Wingate

[The handwriting begins shakily, but smooths out over time.]
 

Oct. 6

My nagging feeling was answered.

Clay tosses and turns on the straw-filled bed he was currently laying on before twisting to look toward the fireplace in the room. Soft snores came from beside him as Ashnell slept, ever on guard in case Brikan or even worse horrors came to find Clay as he slept. Even if the room had not been asked about there were many that wished to keep the boy safe and sharing a bed was the far least of his troubles. The heat of the fire never seemed to warm the bed anyway. 

Mother,
 I know it has been a long time since I have written to you. Forgive me that. I have been with a collection of friends. I admit the trouble I have gotten into with them would make you give the sour face you had any time you caught me playing jests on the men of the camp. I will not go into detail for now. In a later letter to you I will write about all the trouble I have found myself in. I hope to have you meet Sir Maddoct, Sir Ramsay and, Sir Ashnell if you ever find a way to visit. You would enjoy their company greatly.

Ecladhreth flings himself out of the chair and rushes for the kitchen door his feet slipping before he makes it out. He hits the stairs and gets up the sound of boots behind him. He  whistles for his mare and climbs on her as soon as she is close the feeling of a hand grabbing for his belt causing him a bit of panic. He nudges her into a hard gallop and holds on as he rushes towards the gate, the sound of hooves behind him. He makes it out and heads towards the fields where Wyetta has gone earlier.