Stupid, to keep running until he was completely worn out. Now he’d have to sit and rest, and that would lose more time than if he’d walked the last mile. He groped at his pocket to make sure the box was still there, then sat down with his back to the rail, looking back the way he’d come. He remembered – what was his name? Thin man with a turkey neck, lived outside Lower Town. He ran away with the wife of Rensa the wheelwright, many years ago. They went up on the moors, everybody reckoned he must’ve had some half-baked idea of heading for Spire Cross, but of course Rensa and his brothers caught up with them both and they ended up dead in a bog pool. A bit fairy tale, the doomed lovers running through the heather with Rensa’s hounds at their heels, but when you thought about it clearly, just stupid. They must’ve known they’d never get away with it, but they went ahead anyway. For love. Stupid. He pulled off his right boot and shook it out, dislodging a few coins and a small silver brooch.
What do You think about The Two Of Swords: Part 12?
