"Oh, yes," Lila said. "Some almost as wide as your arm span."
"Good." Lila spoke without looking at Nina. She was watching the men who had exited the tavern after the redcoats. They were locals, mad and scared and mad about being scared. And probably drunk. The perfect recipe for displacing their anger at redcoats to a less intimidating target. Like Lila.
"Come along, child," she said imperiously, with a wink at Nina. As they walked she spoke quietly. "The locals are in rebellion against the English--the soldiers in the red coats. I'm too dark to be a native, and my accent is English, so I'm a likely target for hostility. Being a recent widow on her way back to England with her step-daughter would explain our presence. I hope."
She glanced over her shoulder. The men were following, whispering amongst themselves. "A little faster," Lila suggested, picking up her pace. Romantic tales about chivalry and the like aside, people were people everywhere and everywhen, and the past was a much more violent place than the world Lila had grown up in.
Another glance back. The men had clearly worked themselves up, and broke into a run. Lila grabbed Nina's hand and pulled her into a run as well.