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| "The town’s main street was the dirtiest, smelliest and most crowded place they had ever seen in their lives." |
After an hour of waiting Banac was beginning to grow restless. He sat at the edge of the clearing with his knees drawn up to his chest, looking down into the valley, watching for any sign of the white-skinned figure returning.
“Where is he?” he muttered, half to himself. “He should have been back by now.”
Balor looked up from where he was collecting mushrooms on the far side of the clearing.
“He’ll come back,” he said, unconcerned.
“I don’t know,” said Banac. He looked out again. Balor seemed to have forgotten that somewhere down there Father was being held, probably in a dungeon filled with rats. It rankled Banac that he had to sit up here waiting for Haemel to return, when by rights he should be down there, rescuing Father.
He sat for a while longer, shifting his weight whenever his legs began to fall to sleep. The incessant splashing of the waterfall behind him had begun to grate on his nerves. He tried to think of something else, to imagine something other than Father rotting in a cell, but in the end he could wait not longer.
“I’m going down,” he said, standing and brushing himself down.
