"We should probably pay for it this time..." Emmaline reluctantly suggested, rubbing her bottom.

Amal would have rather been on a waterfront, with a plethora of business men to steal from and imported meats and fruits to take and the cool breeze of the ocean to meet the hot arabyan sun. Somehow, with no sea or river in sight, the heat here was humid. Not entirely unwelcome either, but it boggled his mind how there was so much green with the only flowing water source miles away. His dark eyes swept over the hillfort and he did spy a well, which would do for water. But as for food, he desperately wanted to steal, and Emmaline could see it in his eyes. But there was barely three dozen inhabitants at the trading station, including the mercenaries that had come with the caravan. Call it prejudice, but even if Amal pulled off a theft like the master thief he was, the scrutiny would still likely fall on him. The northern merchants and mercenaries were a group apart, the ogres were too clumsy for it, and the Dwarfs were too bound by honor. 

So Amal gritted his teeth and took her look to heart, deciding they would pay for food, as much as he loathed it. So Amal decided to add a bit of fun to the whole scenario. He gave her a bow fit for an Emir, almost abasing himself. "Your wish is my command, high priestess. I live only to serve Asaph's Chosen." 

"Thank you," she mouthed to him, but her eyes and mouth went wide when he bent down, placed his shoulder under her belly and grabbed her legs, lifting her up to where her sore rump was sticking up, her hip pressed to his cheek and her top half gazing behind him as he trudged up the hill to the small settlement. "Think nothing of it, as I live to serve." 

She playfully pummeled his back with her fists, but there was no vitriol in it. Amal knew it was far better for her than walking up hill, she could stretch her legs once they reached the crest of the incline. What took some of the fun out of Amal's little stunt were the two ogres just behind them, with iron gutplates and scimitars the size of the greastsword. The leftmost one, a tanned beast with an eyepatch on his right eye, bore his remaining eye into Emmaline's face when he said "We should find some food too." 

"Sounds good to me," the other agreed, smiling his too-wide mouth her way. Amal heard the exchange and turned, swinging Emmaline around and squaring up with the large brutes, raising an eyebrow. 

"This one is mine," Amal said challengingly, patting Emmaline's expansive behind for good effect. "Go find your own blonde woman!" 

"But she's got some good meat on her." One of the ogres said, indicating her with a shrug of his shoulder and a lazy heft of its heavy weapon. "What if we were to pay?" 

"Not for all the gold in the world." The Arabyan declared, which was surprisingly sweet considering how high his gold lust was. It nearly matched Emmaline's own. 

"Don't listen to these cows." One of the Dwarf slayers said, the first of the small troupe to reach them as the rest trekked up the hill behind them. Their bodies were squat and powerful, but their legs made them end up perpetually at the back of the line. He glanced at the ogres. "Plenty of livestock up top to eat." 

"Bandits in the hills too!" The next slayer said, his eyes gleaming with a vicious light at the merest hint of the promise of violence. At that, the Ogres grinned like dogs. Amal had dealt with ogres once or twice before, and they liked nothing more than finding loopholes in the laws of men where some men were less frowned upon to eat, like criminals. Satisfied they weren't going to try anything, Amal swung Emmaline back around and marched up the hill and past the plain, short wall. The dwarfs had likely smelled the livestock, before they weren't wrong. Goats and cows chewed on bales of straw as the merchants did their business inside their shantytown lean-tos and some stone ruins with makeshift repairs on them. 

Amal set Emmaline down gently, spotting a black-bearded man placing some watermelons into a carriage. They looked good to him, and within two minutes they had found a nice place to sit while Amal carved the watermelon open so they could dig in.