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Bregoware
They found Sythric at last. A little beyond the southern edge of the village. And it seemed he had had a successful hunt. There were four chickens, dead, hung from a string from his saddle. ‘Good!’ she thought to herself. ‘At least we won’t be having any dried meat stews tonight!’
‘Where’s Osmod, Sythric?’ Rædwald asked, riding up along side Meghan. Sythric could give them no information; he had not seen either of the two men.
‘Perhaps we should try to catch up to them.’ Meghan looked from one to the other of the three. ‘The went south, didn’t they? Wouldn’t our greater number be more helpful against any foes they might encounter?’ She turned her mount southward. ‘They may already be in some sort of trouble; we really don’t know, do we.’ She kicked her horse lightly in the flanks and took off at a good pace.
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