Lys: The Waiting

"Well." said Aithne, after a moment. "That's sobering."

She smoothed her skirt. "Ten years it's been. Ten years since I've done anything like that. I play at being a bard, Guttersnipe, but I am not a true one." She watched the people making their way elsewhere- gentle but sturdy women, and every man looking a warrior. She rubbed her arms, suddenly feeling a chill. "How long, do you think? How long before they arrive?"

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