|
‘Left here, Midge!’ Tolly tightened the rein in his left hand and flicked the loose right against his sturdy grey pony’s flank. Midge, for his part, twitched his ears and angled left, though his slow even pace did not increase in the least.
‘We’ll rest up here, lad,’ Tolly went on. This was his last delivery – two small casks of smoked fish, one of trout, the other perch. He was much looking forward to a pint of the inn’s fine ale and a nice feathered bed to sleep in for the night. Camping out along the road, living out of the back of his wagon was getting a bit old.
He pulled the wagon round to the inn’s side door, the one just past the garden, intending to bring his wares in. A movement on the far edge of the cabbages caught his eye and he craned his neck, narrowing his eyes to see better.
|