‘What’s wrong with you?’ Dariand snapped, as Saria stumbled yet again. ‘Nothing. I’m just tired.’ ‘I don’t see why. You slept all day.’ Even through her fatigue it took some effort to stop herself smiling. If Dariand only knew. Of course now, as they marched nightwards away from Olympic, she was paying the price of her daylight independence. The full water-skin which Dariand had slung across her back was heavy, chaffing at her neck and shoulder, and her legs and feet had swelled so the leather thonging of her shoes bit into her calves. The exhaustion that usually set in late in their evening’s walking had come much earlier tonight, sped up by lack of sleep. And the little rest she’d had during the day had been strange, too, disturbed and interrupted by dreams – the memory of the dog’s terror triggered vivid nightmares which left her sweating. When Dreamer Gaardi had shaken her awake in the early evening, Saria felt as though she’d barely been to sleep. Her eyes were filled with grit and her back and neck ached from the hard ground.
