Chapter Eight
Most of another night had passed while Matilda fought to keep her eyes open and stay on her pony. Somehow, she’d managed. They’d not traveled by road this time, Elora taking them alongside it, weaving through the trees. Off to the side of the way, but able to see the dirt track in the dim morning light, they remained hidden from anyone who might happen along.
The sun hadn’t yet shown its face when Elora stopped. A frown flitted across her face briefly before she carried on. “There’s normally a sentry around here somewhere,” she said, falling back enough to whisper to Matilda. “For a small village, Najov. They keep bees and hunt the game nearby and like to keep to themselves. Marl sometimes traded with them for the inn.”
“Perhaps they’re not awake yet,” she replied, yawning
