SIXTEEN
This time when Vasco climbed down from the roof, he felt the weariness of the long day's work. But a good day's work. A good week's work, truth be told. He had repaired walls, replaced beams, and Kun's cottage now had a completely new roof. She also had a year's worth of firewood – the remains of the trees Vasco had cut down which had been suitable for nothing but burning. And yes, he'd chop that into suitable lengths for her, too.
He hadn't quite shaken that prickly feeling of being watched, but he'd learned to ignore it. Kun spent most of her time in her cottage, not outside it watching him, and as he'd seen no one else, he concluded that his watchers must be birds. For what novelty could there be in a man rebuilding a house, except for the woman who lived there?
He paused to
