Page 21 of A Knight in Tarnished Armor

She shifted away. "I find it is pleasant, sleeping under the sky. Unless it rains. That wouldn't be pleasant I imagine."

He took a deep breath. "It's not going to rain."

"How do you know that?"

"The sun did not rise red."

"Oh." She paused, then asked, "Does that mean it will rain, when the sun rises red?"

"Aye."

"I see." She rustled underneath her mound of blankets and turned on her side toward him.

He could feel her stare and glanced at her.

"How do you know that a red sunrise means rain?"

He sighed. "Experience."

She was blessedly quiet. He closed his eyes and relaxed. His breath was even and he was almost asleep.

"I've been thinking . . ."

He stifled the urge to groan.

"What does it mean if the sun sets red?"

"Nothing."

"But if the sun rises red and that means it will rain, it stands to reason that the sun setting red must mean something also." She paused, then added, "But the sun always sets red so it would not change anything or mean anything. And if the sun always sets red, then doesn't it always rise red too?"

"Goodnight."

"Oh. Yes, I suppose you are tired, riding all this way, rescuing Swithun, fighting knights, barking orders ..."

He lifted his head and turned back to see her smiling. Exasperated, he dropped his head back on the pillow and said, "And listening to cats screech. Ducks quack."

"And me talk?" He could hear the laughter in her voice.

"Aye, and listening to you talk."

"Goodnight, William," she said so sweetly if he could hear that every night for the rest of his life he would die a happy man. He closed his eyes.

A few moments later she sighed. "I'll say a prayer that it doesn't rain."

"Go to sleep without a care, my lady. It is not going to rain."

"Well." She sighed again. "If you're certain."

"I am more than certain. I'll lay my life on it."

"I'd say your life is fairly worthless about now," Linnet said to William with a slight smile. The comment earned her a rather pointed glare.

It had been raining for over two hours. After the first five minutes, the cats had started screeching and the ducks quacking. William and Linnet sat huddled beneath the dripping blankets he'd spread over some tree branches while he muttered something about bed hangings after all. Linnet had questioned him but he had not answered.

‘Twas a soggy shelter to say the least, as soggy as her velvet pillows which were floating a few feet away in muddy puddles. "I certainly wish I had brought those tent sticks," Linnet said, thoughtfully.

The cats screeched again and the ducks kept quacking.