The cart rocked back and forth. The seat was hard and his hindquarters took the punishment. Beside him, the coachman made no sound except for his breathing. Dannke had been grateful for that at first, but it was the second day of the journey and he was bored with listening to the chirping of birds and nothing else. Behind him, along with all the equipment and products ready to be exchanged at Lea Beranta, was Fleas with his nose in the air. As he said, the scent of Surly was drifting through the thicket of the forest, which was gaining more and more confidence. At least his b********y was of some use.
"I can't feel my buttocks anymore, my good man. Perhaps we could rest a while, stretch our legs and eat something."
The coachman gave him a sideways glance. He shook his head.
"Bad place.
