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Trevarre only shrugged.
"Humph!" Matya snorted. "If this maiden of yours was
going to all this trouble to get rescued, she might have
given you dearer instructions."
Before Trevarre could reply, one of the wheels hit a
deep rut, and he winced as the wagon lurched roughly. He
was in better shape today than he'd been the night before,
but his face was still pale, and the roughness of the wagon's
ride obviously was causing him pain. He did not complain,
however.
Midmorning passed and noon approached, and still
Matya saw no sign of a road leading north from the
highway. Finally she pulled on the reins, and Rabbit came
to a halt. "It's time for a rest," she said.
She fastened a feedbag over Rabbit's muzzle, then found
food for herself and Trevarre. A jumble of massive, oddly
shaped granite boulders, warmed by the sun, lay next to the
road. The two sat on these as they ate a meal of cheese,
bread, and dried fruit. When they had finished, Matya
checked Trevarre's bandages. "Your hands are gentle,
though your tongue is sharp," said the knight, smiling at
her. Matya blushed, but ignored him and nodded in
satisfaction. The knight's wounds had closed, and none of
them showed signs of festering.
"We had best be on our way," she said, eyeing the sun,
which now shone directly overhead. She helped Trevarre
stand, offered him her shoulder to lean on. He smelled of
oiled steel and leather, not an unpleasant scent, she thought,
as the two started making their way back to the wagon
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