The fire had burnt out hours ago when the steed galloped up, and the rider looked down at me, cradling her in my arms.
"Are you the one who lit the fire?"
The contempt in his voice was matched by the contempt in my eyes as I lifted my gaze to meet his.
"No, she did. Hours ago."
"Is the problem finished?"
I looked down at her, then back up at him.
"What do you think?"
"I think I asked you a question, peasant!"
"No, it's not finished. But now you're here..."
She stopped feigning death and hefted her blade.
No comments:
Post a Comment