Chapter 109: We Are Talking Business
The wind bit at Hannah's cheeks, sharp and clean, carrying the earthy tang of clover and the faint, briny scent of distant springs.
She sat tall on the front of the wagon, her travel boots braced against the wooden floor, her gloved hands loose in her lap.
The wagon rumbled over rutted dirt roads, its sides lined with stacked crates—each one a prototype wheelchair, carved from light oak and fitted with brass fittings, its wheels polished to a shine.
Beside her, Bart's broad shoulders shifted as he held the reins, his calloused fingers brushing the horse's neck as he guided the lead mare, Bess, forward.
"Been ages since we've been out proper," Bart said, his voice rough with satisfaction.
He nodded at the surrounding landscape.
Gorthmorde's farmlands stretching to the east, their green fields dotted with farmhouses, the occasional flock of geese waddling across a dirt path.
