“Yeah!” Mordraud took a long stick from the woodshed and ran into the forest with Gwern. His brother scurried behind while he crept into the dense vegetation. Low stumpy trees, patches of thorny bushes and clumps of ivy concealed logs smothered in broad fungus dishes. Mordraud was explaining everything Eglade had passed on to him on their walks, when Gwern was not yet born. When he noticed his brother was getting bored, he stopped talking about plants and told him a light-hearted Aelian story. Eglade had taught him many, during their long evenings alone at home. They had no friends. Mordraud was at times driven as far as the village, but when his mother fell ill he would no longer risk venturing far from home. And he never went when he was with Gwern. They didn’t like the way people looked at them. He often realised he was being watched. It was usually the women around the well, pointing as they whispered to each other. On certain occasions, Mordraud had noticed a man with a nondescript face sitting outside a tumbledown house.
