Chapter Eight
It was noon by the time they reached the king’s forest. “Best if you change into that tunic and hose again,” Tam said. “Just in case.”
Hazel nodded silently.
Tam cut her a stout, strong stave while she changed. His bruised knuckles were stiff, making it awkward to wield the knife.
Hazel emerged from behind a tree. The brown hood covered her long hair.
“Another fifteen miles to Glade Forest,” Tam said, handing her the stave. “Five hours. Four, if we hurry.”
Hazel nodded again.
They walked fast. The road wound its way through the forest, rutted and dusty. Every hundred yards or so, Hazel cast a glance back over her shoulder. Her expression was anxious, a frown pinching between her eyebrows. She’s worried about pursuit.
“They’ll not come after us.”
“They might.” Her pac
