"That sounds nice," Jill sighed, thinking about how nice it would be with something that wasn't a stew in a questionable colour. She wasn't at all a picky eater, but when at Highever she had come to like the rich dishes prepared by the teyrn's kitchen. Once she had sneaked in to have a look when the teyrn had a banquet with some ally or other, and the food served there was the stuff of dreams. Shaking her head slightly to rid herself from the self-induced fantasies about food, she answered Lillie instead. "I just bought little things in the market, like roasted chestnuts when they're in season. Most of my money has always gone to my father."
Jill shrugged, and then grinned, realising how odd her answer must seem in perspective of her work. "I've never written a letter, nor received one," she said. "I guess our farm is quite remote, and no one in my family knows how to read and write very well, so." She said it without any embarrassment, as she didn't view the world as a place where one was a better person because of being literate. "I'm not sure, but I guess most people do as you did, send it with someone who will pass the destination. A caravan or a travelling merchant or a tinker, or something like that. Most other messengers I've met work for people rich enough to hire someone to carry their messages for them." A sudden smile passed on her face, swept away with a look that was far more bitter and cynical and sat uneasily on her bright face. "Rich enough to hire someone and rich enough to hire someone new when they die, I should say..."
Slumping a little in the saddle, maybe Jill clutched Salma too tightly, maybe she leaned back a little too far or maybe the horse simply decided that she had had it with this slow pace. Whatever the reason, Salma suddenly speed up, swiftly and smoothly (at least to Jill who was used to it) going from a walk to a trot to a canter. Their surroundings started to move by much swifter, their companions soon left behind.