“Hope!”
The young scout came crawling out from a pile of hay in the corner of the stable to find a very tall, rather irritated looking witch looking down at her.
“Where is Nive?”
Hope gestured back at the hay. “Sleeping.”
“This is your notion of guarding a prisoner, is it?” Ayla looked down at the blue eyed scout with a certain indulgent humor.
“Well I know where she is,” Hope shrugged. “I think that counts.”
“Did you have that wound tended to as yet?”
“Haven’t had a chance,” Hope said. “I’ve been doing important guarding work.”
“You’ve been rutting,” Ayla said. “You two barely know one another.”
“We know each other rather well now,” Hope grinned unrepentantly. “Would you like me to get Princess Nive for you?”