The rain had turned the road to mud, a cold, relentless drizzle that seeped through cloaks and chilled bones. Uhtred's band was a grim, silent procession, heads bowed against the weather. Finan, riding beside Uhtred, was the first to see her. A lone figure standing beside a broken-down cart, a horse grazing miserably nearby. As they drew closer, he saw the sword strapped to her back, the confident set of her shoulders despite her predicament. Her hair, the colour of rich earth, was plastered to her head by the rain, curling just at her shoulders. When she turned to watch their approach, her eyes were a startling, clear blue, sharp and assessing. She didn't look afraid.