"This must be what hell feels like," Bran thought to himself the next morning as he lay in bed. Despite injunctions by Belinda, T'k'l'k did wear him out. Bran did not normally walk that much, and he could already feel vestigial blisters blossoming across his feet while muscles he thought he hadn't even used hurt.
He awoke to find another note from Belinda slipped under his door, inviting him to another walk. He wearily wrote back explaining that he needed some time to recover and would try to join them for supper.
Stiffly, he walked down to the private dining room and stared blankly at the table while servants brought out breakfast.
Footsteps could be heard moving stridently down the hall. Bran looked slowly up, mentally preparing himself for Imogen. He was surprised to see...
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