34
“Astolpho!” Bradamante called as she and Jara hurried closer to the two tents. “Michaela!”
The light around them was gray. Dusk would be falling soon. Clouds had rolled over the pass in the last few hours, signaling a return to the rain.
But the air smelled cleaner here. Bradamante didn’t realize until she was away from the center of camp how foul the stench was there. The brown and bloody liquid flooding out of the men’s bodies…
“You don’t think they’re both… sick?” Jara asked.
A pain swept over Bradamante’s chest. She crouched in front of Astolpho’s tent and shoved the flaps apart.
Empty. She checked Michaela’s tent, too. No clothes, no blankets, nothing.
“Where were they going?” Bradamante asked.
“They never told me,” Jara said. Her voice shook. She hugged her arms around her
