Several quiet minutes passed. Little by little, the color returned to her cheeks and her eyes grew clearer.
“More please.” She reached for the canteen.
“I can help.”
“I’ve got it now.”
He handed it to her.
She took a good long drink. When finished, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “Better.”
She looked around the campsite, from the canvas overhead, to the smoking fire, to the pile of ready weaponry, to the tethered horses nearby. “Where are we?”
He hesitated. “Ahhh . . . what do you remember?”
“I— We— Weren’t we going somewhere?”
“You wanted to go back home.”
“That’s right. You thought your mother would be worrying for you.”
“My mother?” Her eyes narrowed. Then, slowly, she nodded. “Yes, of course, I’m going home.”
He smiled weakly.
Suddenly she became agitated. “Goodness, we’d best hurry if we’re going to make it down the mountain before nightfall.”
He grasped her forearm. “No, it’s all right. Relax.”
“But we have to hurry.”
He chuckled. “It’s no problem. We’ve been here for days.”
“Yes, it was a few days ago that—”
“Days?” she interrupted. “What happened?”
“I suppose you might as well have asked earlier, ‘when’ are we?” he said, grinning.
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