CHAPTER THREE
Grier wasn’t wrong about the corn muffins. Thomas ate three, all dripping with butter, while also having a healthy helping of the venison stew. It had been a long time since he’d had such a sumptuous dinner, not since long before the plague hit his village. The stew itself was stocked full of vegetables, mostly carrots, onions, and rutabaga. It smelled heavenly and tasted even better. With milk and water to wash the food down, the smith was feeling well and good about his fortune at that moment.
“You’re not done yet, my friend,” a middle-aged woman said as she set down a plate with a steaming-hot slice of apple pie in front of Thomas. Tall at more than five-and-three-quarters feet, the stocky auburn-haired woman cast a smile that lit up the tap room. He could tell instantly
