TWENTY-SEVEN
He found Zurine's camp by mid-afternoon. There was evidence of a fire – she'd watched him more carefully than he'd realised, that night they'd spent in the woods together – and he found the wax rind of the cheese they'd shared.
He could keep going, or make camp, as she had.
If he knew she was close by, that he'd reach her by nightfall, he would have continued on without hesitation. But he didn't know how long she'd wandered until she'd found the cottage, or the cottage inhabitants had found her. She could still be days away, and he'd be no use to her if he arrived without having slept. Fighting one man he might manage...but seven of them? Hardened miners might not be fighters, but they knew where to strike a blow and how to make it a good one. A man who could split rock c
