Alanna of Trebond, the sole woman knight in the realm of Tortall, splashed happily in the waters of an oasis, enjoying her first bath in three days. Hard to believe that it's winter in the north, she reflected. In the Southern Desert the temperatures were just right, although she objected to so much sand.
“Best hurry up,” Coram told her. Her burly man-at-arms stood guard on the other side of the bushes that concealed the pool. “If this is a Bazhir waterin' place, we don't want to wait and find out if they swear for the King or against him.”
Alanna stepped out of the water, grabbing her clothes. She had no urge to meet any Bazhir tribesmen, particularly not renegades. She and Coram were bound for Tyra in the south, and coming to battle with the warlike desert men would cut their journey very short.
Drying off, the young knight pulled on a boy's blue shirt and breeches. Although her femininity was not the secret it had been when she trained in the royal palace, Alanna still preferred the freedom of men's clothing. It was odd to remember that the last time she bathed in an oasis, she had been a page and Prince Jonathan had just found out she was a girl. Those days – the days in which she bound her chest flat and never went swimming – were gone. She didn't miss them.
Faithful, her pet cat, was yowling a warning. “Alanna!” Coram yelled, seconding the cat. “We've got trouble!”
— The Woman Who Rides Like a Man (Tamora Pierce)
