“Father went looking, and found you.” Sharl cast a wry look out the window. “He said he waited until the guards took a nap, so they’re fine, don’t worry.”
That was not nearly as reassuring as Will had probably meant it to sound. “Guards.” Hank leaned back against the headboard, trying not to tense. “It’s been two months, and no one’s come looking?”
“Father kept you out of sight in his cargo harness while his escort walked him north the next day,” Sharl said, almost innocently. “They stopped a few towns later for some drinks. Father just took off and kept flying.” A glint of rueful humor, so like William’s. “He’s sorry about the sheep, but he needed to get you to help as fast as he could.”
She was putting up a good front, but from that slight hunch of her shoulders-
And the shift in her scent, how can I read that, it took me months to know my unit that well–
-Sharl was expecting blistering fury. And why not? The herders and farmers she knew likely counted every head of livestock twice a night, jealous of their income, and sometimes their pure survival.
Soldiers were a little more flexible. Not that they were supposed to be, but William and a lot of the unit just couldn’t eat hardtack. Hell, no one ate hardtack. You just wrapped your throat around it and endured. “I hope you left the wool this time,” Hank said plainly. He slid Sharl a wink. “Your father with a hairball is the most pathetic looking dragon ever. Miles had to mix up something with fish oil, and I don’t want to remember the gory details.”