his back against a tree trunk.

For a moment, William was nothing but confused. What was the man doing alone in a forest? Who did the other voice William had heard, belong to?

Then he saw a shadowy form seeming to move in front of the the man.

It was Joan Marcel. On her knees, pleasuring an enemy soldier.

William bit down on a curse, feeling his face grow hot with rage. Moving silently through the trees, he resolved to end both the man and the disloyal wench. Neither of his targets were paying any attention to their surroundings, making it very easy for him to approach.