39
On the Eve of What Will be
“You’re restless.”
Darrick looked up from the stump where he cupped the last of the evening’s tea in his palms. He didn’t mix his with mead as the other men did. It muted his sleep, and there were few things about his freedom he valued more. “Is that an accusation, Law?”
Law grinned as he gazed off into the forest. They all did it now, by instinct. Their camps were exposed, and there was little doubt that word had reached Waters and Mortain of their arrival, or would soon. Lord Khallum sent Storm that evening to tell them they’d move into Whitechurch just before night turned to dawn. They should move now, but the day would be long and the men needed a few hours, or they’d never last it.
Without the Southerland Guard? Rutland asked, as confounded as all th
