[Undómë]

Bregoware


Meghan

‘Simply here to talk?’ The woman’s words were scarcely welcoming, nor was the cynical glance with which she’d greeted Meghan.

‘Nay. Simply a passing comment,’ she returned, reining back her mount. ‘I’ll trouble you no longer.’ Meghan bit back the rest of her thought – that the woman preferred her own nettlesome company over any other, it seemed. Well, what was it to her. Naught! She was not here to make new friends. Only to see the charge the March-warden had laid on them seen through. It would be a good thing, Meghan reminded herself, to keep that foremost in her mind.

Meghan fell back a good number of paces behind Eostre. She shifted on the saddle, easing herself into a more comfortable position. She wondered if Osmod, at the lead, would call a halt for a midday meal, or would they ride on ‘til evening? Either way would be fine for her. Her waterskin was close at hand, and at her belt hung a pouch her brother’s wife had filled for her. Strips of dried, smoked goat meat, some hard-baked journey bread, and good sized slices of dried apple from the summer harvest would see her through.