They are horrible. His fingers cherished the hilt of his sword and his eyes were on his friend and superior, ready at his back to do whatever was needed. ’ ‘Where are we going?’ ‘Back to Blaye, my girl. What was the wench at? Yet he could not maintain this stand off forever. “John, I’m so hungry. To walk beside him, dressed akin to him, rucksacked and companionable, was bliss in itself; each step she took was like stepping once more across the threshold of heaven.
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