A Beast's Heart (english version)

1.

"Hee! What in all seven hells are you doing in my barn, girl?!"
Only with difficulty did my eyes open, the nightmares sticking like resin to my thoughts. With difficulty I raised my head to a middle-aged man. His small eyes stared at me angrily.
"I'm waiting!"
With a groan, I rose from the pile of straw. I had been out late the previous night and this barn seemed the only one well suited for a night's rest.
"Excuse me," I mumbled a little sleepily, politely stifling my yawn, "I was looking for a roof over my head for the night. When you're penniless, one is hard to find."
He continued to scrutinise me with his small eyes, then his features softened a little.
"Wartimes are not easy... Which king are you for?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well, there are five to consider, at the moment. Which one do you stand with?"
Was he testing me? What was the best answer to such a question? I opted for the clever evasion strategy.
"I am for the rightful king."
Now the man smiled. He seemed content with the answer.
"You look hungry. I'll make you a deal - you do the dishes here in my tavern and in return you get something to eat."
I was lucky he didn't chase me out of the yard! So what else could I do but accept? To leave would have been inane!
"That's very kind," I murmured, nodding gratefully. The man turned and led me out of the barn into the adjoining tavern. I wondered how awful I must look to have the patrons all staring at me.
"Hey, Callan, what have you picked up?!" a man from the far corner bawled to my fleeting acquaintance.
Callan had to laugh.
"Don't put your foot in your mouth, Adrian! She may be a bit run down, but she's still prettier than you!"
The whole room laughed uproariously - even Adrian - and Callan turned to me with a wink.
"Don't listen to old Adrian! He doesn't mean it."
I felt uncomfortable and wrestled a nod from myself. Men in a tavern disgusted me, especially when drunk. And that seemed to be everyone here.
"Greta, fire up the stove! Someone here needs a good helping of stew!" shouted Callan and a red-haired woman poked her head through the door in the back corner.
"Seven hells, what have they done to you?!" the woman shouted, coming towards me. One or two of the patrons slapped their paws on her bottom, but she didn't seem to mind. If anyone would dare do that to me, I thought with a low growl.
Greta now stood directly in front of me and took my face roughly in her hands. I froze and reluctantly let the procedure wash over me. The redhead with the leaf-green eyes eyed me piercingly.
"Gods, how skinny you are!"
What do you expect from an orphan roaming the riverlands in wartime, I asked myself in thought, but did not speak up. I felt like cattle at a breeding show. I remembered how there was one at a market once. The one cow there was being eyed the same way I was now. I tore myself away.
"I'm fine, thanks," I mumbled and Greta seemed to understand.
"Greta, she'll do the dishes for you later. In return for some food."
"My stew should get your strength back!" she said, and disappeared back through the door, grinning. Callan saw my little canteen dangling from my cloth trousers. I remembered how my mother used to shake her head, her laughter filling our small kitchen.
"Did I bring two boys into the world? You're supposed to wear clothes, Lena! And what have you done to your hair again??? You're a girl!"
"Mum, it's so much more practical for housework," I had protested, also laughing, "Pants make me walk faster and short hair doesn't bother me so much in warm weather or rain." She didn't like it, of course, but I had inherited my father's stubbornness. She had known that any discussions were futile and so left it at that. Two boys... I wish it had been like that! Maybe then I could have protected them! Maybe I could have fought the soldiers and saved my family....
Sadness overcame me and I returned to Callan in reality. But not without running my fingers through my short hair again. It felt straw-like - that reassured me for some reason.
"Beer? Otherwise I'd have some milk..."
"I like milk."
I had never drunk beer before. I always saw what it did to people and was a little afraid of it. I didn't want to know what it would do to me. Frightening images came back up and I had to shake myself violently to get rid of them.
Callan, meanwhile, had gone over to an old-looking man and was talking to him. A little lost, I stood there looking around.
"Come here, girl!" called Callan suddenly, and cautiously I went to him.
"Yes?"
"You can sit here while you wait for your food. Thoros is a kind man and with enough to drink he's a good journeyman, isn't he?"
"I'm not a good journeyman. Just a simple journeyman, there's a difference. Bring me another beer, please."
Callan left nodding and I turned my gaze to the man in front of me.
"Thoros then...?"
"Thoros of Myr, that's right. That's my name. And what's your name?" ...