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Part 3 - Knife In The Dark

 
"Not the time for that, Cuthred!" Rikard barked. "Unless you walked all this way just to be filleted. Grab your gear and go--there's time for questions on the other side of that hill." The nervous energy of the situation was manifesting itself as irritation in the swordsman's tone, and his eyes remained largely fixated on the tower stairs.

Cuthred's anger subsided and he took a step back from Bruide. "Sorry," he muttered, in a tone that indicated he was anything but.

The gear was sodden and twice as heavy. Cuthred picked up as much as he could carry that looked salvageable and a few things that didn't. There was too much racing through his mind to focus on anything but the most rote movement. Bend, pick up, bend, pick up, bend, pick up. When he'd grabbed all he could fit in his arms or over his shoulders, he started towards the hills with the others.




 

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