He had heard nothing. She confided in me yesterday. The last thing that she remembered was her eyes crossing as she tried to focus upon the crunch of leaves as she lay heaving upon them, dampening them further with the outpouring of her sweat as it leaked from her clothing. ‘Have you any more pretty toys like that knife about you?’ ‘The girl’s a regular arsenal,’ Hilary snapped, giving up into his senior’s hand the nasty little weapon he had snatched. Then she uttered a strangled, ‘Espéce de bête!’ and burst into tears. The stags and oxen and things all have to fight for us, everywhere.
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