Chapter 5
The soup was beginning to burn. Deryn cursed as the smell wafted through the cottage, tossed the hoe he’d been sharpening onto the floor, and hurried over to where the pan was bubbling on its tripod in the hearth.
“Damn it!” Wrapping a cloth around the pan handle, he lifted it from the tripod and set it down on the stones of the hearth.
Mara, lying in front of the fire, watched him quizzically, as though amused at his antics.
“Dinna ye look at me like that,” he said to the dog. “I’m sure ye wouldnae say no to the leftovers whether they be burnt or no, eh?”
With a sigh, he poured the soup into a wooden bowl then carried it over to the table he’d carved from the trunk of a fallen oak tree. Settling himself onto the bench, he hunched over his food, blowing to cool it.
Outside, the storm had finally finished howling with the break of dawn and Deryn wondered how much damage he’d have to repair once he ventured outside. He had visions of broken fences, missing thatch, torn off shutters. Still, at least he, Mara and Surly had made it home last night rather than being stuck out in the wild weather. He should be grateful for small mercies.
“Well, Lizzie lass,” he said aloud, raising his spoon in a toast. “Here’s to getting home after a challenging day. A warm fire, awarm meal and the day stretching ahead. What more could I ask for?”
You,he answered immediately.I could ask for you.
The familiar pain throbbed through him, like an old wound that had been prodded. He pushed it away with an effort. Instead, he focussed on his meal. The soup was bland and had burned bits floating in it but at least it was hot.
As he ate, his thoughts returned to the strange lass he’d met yesterday. Madeleine MacKay. She’d been unlike anyone Deryn had come across. Her mannerisms were very odd. And what had she been doing out wandering the wilds in a storm?
He couldn’t get the expression on her face as he’d left or those last words she’d shouted out of his mind.
We’re going home!
What had that meant? And why had she sounded so frightened?
Deryn shook his head. It was none of his business. He would do well to forget the lass and concentrate on his farm. There were many things that needed his attention, and he had little time to spare if he wanted to get everything prepared for the spring planting.
But he couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d somehow done wrong by Madeleine MacKay and her son. Finally, he sighed and pushed his bowl away.
“What would ye do, Lizzie?” he said to the empty air. “I miss yer good counsel. What should I do?”
He already knew the answer of course. Lizzie would tell him to do his duty. To remember the oaths he’d taken.
Ah, dammit.
All of this was that cursed ram’s fault! If not for that blasted animal he would never have gone out into that storm, never have met Irene MacAskill and had to listen to her cryptic messages, would never have met a strange lass out in the wilds, and wouldnever have gotten pulled into a mess that was none of his concern. He would be ensconced in his cottage safe and warm and well away from the rest of the world—just where he wanted to be.
He had a good mind to turn that cursed beast into a hearth rug!
He dug his hand into his pocket and pulled out a small silver brooch. Absently, he turned it over and over in his fingers, watching how it caught the firelight. It depicted a bird of prey with wings spread wide and talons outstretched. It had been many years since he’d worn it and he didn’t even really know why he still kept it in his pocket. It served no purpose other than to remind him of the constant pain that sat in his gut, the pain of all he had lost.
Ye will be shown a choice, a new path. Whether ye will walk it is up to ye.
