Prudence

Prudence rolls off her pallet slowly and reluctantly. Sometimes old patterns - up late, then up late - are hard to break. She does the usual checklist of the traveller - have I been robbed, am I itching all over, am I hung over, is last night's stew giving me the morning runs? - and is delighted that the answers are all negative. In fact, she vaguely recalls that the local brew was sweet, clear and occasionally purchased by hopeful farm boys.

Changing into her travel clothes, Prudence carefully stows her night clothes and cleared the room for breakfast. Smiling at the (equally bleary) landlady, she signalled for breakfast - whatever breakfast would turn out to be - and thought about how much she had to do before meeting up with Feathers.