The girl Nan was there, too, kneeling over Sir Gerald to carefully put some kind of salve on his wound. She did not look up when he entered, but her dog immediately began to bark. It did not stop until she made that noise again, the quick huffing hiss of a sound that reduced the barking to little more than a canine grumble.

“Godmanchester is but a day’s journey on the old north road,” Alfred said when he could be heard again. He held out a length of rough wool. “You will find finer cloth there, but this I give you gladly to keep off the chill of morning, until you may purchase better.”

Gryff took it and thanked him. He supposed this meant that Nan had agreed to let him accompany her to Lincoln. She did not look up at him, though. She only went about her business, sharing out a portion of the unguent into a smaller jar. Gryff looked away from the sight of her smoothing the knight’s hair from his brow, the fond look she gave him, and turned to his own pallet.

Alfred talked on – about the road, the market, the need to bathe here as the inn at Godmanchester never seemed able to provide any but the filthiest water. Gryff sat, exhausted at the thought of walking for a full day tomorrow. He had taken his evening meal of porridge outside, after an afternoon of exercising the goshawk had left him too tired to make his way back here.

The dog appeared at his feet just as Alfred was bidding them goodnight.

“Will you sleep with me again, Bran?” He whispered it, ashamed of how much he wanted it. Embarrassing enough to crave the comfort and warmth of it, but he knew what he wanted most was the security in knowing the dog would act as guard and wake him if anyone entered while he slept. Just for now, he promised himself. Soon he would be himself again.

Bran stayed where he was and it was a long time until Gryff realized the girl had left without his noticing, as silent as ever. He looked to find a small sack of almonds waiting for him in the place where he would lay his head.

“None for you, little Bran,” he said, and turned his attention to eating all that he could while there was still food to be had. Then he slept.

In the hour before dawn he woke with a jerk of alarm and struck out at the figure that hovered over him. It was instinct, and a bad one – if he were still tied to a tree among the thieves, they would have beaten him bloody for lashing out. But he was not among the thieves, nor tied by rope. It was the girl again. Nan.