Chapter 47

HE SMELLS the smoke first. Then he hears the cries, the screams, the clash of steel on steel and the thunk and squelch of steel on bone, the heavy, gritty grind of cart wheels on hardpack. He can't see, and he knows it's only because his eyes are closed, but he doesn't want to open them, so he doesn't.

He's left her behind, allowed her to force him into the cart, he hadn't fought hard enough, and now he's running away, and she's staying behind.

"I love you--remember that always. I'll find you."

Her last words to him, and he'd wept and shouted at her--

"You can't make me, I can shoot, don't send me away!"

--and he hates her just a little bit, because he is supposed to be the man now, she had no right, and yet she'd all but carried him onto the cart, locked him in the little compartment beneath the boards, the tinker growling anxiously--

"Nownownow, hurry, they're coming!"