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Bregoware
Rædwald
The horses were unattended as he led his own up to the perimeter of the camp. Were he a brigand or an Orc or even a hungry predator, they would be run off by now and probably one or more dead or injured badly.
By the bright fire crouched a young man. Fionn – yes, that’s who he would be. The man about as old as Meghan. He could see none of the others nearby. Rædwald spoke softly to the horses, and gathering them up by their leads, brought them in toward the fire.
Stepping out of the shadows at the edge of the camp he called out to the figure at the fire. ‘Where’s Mistress Meghan, Fionn? Rædwald’s my name. Her brother’s sent me to ride with you.’ He held out the horses’ leads to Fionn. ‘Might want to tether them in a little closer for the night, eh?’
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