“Women’s quarters are this way. They stick us at the end as far away from the soldiers’ barracks and prisoners as possible.”
Nanette didn’t look at Claire as she talked. Claire trotted behind her and dragged her trunk on its little wheeled clockwork cart over as much stone-paved path as she could find. By the time they reached the squat, two-story building on the opposite end of the fort from the battle front, Claire’s arms ached, one from pulling the trunk and the other from holding her umbrella aloft against the driving wind and stinging raindrops.
Claire sensed the waves of resentment coming from the dark-haired nurse who led her to the women’s quarters, so she didn’t ask for a tour of the fort. It seemed pretty self-explanatory, and she was good at finding her way around. Once Nanett
