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Jara handed Bradamante a mug of hot elderberry tea.
Her friend looked miserable. Having heard the story, Jara understood why.
She didn’t want to say so, but Jara knew that it was also the end of her own aspirations as a warrior.
But she said what was in her heart. “Wherever you go, I’ll go.”
Bradamante’s eyes misted. “Thank you, Jara.” She took a few sips of the honey-sweetened tea. “I don’t know where I’m going or what I’ll do now. It’s all so…”
Bradamante sighed.
Jara nodded.
They sat together in the small but cozy room Jara rented from a widow named An. Bradamante rented the adjoining room.
There was enough space in Jara’s room for a narrow bed, a small oak table where she did her sewing and mending, three straight-backed wooden chairs that Jara softened with handmade pillo
