The road began with an argument about a kettle.
Korl wanted it under the front bench. Maret wanted it where a person could reach it without unloading the food. Tavin listened to both, lifted the kettle and put it in the side box between the cooking cloths and the little fuel tin.
“There.”
Maret examined the space.
“That works.”
Korl looked offended on principle, then admitted the lid would not rattle there.
Iven climbed onto the rear carrier bed with his tool roll between his feet and felt the small lift in his chest that came whenever a journey finally became movement.
They left Sedge Ladder on the morning they had named.
