"Maybe I will, if your old boat is faster than little ol' me!" Mildemaer taunted jokingly, taking off down the road. Her hound chased her clumsily, almost tripping over itself more than once.
Deep within the girl bubbled a new feeling, a blossoming happiness at making a friend. Among most of the townsfolk she was considered quite an outsider, strange and detestable, and though some had warmed up to her with time it was rare to find anyone she could relate to. As the stone walls of Cirencester proper came into view, Mildemaer saw peasants wading into the river shallows in search of mussels and seasoned sailors untying their boats for the day ahead, as the dawn sun peaked through the otherwise gray sky.