He didn’t know. Beyond the carousel, the foliage grew even thicker, strangling the path until the travellers edged along single-file, like lost children in a fairy-tale wood. “There are no oxen in Hambry. I’ll look there when I can.
And, she supposed, it really hadn’t been such a bad idea; if nothing else, it had kept the worst of her megrims away. Before she could even begin to fire her muscles, the distant spark had swelled to a searing wolf’s eye of light that flooded the stream and the clearing with its glare. His knuckles rose and fell like the heddles of a loom. Thank you.
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