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He asked again if the tunnel worked. Perhaps he thought she hadn’t understood. A shadow crossed Athwen’s face. Her hands had immediately flown to his tunic to see if she could get to the left arm, but her fingers froze as her eyes darted again to Vrór’s face.
“Yes, Vrór, yes. The tunnel worked just fine. I told you just now, you know.” She couldn’t get the tunic loose enough, so she reached for her knife and carefully went at the shoulder seem. “The slavers on their horses followed me right up to it and when I stopped my horse, they went right on and down they went, plunging right into it.” She opened the seam and realized that she had another difficulty. His mail hauberk lay between her and the damaged arm.
“Vrór. Do you think you can get up and let me help you take this off?”
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