Outside of Sunspear

"Are you sure about this?" Her escort seemed worried all of a sudden. "You should have had a proper escort, m'lady."

"It's not that. But you're a highborn lady and I joined the guard less than a year ag<" the boy confided.

As yet, they weren't far from the city, its walls looming large behind the. But Daenya knew that the alarm would be raised at some point, and when that happened, there would be pursuit. She was too valuable for the Dornish to let her out without permission and a proper guard.

He looked blankly at her with the ignorance of the uneducated. "What's the Summer Isles? Is it in the Stepstones? Or beyond the Marches?" He kept pace with her, but was definitely agitated.

He grinned at her. "But how could you? Do you have a boat? I like fishing. That's what me dad does for a living. I could catch you a fish if you want."

"Don't throw it away," her companion advised. "You might need it on the way back, when we reach the full heat of the day. The Dornish son can be dangerous to anyone who isn't used to it."

"Aye. Even for me, though I'm used to it," he said. "Even a Dornishman can get too hot sometimes. Do you want to stop and rest?"

He nodded and bent to pick up the basket, eager to impress a pretty girl.

Unfortunately for Daenya she merely cut a flesh wound. The guard cursed and stumbled, turning round and groping for his own sword. "You bitch! Drop the sword! Hurry now and I won't tell the princess."

The two face off in the desert. But Daenya has years of sword training at her back, with a proper master at arms teaching her from a young age, and the guard is young and nervous about fighting a woman, especially a young one. His hesitancy costs him dearly as Daenya deals him wound after wound, first to the shoulder when she misses his throat and then to the face. He tries to resist but as the blood flows, he is forced to retreat. Daenya presses her advantage, striking the young guard in the thigh. Finally, however, when he is stumbling, and sweat stings his eyes, she brings her sword up and drives it deep into his throat. He sags downwards, eyes wide and terrified. He crumples to the ground as Daenya pulls her sword free, blood spurting from the fatal wound.

But wearing even leathers in the heat of the Dornish sun makes Daenya sweat and her leathers begin to stick uncomfortably to her body. She may have to rethink her situation.

The heat bore down on her. She headed to the place where she'd left Vandaras but it had been some time and the dragon was not there. Nor could she see him gazing around in any distance, nor flying above her. He had clearly moved on.

After she has been walking for a while, Daenya sees the shadow of a mountain range in the distance. Recalling an old tale that dragons are most at home in the mountains, and that Dragonmont is the place they typically call home, it occurs to her that perhaps Vandaras might have flown north to the mountains.