Riding Shotgun
A warm flickering light filled Cig's eyes when she opened them. A heavy quilt covered her, and her boots had been pulled off. Burning cherry wood filled the room with a warm fragrance.
"Here." The pretty woman whom she had surprised in the summer kitchen helped her sit up and handed her hot cider.
"Thank you." A few gulps reminded her that she hadn't eaten in hours. "I'm sorry to trouble you."
"Don't you recognize me?" The green eyes beckoned.
"No." Cig closed her eyes for a second. "Your voice sounds familiar."
"A hot meal will enliven your wits." The young woman had a small pot warming in the fireplace. She ladled out some porridge into a smooth wooden bowl and cut off a large slice of moist cornbread, placing a big square of fresh home-churned butter next to it.
Cig stood up. Her knees shook and buckled under her.
"Pryor!" The woman quickly put her hands under Cig's armpits and with surprising strength hauled her to her f ...
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