Griffin Song
‘Quiet, or I will bind your mouth again.’
Irenya clung to the mane with her bound hands and kept silent. The gag had been thick and tight and made breathing through her nose laboured. Pain defined every muscle in her body. The effort to stay upright in the saddle needed all her concentration, left her no space to admit the deeper pain in her heart.
She squinted in the harsh light, looking for anything that might give her hope. The landscape was barren, except for tufts of brown desert grass and the occasional stunted bush. The morning was still early, but already the sun was a burning disc welded to the sky. Her eyelids ached from the effort of keeping them half-closed. She missed her hat. Remembered seeing it, floating in the pool where she and Ulei had bathed.
During the
