shushed her. “I won’t let them get you. No more questions.”
She fell silent. But she didn’t stay that way for long. “Your arm,” she said, and he felt her touch the shredded linen over his bicep. The wound would need a tight binding, but they couldn’t afford to do it now.
“I’ll be fine.”
“It’s your axe arm.”
“I can fight with either.” When she didn’t look convinced, he added, “I’ll keep you safe. We just need to stay ahead of the trackers.”
“Can we? Stay ahead of them? Are they on foot? Horses? How many? Och, never mind. I can see ye struggling no’ to keel over. And you’re limping besides. Save your strength. But you’ll be answering my questions soon.”
He grinned at her trust and how she held her curiosity in check. Her brave spirit took his mind off the pain.
Wind whistled in his ear. The scents of pine and loam and musty leaves filled his nose, layering over the hyssop-laced musk that had stamped itself on his consciousness since he’d found Anya. He kept to the landmarks he’d learned as a pup, when he used to follow his sire to the lake to fish and trap the long-haired goats that lived in the northern foothills. Sweet meat, those goats had, and beautiful coats that brought fine sums at market.
The lake was his home away from home. He could walk its northern inlets and valleys with his eyes closed and know where each rock and fallen tree lay. Once there, the trackers would not find them easily, especially without their wolves. He and Anya would be able to rest safely for at least a day and a night. He’d be able to hunt and cook meat for her. He’d rub her sore legs and sleep beside her for as long as they both needed.
When they were rested and well fed, they’d take the northern route to Chroina. Where he would transfer her custody to King Magnus. A hollow burn flared in his gut, and it stayed there all the way to the lake.
* * * *
Anya ached all over. The arm she’d had wrapped around Riggs’s neck all day felt fixed in its curled position. Her legs cramped with the day’s inactivity. Her neck and shoulders ached from the fall. And her stomach was so empty it made an angry fist inside her. But she was alive. And relatively unhurt.
Not bad for a skirmish with a pack of oversized wolves. Too bad she couldn’t say the same for Riggs. Well, he was alive, thank the saints. But the sharp, coppery smell of blood stung her nostrils, reminding her of the open wound in his right arm. And his limp was becoming more pronounced by the hour. He must be even hungrier than she, and thirstier after running from dawn ’til dusk.
His pace had slowed from his powerful lope to a shuffling jog, but he persevered. Never had she known a man more capable and determined. He’d fought wolves for her. He’d carried her for leagues without complaint. She’d never been in more danger. And she’d never felt safer.
She was beginning to hate the idea of Chroina. Riggs spoke about the city with obvious admiration, but she still didn’t understand why he felt he must bring her there. Why couldn’t he keep her in his cabin? A lass could do far worse than caring for a gruff wolf-man who lived in a cozy hut in the woods. Aye, there was the problem of the trackers. But Riggs struck her as a man who kent the forest as well as his own home. Surely he could hide her away someplace and bring her back to his cabin when there were no longer men after him.
That was another thing she’d be asking him soon. Why was he being pursued? Might it be for killing those Larnians?
Riggs slowed to a walk. Ahead of them the trees thinned in the way of a forest yielding to a loch. Beyond lay a vast expanse of hyacinth-blue evening sky. Far in the distance, lavender tinted, white-tipped mountains stretched to majestic heights. Her chest compressed with longing for her Highlands.
This place is just as wild. Just as lovely.
But it was not her home. She had no home. And Riggs carried her ever
She fell silent. But she didn’t stay that way for long. “Your arm,” she said, and he felt her touch the shredded linen over his bicep. The wound would need a tight binding, but they couldn’t afford to do it now.
“I’ll be fine.”
“It’s your axe arm.”
“I can fight with either.” When she didn’t look convinced, he added, “I’ll keep you safe. We just need to stay ahead of the trackers.”
“Can we? Stay ahead of them? Are they on foot? Horses? How many? Och, never mind. I can see ye struggling no’ to keel over. And you’re limping besides. Save your strength. But you’ll be answering my questions soon.”
He grinned at her trust and how she held her curiosity in check. Her brave spirit took his mind off the pain.
Wind whistled in his ear. The scents of pine and loam and musty leaves filled his nose, layering over the hyssop-laced musk that had stamped itself on his consciousness since he’d found Anya. He kept to the landmarks he’d learned as a pup, when he used to follow his sire to the lake to fish and trap the long-haired goats that lived in the northern foothills. Sweet meat, those goats had, and beautiful coats that brought fine sums at market.
The lake was his home away from home. He could walk its northern inlets and valleys with his eyes closed and know where each rock and fallen tree lay. Once there, the trackers would not find them easily, especially without their wolves. He and Anya would be able to rest safely for at least a day and a night. He’d be able to hunt and cook meat for her. He’d rub her sore legs and sleep beside her for as long as they both needed.
When they were rested and well fed, they’d take the northern route to Chroina. Where he would transfer her custody to King Magnus. A hollow burn flared in his gut, and it stayed there all the way to the lake.
* * * *
Anya ached all over. The arm she’d had wrapped around Riggs’s neck all day felt fixed in its curled position. Her legs cramped with the day’s inactivity. Her neck and shoulders ached from the fall. And her stomach was so empty it made an angry fist inside her. But she was alive. And relatively unhurt.
Not bad for a skirmish with a pack of oversized wolves. Too bad she couldn’t say the same for Riggs. Well, he was alive, thank the saints. But the sharp, coppery smell of blood stung her nostrils, reminding her of the open wound in his right arm. And his limp was becoming more pronounced by the hour. He must be even hungrier than she, and thirstier after running from dawn ’til dusk.
His pace had slowed from his powerful lope to a shuffling jog, but he persevered. Never had she known a man more capable and determined. He’d fought wolves for her. He’d carried her for leagues without complaint. She’d never been in more danger. And she’d never felt safer.
She was beginning to hate the idea of Chroina. Riggs spoke about the city with obvious admiration, but she still didn’t understand why he felt he must bring her there. Why couldn’t he keep her in his cabin? A lass could do far worse than caring for a gruff wolf-man who lived in a cozy hut in the woods. Aye, there was the problem of the trackers. But Riggs struck her as a man who kent the forest as well as his own home. Surely he could hide her away someplace and bring her back to his cabin when there were no longer men after him.
That was another thing she’d be asking him soon. Why was he being pursued? Might it be for killing those Larnians?
Riggs slowed to a walk. Ahead of them the trees thinned in the way of a forest yielding to a loch. Beyond lay a vast expanse of hyacinth-blue evening sky. Far in the distance, lavender tinted, white-tipped mountains stretched to majestic heights. Her chest compressed with longing for her Highlands.
This place is just as wild. Just as lovely.
But it was not her home. She had no home. And Riggs carried her ever
Similar Books
