Chapter 8I woke early, alone by a cold fire, and walked to the stream, where in the rosy dawn light I admired the bruises I had gained in the fray with Owain. I elected to wash only my exposed skin, rather than take a full bath, for the morning was startlingly cool. A flock of geese called as they passed overhead, adding to the autumnal air, and I almost wished for my mittens. Only days ago it had been unseasonably hot; now I wondered if we steered toward an early winter.
Winter. The sea-wind would keep snow at bay, but the days would be dark and bitter cold, with even Rindargeth…even dragons likely to stay in by the fire. It would be cruel, surely, to confine prince or dragon to the stable in winter, where no fire could be lit—yet how could I keep them from killing each other when presse
