7
Daemi laid the weld blade on her bed beside her pack and draped her heavy Redmondis cloak across them both, then stepped back and surveyed the collection with a silent frown. She placed her hands on her hips and stretched her shoulders, enjoying the pull and stretch of the muscles across her back. She could afford to carry more; she was stronger now, but packing light was a habit she had a hard time breaking.
Too much. Start again.
She sighed and pulled the cloak free, letting it fall to the floor as she upturned the pack and shook out its contents again. There had to be more she could cull from this.
The black cat lay silently in the ceiling rafters, staring down at her and swaying its tail back and forth patiently. It knew as well as she did that she was stalling.
‘I know, I know,
