Chapter One
Tam Dappleward shucked off his boots. The creek burbled at his feet, clean and cold. A wash, a shave, clean clothes, and then home. Home. After five months, home.
He pulled his stained, faded tunic over his head, and began peeling out of his fraying hose—and stopped as his ears caught the scuff of footsteps on the road. I’m in Glade Forest now. There are no outlaws here. But even so . . .
Tam pulled up his hose and reached for his stave. The donkey stopped cropping grass and lifted her head, ears pricked, alert.
Together, they watched a figure come into view between the trees. Tam’s tension eased. Just a lad, slim, youthful, and alone, with a small sack slung over his shoulder.
Tam put down the stave. “I give you good day,” he called out.
The lad jerked around, eyes wide
