Status Updates From A Curse Dark As Gold

I regarded the straw in the cart. We should have to carry it all, armload by armload, up three flights of stairs through the mill. At least the mill was empty; we could work in relative secrecy, without the eyes of Shearing gossip watching us. Finally, after dozens of trips up and down that left my legs rubbery, and another half hour of sweeping up the straw we'd dropped along the way, the garret room was full.