Turthold staggered forward a bit then stabled. HE didn’t appear too drunk, but he obviously had his share of ale. She dumped the contents of her money pouch into her hand. It was a good amount and she could get what was needed easily, and hopefully for a good price.
“I have a pack-horse remember,” informed Bregand before she started off. Absently counting her change she nodded and continued walking. Enough, she decided, just enough. She put the money back into her its pocket and clasped it shut.
“So,” she said to Turthol, who seemed to be recovering quickly from the beer. “What all do you think we should pick up.” He glanced sideways at her and shrugged, not wanting to start a conversation.
“Stuff we need,” he said curtly.
“Like—”
“Look, I’ll pick it up since I know what it is, and you just pay for it okay? I see you have enough.” She stopped and pulled him around to face her.
“Here now! I’m a part of the company too so you mind how you treat me. I’m not beneath you.” Turthol snickered silently and continued walking, shrugging off the place where she had grabbed him.
“Oh no,” she said following him, “don’t leave me. Tell me exactly what we need and I’ll give my opin—”
“I don’t want your opinion. What do you know about journeys?” Wren opened her mouth to answer but didn’t know what to say. She thought for a minute and replied,
“Well then teach me what you know.”
“Ha! You just watch and be quiet. You should learn enough.” Wren scowled and reluctantly followed the ranger to the first shop.
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"They call this war a cloud over the land. But they made the weather and then they stand in the rain and say, 'Sh*t, it's raining!'" -- Ruby, Cold Mountain
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