“What’s the Order of the Osprey? You said you’re part of it and Fiona mentioned it too.”
“Aye, we’re both part of it. It’s an order of men and women dedicated to protecting Alba.” His eyes seemed to darken as he spoke, as if remembering painful memories. “We guard against all manner of threats both mundane and...others. We try to keep the peace and keep the balance.
It sounded like something out of a storybook, but here it was in real life.
“So how did you join?” she asked. “Was it a family thing?”
Conall’s face seemed to close off and he shifted uncomfortably, avoiding her gaze. “No,” he said in a low voice. “It wasnae what my family wanted. Ye could say I’m a bit of a black sheep in that regard.”
Molly could understand that. She too had defied expectations, taking on her father’s business though many deemed it unfit for a young woman alone.
“And have you never regretted it?”
“Sometimes I wonder what could have been if I had chosen differently,” he admitted. “But no, not really.” He gestured towards the landscape surrounding them. “This is where I belong.”
Molly nodded in understanding. All her life, her spirit had been entwined with the sea. Landlocked, she would waste away like a fish out of water. That’s why she’d wanted to become a marine biologist. That dream seemed very, very distant.
Suddenly Conall paused, kneeling to examine the ground. “Look,” he said grimly, indicating an ashen circle amidst the heather. “A campfire.”
Molly stared at the abandoned campfire, a knot of apprehension forming in her stomach. “I thought nobody came up here.”
Conall’s expression was grave as he rose to his feet. “They dinna. Usually.” He scanned the surrounding hills warily, his gray eyes missing nothing. “Perhaps it’s just travelers, people passing through like we are.”
“And if it’snotjust travelers?”
His eyes met hers. “They could be part of the raiding force that attacked Lanwick. When we scattered them, perhaps they came this way.”
Molly shivered, images of the brutal raid on Lanwick flashing through her mind. If they encountered the raiders here, what hope would she and Conall have against so many?
He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Dinna worry. This campfire is at least a day old. If we’re lucky, they’re long gone.”
If they were lucky? Sure, chance would be a fine thing. She pulled her coat closer about her, suddenly cold. They continued on, picking their way cautiously through the rugged terrain. The lonely beauty of the highlands now seemed tinged with menace. What threats might be lurking just out of sight?
Molly strained her senses, listening for any sound amidst the whistling wind and crying birds. She flinched at shadows cast by the clouds. Beside her, Conall’s hand rested on the hilt of his sword, prepared to draw steel at the first sign of trouble.
After hours of arduous hiking, Molly felt her energy waning. The inclines grew steeper, the footing more treacherous. Her legs burned with exertion, her feet aching in her worn boots. As they began climbing another hill, she paused a moment, leaning on her knees to catch her breath.
Conall turned back. “Are ye alright, lass?”
Molly waved him off. “I’m fine. Just...not used to such long marches.” She forced a weary smile.
“We can rest awhile if ye need to.”
“No, I’ll keep going.” She pushed off and continued uphill, too stubborn to admit weakness.
They reached the top of the rise, only to find that more hills rose beyond it, craggy and uninviting. Molly’s stomach sank.
“Let me guess: we have to climb those?”
“I’m afraid so,” Conall replied with an apologetic shrug. “The Pinnacle lies in the valley on the other side.”
“Of course it does. It couldn’t possibly be on a nice flat piece of ground with an easy path running up to it, could it?”
The hills were far steeper than they looked. Conall found them a trail of sorts that snaked its way up. The wind whipped around them, lifting strands of Molly’s red-brown hair and sending it dancing like flames against the backdrop of a cloud-laden sky. Her heart raced in her chest, each beat echoing the rhythm of their footsteps as they climbed.
Conall moved with the grace and ease of a seasoned warrior, his muscular frame navigating the treacherous terrain effortlessly. In contrast, Molly felt clumsy and out of her element. Though she was used to the rolling waves of the sea, the unsteady ground beneath her feet felt as foreign and unpredictable as the world she had stumbled into. Bloody hell, she wasn’t as fit as she liked to think.
“Ye doing alright there, lass?” Conall called over his shoulder, his voice like the smooth pebbles beneath a river’s current. “Not far now.”
