Purple. I'm remembering more details now. The battle-witches of this world wear purple. The color is rare and only the elite seers wear it.
What happens when they realize I'm not a battle-witch?
The thought makes my head pound. I touch it gingerly.
"You are unwell?" the Red Knight asks.
"Drank too much wine last night."
"Ah. A common ailment." He waves over one of the three men waiting in the area between the bridge and forest. "Come." He starts down his side of the bridge.
I glance over my shoulder, noticing for the first time how the mists hanging in the branches of trees on the Black Moon Draw side of the bridge are absent in White Tree Sound. There are birds on this side of the forest, and it smells of pine. The forests are different - one alive and one dead - yet divided only by a stream. It's sunny on this side of the stream, too.
This is too weird. I need time to think or maybe to get rid of my headache first because thinking is too difficult right now.
Trailing the Red Knight off the bridge, I pass the three guards waiting for him and follow him onto a deer trail. We don't walk far and stop on a rustic road hedged by trees. A shoebox looking, wooden wagon with four horses out front and a driver waits in the middle of the road.
Another guy in white opens the door for the Red Knight, who sweeps off his cape before climbing in. I get in as well and sit opposite him. There's a trunk between the two benches and a lantern hanging from the low ceiling in the center whose light doesn't reach the corners of the wagon.
The wooden benches are covered by pillows. It's warmer in here and I rub my upper arms to help warm me.
"'Tis a half day ride to my hold," he tells me. "You are hungry?"
I nod.
He taps the trunk. The top slides off as if by magic and he reaches into its depths to lift a tray of food: jerky, cheese, bread, and whole fruit. A pitcher and two stocky goblets are present as well.
Another tap and the trunk slides closed.
"Eat," the Red Knight urges me. "The moon apple is a specialty of my lands." He holds up a white apple.
"Thanks." I accept it and put it in my lap. I'm not much of one for apples. Bread, though, is my weakness, as evidenced by my thighs, and I grab a piece. "You said you've been waiting for me?"