Vinsenz was grating heavily on the driver's nerves, and the beleaguered old man whispered under his breath, asking what he did to the gods to deserve this sort of treatment. Fortunately, they were there, they were parked in front of the bunkhouse, and the irritating man would be out of his life forever after they had eaten dinner and the driver was back on his way with others. The driver spoke, trying to keep his voice as even as humanly possible. "We checked the wheel already, sir. I'm sure it'll be at least okay until I get back to As'nar, at which time I will definitely get it replaced, or at least thoroughly checked. Now, if you please, get your things out of the cart so the men returning to the City can pack up for the return trip."
Meanwhile, Draea had claimed a bed in the bunkhouse and was finished bringing her stuff in. Still scowling, the warrior crossed the yard with quick, angry strides, snatched up two of her mother's bags, and spun away, not saying a word to Vinsenz or the cart driver or even seeming to notice them, caught up as she was in her hatred of this place, this mission, and her stupid, cowardly, blind old mother.
The driver watched her go, whistling softly as she left hearing range. "That girl's a looker, no doubt about that," he mumbled. "But she looks like she's about to kill someone."