Chapter 9
This wasnotfun. Ruby doubted she’d ever gotten up so early in her life. Not for school. Not for work. Not even the morning after she’d caught Daniel cheating and spent a sleepless night alternately swearing and weeping.
But Isla had shaken her awake long before her brain had so much as entertained the idea of waking, cheerful as a caffeinated sparrow. “Up, my friend! We’ll want to be moving before the mist worsens.”
Ruby groaned. “Why does mist matter?” she mumbled as she pushed herself groggily into a sitting position and dragged on her boots.
“Because men with bows and bad intentions love anything that will hide them.”
That woke Ruby up faster than any alarm clock.
She staggered out of the tent into a half-formed, dream-like world. A pale gray dawn shimmered through drifting fog, blurring the trees into vague shapes. Evan was already awake—of course he was—checking the wheels on the first wagon with quiet precision.
Isla nudged her. “That looks painful.”
Ruby blinked. “What?”
“The expression on yer face. Are ye worrying about bandits?”
Ruby snorted. “I’m worrying about everything.”
“Then stop.” Isla patted her arm. “All will be well, ye’ll see.”
Ruby had known Isla less than a day, but she already liked her. There was something open about her—something unscarred despite the harshness of the world she lived in. Ruby could use some of that grit right now.
The caravan was soon ready to move. Isla’s father strode up and down the line checking straps and buckles. The guards split into their usual pattern: some riding ahead, some ringing the wagons, the rest bringing up the rear.
Ruby climbed up beside Isla who was already seated on the bench, holding the reins. Evan didn’t join them. Instead, he took up position alongside the left flank of the train, expression tense and alert.
They moved out, and the road they took was wide and easy to begin with, rolling across the heathland in gentle undulations although the fog clung on grimly and visibility was poor. They’d been traveling for perhaps a couple of hours when the road began to angle upward into colder, harsher terrain. The air changed as they climbed, turning thinner, sharper, laced with the smell of stone and pine and the fog began to dissipate. The horses’ breaths puffed out in white clouds.
Towards midmorning the caravan came upon a rocky stretch where the track narrowed sharply and Duncan raised a hand to slow the wagons.
“Stay close!” he called.
On one side, the terrain sloped up into jagged boulders. On the other, it fell away in a steep embankment. Ruby was no expert on such matters but even to her untrained eye it seemed a perfect place for an ambush. The wagons pressed close together and their movement slowed to a crawl. She glanced at Evan. He’d been quiet and aloof all morning and now he walked ahead of the caravan, eyes constantly scanning the terrain.
Then suddenly, she saw him tense. His shoulders stiffened, his hand dropped to the hilt of the knife at his belt, and his gaze cut sharply toward the ridge above them.
Duncan had noticed it too. “What is it?” the merchant called.
Evan didn’t answer immediately. He scanned the rocks. “Movement.”
Duncan rode towards Evan. “What do ye see?”
“Maybe nothing,” Evan replied. “Could just be a sheep.”
Ruby didn’t think he believed that.
Duncan barked orders and the guards drew weapons, tightening their ring around the caravan. Duncan called for everyone to keep moving.
Ruby’s gaze flicked from side to side, searching for whatever had alerted Evan. But she saw nothing except a hawk riding the thermals above.
Minutes stretched like hours. Twice more movement was spotted in the trees, once to their right and once behind. But whatever it was, it came no closer, and the wagons emerged from the bottleneck into a wider, more open space with views all around. A flat, featureless moor stretched in all directions. There was no sign of life.
Still, as they rumbled on through the open landscape, Evan’s vigilance didn’t ease one bit.
And neither did Ruby’s nerves.
