Later, at the spring, while Lucien washed each item of clothing and hung it from branches to dry, Edgar whistled tunes to keep him amused.
“Of course, this would go a lot quicker if you helped me,” said Lucien.
“What help would I be? I’d be getting in your way. It’s only a small spring.”
“Yes,” said Lucien, rolling his eyes. “Luckily for you.”
He’d commenced washing the final garment when he thought he heard someone say “hello.” It didn’t sound like Edgar’s voice, but he looked over his shoulder at his companion regardless.
“What did you say?”
Edgar looked at him blankly. “I didn’t say a word. Not even I can whistle and speak.”
“Hello,” called the voice.
This time, it was accompanied by the snapping of twigs and heavy footfall.
Lucien leapt to his feet as a tall, stocky man in tat
