Once Father Claud stopped yammering about going home, their trip went quicker, following the road south. She said they could sneak behind Friege and stalk the coastline, but worried Claud did things straight-laced; fathers knew best.
Maybe if they had followed her advice, they wouldn't be caught in the rain in their frumpy cloaks, hidden under scraggly trees. Probably, maybe, but if rain was a deterrent, they'd get nowhere. "You're looking grumpy, Claud," she said.
Finally letting go of his Fortify, Claud adjusted his dark green cloak, hiding his usual white. Draped well on him, she still saw the breadth of his shoulders. "I dislike the rain."
"You and everyone else!" She held her hand out, droplets splashing on her hand. "We could get a carriage. I don't think the Crusaders would mind."
"It's not about the Crusaders, child," Claud sighed, his first of the day. "I am…chilly."
"Chilly!" she exclaimed. "How thin is your frock?" It was summer! Friege summers were nothing, but she was used to it. Claud of Edda wasn't. "You want mine?"
He blinked; quickly, his eyes dropped from her eyes then back up. Her stomach flopped. "Thank you, but no. I doubt it would fit."