28
Over the Edge
Amlinn’s day wore on. The view did not change. Twice, they stopped briefly to tend the horses and to eat their own bread and cheese and dried meat. The day waned, and still they rode. Nervously, she kept an eye on the sun as it sank lower and lower. It was already far later than the Freefolk would ever have risked travelling, and still they didn’t stop. Of course, they were a powerful armed force, but still . . .
Finally, as the sun touched the horizon, they reached a ruined village. Chimneys stuck up from the shattered shells of houses and cast long shadows like black, accusing fingers across the rubble-strewn ground. As the gloom deepened, they set up camp in the surrounding fields. Amlinn watched tents being pitched, horses tended, cookwagons opened. The light faded,
