The Donmagh Printing House and Library, which was consequently attached to Connor’s home, was a ten-minute walk from the center of Ashdown. The well-travelled dirt road ran from Crogdan’s Hold on the southern end of the continent and connected all the small villages, including Ashdown. It eventually joined with the king’s road, running East-West, and ended in Halsimarth—the capital.
Connor and Ree strode along the dirt road. The sun had already reached its zenith. By the time Connor had stuffed his mouth full of bread and oxenberry jam and chosen an appropriate outfit worthy of the printer’s son, well, he only had himself to blame for their slow departure. Ree appeared to have no other clothes than what she’d arrived in, including her heavy cloak, which remained firmly around her, now thankfully dry after a night hanging over the stove. A shame, given the heat. Trees, neatly planted decades ago, lined the road and gave some relief to the sun–but not enough…