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Bronwen glanced at her sidelong. “Indeed.”
Manon eyed the Crochan. “You lead your
witches well.”
“The Ironteeth have long given us an
excuse to be highly trained.”
Something like shame washed through her
again. She wondered if she’d ever find a way
to ease it, to endure it. “I suppose we have.”
Bronwen didn’t reply before peeling off
toward the small fires.
But as Manon went in search of Glennis’s
own hearth, the Crochans looked her way.
Some tipped their heads toward her. Some
offered grim nods.
She saw to it that the Thirteen were tending
to their hands, and found herself unable to sit.
To let the weight of the day catch up to her.
Around them, around each fire, Crochans
argued quietly on whether to return home or
head farther south into Eyllwe. Yet if they