"How far can humans walk between sleeps if they're big the whole time except for meals?"

"I think footsoldiers can cover thirty miles in a day if they have to? I'm not very sure how far I can walk, before I came here I mostly wasn't allowed to leave the palace."

"I guess I shouldn't have asked while also knowing nothing about human measurements of distance. Uh, it'd take me fifteen sleeps."

"Oh. Um, eleven or twelve sleeps, I think, between here and Akershus, for a soldier. But I haven't ever traveled very far and I don't know exactly how tired I'll end up being."

"And we have to take the kids - 

- I think actually I'd like to go today. If we wait much longer we'd be pushing up against nightfall on our way back."

Determined nod. "I should eat first. I don't know how much food it's sensible to try to bring with us at one time."

"As much as we can, probably, because we'll be in territory that's spoken for as soon as we cross the ocean, but I don't know how much that is. Do you need me to carry the kid or the baby?"

"I can carry the baby. I probably can't carry both, not for any significant distance."

"Okay." Pause. "Would you like me to carry the child as a favor to you, him being indifferent?"

"...I think so? What's the thing you're getting at - "

"Normally if I'm carrying him it's a favor to him, or, if he objects to being carried, a wrong to him; he's yours, and I'm doing it for reasons of yours and ours, not his, so it makes more sense to put it on you."

Nodnod. "Okay. Yes."

So he scoops some sunflower seed into his clothes and goes to get a drink of water and then scoops up the child.

She eats, and feeds her son and her baby, and then then they can walk.

She's not, in fact, very good at walking long distances, having never tried it before. She tries her best to keep up a decent pace and not to complain about it, though.

Well that might be a problem since complaining about it would be the only way he'd know they should stop, but okay.

At some point she'll get tired enough that she starts worrying about dropping the baby, when her feet and legs and arms are all yelling at her.

"Can't go a lot farther, I don't think."

He slows. "Okay. You can stop, I'll look 'round for food and somewhere to sleep -"

Nodnod. She sits down and feeds her baby and puts some effort into not crying with exhaustion.

"Thank you."

He is back a while later. "There's something off this way that'll be all right, I think."

Nodnod. She pulls herself back up with great effort and follows.

It's frustratingly far off if one is already tired but there's a comfy little bowl in a rock, with some soft plants growing on it.

By the time she reaches it she is maybe not actually crying but doing a lot less well at looking like she doesn't want to.

"Is something wrong?"

"Very very tired."

"We could've stopped earlier."