CHAPTER THIRTY-THREEAn Unexpected Rescue
Heavy snowfall drove the villagers inside their rough, wooden houses. Galveston followed the taverna lady through a wide doorway and the Swift hung around the blacksmith’s workshop. They hunched beneath their hoods like black crows.
We used the opportunity to creep nearer, a dusting of snow disguising all but our faces against the landscape. Sorrel used a stick to lever a window open at the back of a cottage. He reached inside and lifted a loaf of cooling bread from the windowsill. My eyes widened with hunger. I licked my lips and watched his deft fingers as they worked. I would have ripped it in two, but he proved more astute. He turned it over and pulled out the doughy centre, sharing his spoils and placing the empty shell back where he found it
