The gusting wind pushed against the high panels of the wagon. It rocked gently. Ki lay awake, listening to the small creakings of the cuddy. A grey wash of dawn light filtered in the cracked shutter. She struggled to sit up in the welter of blankets and sleeping furs, and leaning precariously over the edge of the sleeping platform, peered out the little window. The big grey horses stood with their rumps to the wind that streamed their heavy tails and manes. They grazed peacefully in the windstorm, cropping the sweet grass of the rolling hillside.
‘It’s morning,’ Ki said, nestling back into the blankets.
‘So what?’ grumbled Vandien.
‘We’ve not a coin between us, and a wagonload of pregnant skeel.’
‘Will any of that change by noon?’ Vandien asked.
‘No.’ Ki surrendered to the comfort of the bed and her own aching muscles. Vandien’s body was warm against hers. An idea slowly grew in her mind.
‘Your scar,’ she began lazily. ‘You really wish I couldn’t see it?’
‘Ki,’ Vandien groaned in protest. ‘Let it be. I was a fool. Let us pretend to forget it. Can we go on as if we had never been to Temple Ebb?’
‘No.’ Ki trailed a slow finger down his chest. ‘For I know a way to make you forget it. A way I can’t see it.’
Vandien sank into a sulky silence at the levity in her tone. A moment later he oofed the air out of his lungs as Ki’s body landed squarely atop his. He found himself nose to nose with her. He blinked, but couldn’t focus his eyes at such close range. A single green eye appeared to peer down into his.
‘When we are like this,’ Ki said conversationally, ‘I cannot see your scar.’
Wind whispered under her wagon, filling the long silence.
‘Scar?’ Vandien wondered aloud.
The wind rocked the wagon.