57
“So why don’t woodfolk usually come down this side of the mountain?” asked Tarkyn between mouthfuls of doughy bread that had been baked in the coals of the fire and wrapped around dried meat and hazelnut paste. Ancient Oak and Rainstorm, on the other side of the fire were looking very pleased with themselves because they had managed to manoeuvre Lapping Water into sitting next to Tarkyn on the pretext of helping Midnight to plait a wristband for his mother. Tarkyn and Lapping Water were carefully ignoring each other and the two conspirators.
“Too steep, too little cover and too close to the b****y sorcerers,” replied Blizzard trenchantly. In response to a couple of warning glances, he grimaced. “Blast it! Sorry. No offence intended.”
Tarkyn’s eyes twinkled at the woodman’s discomfort
