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Bregoware
The words swirled around her, it seemed, lost to her ears and yet not to her mind. Eostre forced herself to focus on what was being said, distrusting of the people around her (for what would one expect of a woman unmarried by choice?). Osmond's eyes seemed to linger on hers for a far longer length of time than the other riders, though his words were hardly directed to anyone in particular.
"...Our mission is indeed urgent but we need to spend our energy wisely, it will not do to push ourselves harder than what we can manage... I would advise we get going at sunrise so that we get to the rafts and cross the river by noon tomorrow..."
Waiting until the other girl had finalized her reply, Eostre spoke up in a vaguely tired tone. "It would, yes, be better if we were off far earlier in the morrow. Time is of essence, but I doubt any of our group wishes to die of exhaustion rather than the sword." An ignominous fate that would be, she thought to herself. But what had left the other girl to abandon conversation that fast? Was she untrusted by more than just their leader as his lingering eye contact seemed to suggest?
"I crossed the river once before," she said in response to Meghan's remark. "But it was a few years back now. 'Tisn't hard, if that's what you fear."
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