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On the way to the compound I had met Harold and together we had eaten some dried bosk meat and drunk water, from one of the commissary wagons attached to one of Hundreds in the city. As commanders we could eat where we chose. The tarns that Harold and I had stolen from Saphrar's keep several days ago had both been brought into the city and were nearby, for it was thought that such might be needed, if only to convey reports from one point to another. There were also, in the city, of course, hundreds of kaiila, though the main body of such mounts was outside the city, where game could be driven to them with greater ease. I heard someone chewing nearby and noted that Harold, who had thrust some strips of bosk meat from the commissary wagon in his belt, was busily engaged, quiva in hand, with cutting and eating the meat. "It's nearly morning," he mumbled, the observation somewhat blurred by the meat packed in his mouth. I nodded. - (Nomads of Gor, Chapter )