The open dirt road was busy. Peasants hastened past, dragging protesting children along, while the richer strode loftily by, holding their heads high and peering distastefully at the poorer folk who proceeded along near them. Two hooded figures with a curiously large and intimidating cat with sharp, attentive yellow eyes hurried by, going in the opposite direction of the other people around them and keeping their heads down. Conversation was exchanged in hushed voices by them.
Guinevere, tugging her hood down a little further, observed the crowded road for the hundredth time and muttered to Darwin, "Why is there so many people around?" She nudged him accusingly. "You said this way was usually, if not almost always, empty."
"Yes, it is most of the time," Darwin responded in a mere whisper. "But they're going up to the town." He gesticulated over his shoulder to where Winchester Town stood up higher, on the slight slope of a hill, and Kenilworth Castle inhabited also. "But -" he paused, then reluctantly pressed on - "Quite a few wizards and witches were caught yesterday and I bet they're all rushing to witness the execution." Guinevere, near to him, watched him scowl angrily. "So bloodthirsty, these people!" He said irritably, and loudly too. He was glared at by those nearest, and Guinevere raised a finger to her lips.
"Shh, Darwin." Though fury stormed within her, deep inside. She felt a surge of sympathy for those poor witches and wizards, approaching the executioner with his sharp axe - she hastily stopped these gruesome thoughts and picked up Blaze to distract herself. "Good boy," she murmured, stroking the Kneazle affectionately. He purred, grateful for her pats.
With executions Guinevere's thoughts flitted back to her previous life, in that cottage day after day, being treated cruelly by her neighbors, living in fear of being hanged or burnt at the stake because her neighbors continued to proclaim her a witch. And she was one. She swallowed, and imagined the public's - including these people hastened by right now - reaction. Desperate for some other thought to busy her stressed mind, she asked randomly, "Where we will stay tonight, Darwin?"
She recalled last night, cold and freezing. Autumn was over, and Winter had arrived. Sleeping outside had been exceptionally difficult over the last few weeks, and fear of catching pneumonia had increased. Darwin meanwhile, had finished his moment's hesitation and now replied: "I think tonight it'll have to be in an inn. We can't sleep outdoors any longer."
"But how will we pay for it?" Guinevere inquired.
"You know I have a few coins," Darwin shrugged.
Guinevere frowned disapprovingly at him. "Yes, and that's really going to help," she said sardonically.
"Well then don't give me the responsibility of lodging ourselves!" Darwin said impatiently. He lapsed into an irritable silence, Guinevere with him. Finally, trying to push down her frustration, Guinevere said:
"We could just work to earn ourselves a night's accommodation," she suggested.
"That'll have to do," Darwin grumbled.
And the silence proceeded.