Chapter 39

"You speak articulately." Sendra was saying, her nimble hands inspecting his unsanitary wounds.

Hawsa just watched them meekly from where he was putting a meal together, freshly baked bread and meat with some cold wine, it was like a feast to Crunch who had had nothing but crusty dry bread and stale water to eat for over a week and then some.

"Do you perhaps live in the town?" She asked innocently enough, walking away to get a bag filled with clean bandages and poultices to apply to his hurt side.

Crunch averted his head to the side, his torn tunic was long discarded, the dark green material worse for the wear.

Talking about his birthplace brought him little joy but he didn't want to lie about it either, that would mean a higher shame.