I nodded and followed Sem Partoldi out. We walked through the wet toward
the commons and several times I slowed my pace to match Sem Partoldi’s
lumbering roll. I welcomed the moist cool air and lifted my face to the
breeze curling off and on to the river. Finally, several steps ahead once
more I turned, impatient. “I may not reach Gamedon before I die of old
age at this speed.”
Sem Partoldi waved a dismissive hand. “I am at least 10 marks older, probably more. Wait and see."
“And 200 kilograms heavier.”
“Most of it is in my hair,” Sem Partoldi asserted and then waved again. “Go. Go ahead. Prepare the carc, or whatever you need to do. Surely there must be something.”
I called back as I strode off, “I’ll reconfigure the snare to assist your mount.”
Sem Partoldi said nothing more, but her emerald eyes gleamed deep below the surface.