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Chapter Thirteen

With the decision of the nine’s journey now a quest to break Anther’s curse, they don’t feel the need to linger any longer than the morning; all of them quick to break their small camp and make preparations to ready themselves for what may lie ahead.

Torra and Eidan headed into the market to trade and barter with the townsfolk for supplies while he, Ríenn and Morak had headed to the blacksmith on the edge of the town, coin in hand, having hoped that they would be able to find something that would make the journey easier—considering the sheer weight of the packs and supplies needed to be carried and knowing that he was far stronger than the equine beasts.

No one questioned why Anther wanted to keep his truth a secret from the villagers. Neither did they question it when Perrin had ventured for a name, Anther rolling his bottom lip between sharp teeth having only been brave enough to tell them, “Obí,” and the matter settled as quickly as deciding they were going to break his curse with only the barest confusion from each and a sharp scowl from Thæon.

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