Day broke and Hunter gave horses and riders a rest at a stream. Bert and the Refugees ate. Hunger gnawed at Hunter’s belly like a rat in a sack, but when Veista offered him cheese and dried apples he shook his head.
Veista tugged at his arm and looked up into his eyes with her own piercing gaze.
“What is wrong with you, young man? You changed while we slept.” Hunter tried to look away, but the old woman caught his chin and held his head still. “You think you are the only one with sorrow?”
“I gave up a woman, and a child,” he whispered. “I thought I was Quamcursed, until I found another woman, and then, miracle of miracles, found out my daughter was alive. But the woman is another man’s wife. And the child? A young woman, now. Quam help me, I don’t know a thing about raising a young woma
