Kara scraped her spoon across the bottom of the plate in an attempt to pick up the last few dregs of gravy without looking up at Adder. He’d spoken in barely a whisper, so that the White Cloak enforcers who stood no more than ten paces behind them, near the edges of the circled wagons, couldn’t overhear. They’d learned to keep certain conversations quiet and tried to be as circumspect as possible when they talked. She knew if she glanced up she’d find Adder half turned away, washing their dishes in the small bucket they were provided for the task. “Nothing.” She shoved the gravy into her mouth. She regretted eating the bread so quickly. Gravy was always better soaked into bread, even the passable but dry biscuits the White Cloaks provided them. She contemplated licking the plate. “Tim and Carter haven’t seen anything either.” She handed her plate to Adder with a broken smile, then sank back onto her pallet.
