Miur never asked me what had occurred while I was in the army, and I didn't offer up much either. I did assure him, however, that I hadn't been raped or tortured, and he had looked a great deal relieved at that, though I also didn't mention the big holes in my memory the night he had rescued me. I had the feeling I hadn't been physically hurt other than my hand, but I couldn't help getting the impression that something bad had still happened, and that it was probably best that I didn't try too hard to remember.
Of course Miur didn't carry around a useful dress or something in his bags, so I had to ride along behind him while wearing that stinky, almost transparent, abomination of a nightgown until he got close enough to a town as he dared. He did lend me his cloak, however, to cover my fuzzing scalp, to which I was thankful. The last thing I wanted was a sunburnt bald head.