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. He was big for his eleven years, but the bag
was nearly as long as he was tall. As clothing rained on his
bed, Sturm gathered each item and folded it neatly into the
bag.
"No time for that," Carin declared. "Just fill the bag,
Sturm."
He threw a single woolen stocking aside. "Where are
we going, Mistress?" he demanded. "And why are we
going?"
Carin looked away. "The peasants," she said.
"The people of Avrinet? I don't understand. Father said
they were suffering from the hard winter, but - "
"There's no time for talk, young lord. We must hurry."
Carin shook her head and dug into the half-empty chest
again. "It's a terrible thing when people forget their place. . . ."
Sturm was still methodically folding every article of
clothing when the maid took it away from him and stuffed
in the last few remaining items.
"There," she said. "All done." She dragged the bag to
the door. "Someone will come for that. In the meantime,
finish dressing. Wear your heaviest cloak - the one with the
fur hood."
"Mistress Carin?" Sturm's lost tone halted the woman.
"Are you coming with us?"
She drew her short, round body up proudly. "Where my
lady goes, so go I." And then she was gone
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