![]() I’d been at Blackthorn with Tom, searching for the few copies of my master’s journals we hadn’t yet been able to find. It had happened yesterday, late afternoon-at least I think it was yesterday I’d lost track of time in the jails. But then I didn’t even know why I’d been arrested. This was the third time they’d moved me since I’d been captured. My heart thudded, keeping time with each bang and shudder. I lay in the back, wrists and ankles clamped in chains that jingled with the wagon’s rise and fall. ![]() The cart thundered down the road, bumping on the cobblestones, the wood rattling my bones. I gasped, drawing what air I could through the fabric. The hood that bound my head was canvas, so my only light was what filtered through the weave. ![]()
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