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her quiver was empty, and her horse was deeply unhappy. The Merry Men trained their steeds well, but even the finest horse had its limits, and could be excused a small tantrum when people kept trying to stab it.
“Gonna tie you to this,” he said. “And then Kit told me to tell you that he’ll bring you something to eat.” “This is a five-star abduction,” Clem said, noticing that her voice was a little ragged. “I’ll think of you next time I’m in the market.” “We aim to please,” said Baxter. “Do you want the blindfold off?” “I think you can safely assume that any blindfolded person would prefer it if you removed the blindfold.” “Right. I’ll remember that. Always looking for ways to improve our service.”
He left, and Clem watched him cross the camp, people shouting out to him in greeting as he went. He seemed popular, but it might just have been that he was tall.
she’d been pretty good at going with the flow, because she knew better than anyone that there was no point fighting it. Things would happen to you, both great and very terrible. You might as well make the most of them, when you could.
She acted like we’d eaten all her food, shat on the floor, and then asked for seconds.” “I wish,” said Baxter, wistfully glancing toward the kitchen. “Baxter,” Kit said, pained. “Don’t agree with that. There was a whole first half of that sentence.”
More people entered, not from down the staircase but from a different door entirely, and Clem’s brain emerged from its soup haze to wonder if there were other entrances elsewhere in the wood—more seemingly magical doors carved into trees that made no logical sense but were not to be questioned when going through them led to roast chicken.
