Girem glanced over his shoulder as the wagon creaked along the trail.
Inside, the brat—that merchant's daughter—was still glued to Hazuki like a barnacle. Quiet now, but clearly refusing to leave his side.
He squinted, chewing slowly on his dried root stick, the wind tugging lightly at his beard.
Troublesome little lass.
Always talking. Always clinging.
What a pain.
Just because her father's one of the biggest merchants in the whole damn continent.
If he remembered right, she was the youngest daughter in that family. The spoiled one. He'd heard rumors, of course—how the old man doted on her more than the others.
Hmph. Wonder what business a merchant's brat like her has in a dwarven town anyway.
A diplomatic visit? Supply route check? Spoiled vacation?
Didn't matter.
Not my problem anyway.
He tugged the reins lightly, his beast mount grunting in rhythm as it pulled the wagon forward.
