They stopped for the night in the next village, even though it was barely afternoon and the castle could be seen on a hill in the middle distance. Oren said they needed time to prepare. His version of preparing was to take a pint of ale into the garden behind the inn and snooze. Mara stayed in the room she and Anne were sharing, laying her knives out on the table by the window and pulling a cleaning cloth and Whetstone from her bag.
Anne went back downstairs, where Xavier was trading news and gossip with a motley collection of fellow travellers and locals.
She tapped him on the shoulder. “I’m going for a walk.” He nodded, more interested in the tale being spun by an old man with a scraggly beard and worse teeth.
The old man paused in his story to say. “Go right for the village green or left for the river. I dare say you’ll find company either way.”
Xavier sniggered, then asked.” And what way for solitude? My friend’s the unsociable sort.”
Now all eyes were on her, assessing, wondering…
The old man snorted. “Girl with your looks? I suppose the attention grates after a while.”
Anne half-shrugged.” I like peace and quiet. Figured it would be good to get a dose now, there’ll be precious little at the castle.”
Xavier added.” And you’re not allowed to stab the nobles.”
“I am if they get handsy.” Anne left the building and turned towards the river.
The DNA of Stories 