No crows, thank God. Eleanor remembered her dreams of the previous night and felt the blood rushing to her face.
No crows, thank God.“It’s a beautiful day,” Thomas said cheerfully, stamping his boots and taking deep breaths.
“You seem to be enjoying it,” Eleanor replied sourly, shivering inside her coat, scarf, and hat. “Over this way.” She thumped her staff on the ground to test its solidity and set off, watching Thomas from the corner of her eye.
What would he think if he knew what I dreamed? She smiled. He’d probably approve. I doubt he was a monk over in France.
What would hethink if he knew what I dreamed?He’d probably approve. I doubt he was a monk over in France.The moor was uneven, with rises of high ground alternating with dips where thin ice concealed treacherous areas of bog
