Hunter and Chekwe jogged through muddy fields for the rest of the afternoon. The raiders’ trail was easy enough to follow. Where snow still lay on the ground, they could make out dozens of shuffling footprints. Where the snow was gone, there were still deeper prints from ten or so shod horse hooves.
The first hour of the pursuit they were silent, loping along at a mile-eating pace. Then Chekwe started grumbling under his breath.
“What?” Hunter asked.
“Keba wa na lukeba,” Chekwe repeated.
“More of your poetry?”
“A song for a fool’s errand,” Chekwe growled. “A recitation for when you’ve given up a worthy quest so your friend can chase after a younger woman.”
“Oh, shut up.”
“At least you’re not pretending to be a holy-man anymore,” Chekwe chuckled. “‘Better open lechery than hidden l**
