"Any idea how long it'll take you?" George asked securing a saddlebag to Moonlight's load.
"A month, maybe two. I don't know, it depends on how sociable he's feeling; it might take me that long just to find him." Alanna shoved a dagger into the outer side of her riding boot and adjusted her scabbard and sword, then walked over to George entwining her fingers with his. Unexpectedly he pulled her to him and caught her lips in a passionate kiss, the effect of which causing her to resemble a slightly limp noodle. "What are you going to do while I'm away?" She asked playing with the rings on his hands.
"Oh, I won't be bored. Jon's made sure o' that. I'll be in Tyra. I'm to see what they think of what's happenin' in Tortall. Jon's afraid some people will take his coronation bein' sabotaged as a message of weakness; he's just paranoid."
"Well at least you won't be bored."
He gave her a final firm kiss on the lips before releasing her.
She climbed onto Moonlight in one fluid motion and kicked her into a gallop; "See you soon!" She called back.
"Happy huntin'" he called after her.
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The ride was short; Moonlight was a good horse, rarely tiring and Alanna had a tumult of thoughts plaguing her head. Immersed in her memories she barely noticed as the land steadily became less sandy and barren and the temperature began to drop raising goosebumps on her bare arms. The first sign's of normal land being a forest of brambles that led onto several tufts of grass and pathetic tree's dotted here and there, Alanna made fast progress and was soon approaching the border of Scanra. There were now fields of grass for Moonlight to graze and forests of trees framing the dusty road she was on, how long have I been out of the desert? She thought, as she readied her small campsite a little way into the woods on the left of the road and grudgingly substituted her desert attire for warmer more practical clothes. She fell asleep under 'The Cat', feeling more safe under it's twinkling watchful eyes than in the secluded world within her tent. Her routine remained this way for the several nights she spent during the ride to the Scanran border. She was unsure whether she was disgruntled or relieved that it went without mishap –as George would say- or without incident.
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"Stop!" The guardsman surveyed her telltale Tortallan features then accused, "You're not Scanran." His accent was rough and southern; hard to understand, "What business do you have in these parts?"
"I'm here to bring a Tortallan scoundrel back for execution, I've had permission. My name is Sir Alanna of Trebond and Olau, King Jonathon of Tortall sends me to help your King rid his country of the thief and rapist Claw." She recited tiredly.
"Right," he said sarcastically, his gaze wandering to her chest, "Sir Alanna of Trebond and Olau, whatever you say Miss." He made no move to let her by.
"Okay," she said with a forced fake smile, "I've been riding for five days, me and my horse are tired," she pulled her sword from its sheath sweeping it around to threateningly rest at the guardsman's vulnerable neck. "You're going to let me past, you're going to direct me in a very polite and genuine manner to the nearest inn and then you're going to apologise for being a male chauvinistic pig."
"Brinar!" He yelled, his voice wavering with unease at the position of Alanna's sword.
A young man stumbled out of a small hut; he looked as though he had just woken up. He dragged his sword at his side brandishing his fist as he ran up to them, then as a second thought pointed his sword at Alanna with thin shaking arms from ten paces distance. "Drop the sword!"
"Are you kidding me?" Alanna asked her hostage in disbelief, "You're asking this idiot to save you?" Moonlight whinnied as though in agreement; "No wonder you people couldn't catch Claw."
"Oh." The young man said stupidly. "You're Alanna of Tortall?"
"Finally."
"We got a message that you were coming. You can pass."
"Why the hell didn't I get the message!" the guardsman yelled at his young companion when Alanna had withdrawn her sword from it's threatening position and had sheathed it once again.
"Excuse me?" she interrupted. The guardsman looked at her immediately not desiring to test her patience any more than her temper. She looked directly at him, "You were going to tell me something?"
"Uh…" he scratched his head then his face lit up in triumphant remembrance, "The nearest inn is the Hogswallow Inn, just follow this road, it's on the right; you can't miss it."
"And…?"
"And… I apologise for being difficult."
"And for being a chauvinistic pig." She said dangerously.
"And for being a chauvinistic pig." He repeated in a submissive tone.
"Good." She smiled.
Feeling better, Alanna trotted past the two men who resumed their squabbling and headed down the road toward Hogswash Inn, her skin tingling at the anticipation of a hot bath.