Tor had a couple of weeks’ left of stores; more, if he was careful, if he took tiny slivers of dry cheese, if he broke up the hard biscuits into quarters.
And there was the bow and arrow, with which he’d become quite skilfull under Ark’s tutelage.
But somehow, he couldn’t face eating a rook, and few other birds passed the Tower.
There was a small kitchen …
Keep reading with a 7-day free trial
Subscribe to Womack's Wanderings to keep reading this post and get 7 days of free access to the full post archives.