xregicide-deactivated20140812:
Mordred grunts, his eyes fluttering open after a few seconds and he smiles. “Good morning” he mutters, moving into a sitting position “you didn’t have to.”
“Perhaps let me persuade him?” She sighs, scraping one hand back through her hair. “Na, ‘sdim ots. You’ve leave, and it’s early yet. If we go now, we’ll be there tomorrow noon.”
Mordred tongues his cheek. “Go grabs your things and meet me at the stables in an hour.”
“Yes, my lord,” she says obediently. That nagging feeling has grown stronger, and she moves through packing in a half-daze, straining her senses south and east. But there is nothing. Only the same feeling as before, of something wrong, of her twin in need.
She hurries to the stables, pack bouncing at her hip and dressed for hard riding. No pretty dresses, and a dagger at her waist, hair bound up firmly.