The evening market of the Sixth smelled of fried root cakes and roasted chestnuts, its stalls crowding the road between the guildhall and the public well.
Hajin had reached town with the returning field party that afternoon, leaving Juna's recovered bell with the scouts before Eirwen took his unfinished report away.
"Hans can read your handwriting better when you stop adding things in the margin."
She folded the page along its existing crease, setting it beneath the empty cup on his desk.
He looked at the cloak she was already holding.
"You had a destination ready."
"Several, depending on whether you complain about the first one."
Now she walked beside him beneath the lanterns, her silverwood bow left with their gear and her fingers resting against the sleeve below his right forearm.
A vendor shook his pan of chestnuts over the coals, sending sparks upward while two children argued over whose turn came next.
