The man scratched at his beard, studying her torn hem and wind-reddened face as he said, “Kindness comes dear these days, lass, and folk daenae give it lightly.”
Eloise nodded, swallowing her pride as she replied, “I’ve little to offer but this ribbon,” she said slipping it off her hair. In return for hitching a ride as far as ye go.”
He tilted his head then reached out for the ribbon, inspecting it. Then jerked his thumb toward the back of the wagon. “Well then, climb up if ye must, but I’ll nae be answerin’ for where ye end up.”
Relief flickered across her face as she said, “That’s more than enough, sir, and I thank ye kindly.” She moved quickly, settling herself at the back with her legs dangling over the edge, the wood rough beneath her hands. As the wagon lurched forward again, she let out a slow breath, the first hint of safety settling around her.
“Where are ye bound, then?” the farmer called over his shoulder after a time, his voice carrying on the wind.
Eloise hesitated, then answered honestly, “Away.”
He let out a short chuckle and said, “Aye, that’s plain enough, but away has many directions.”
She stared out at the rolling hills and replied, “As far from these lands as the road will take me.”
The day wore on as the wagon creaked along, the rhythm of its movement lulling her into a weary rest as she slumped over, half between sleep and awake. The wagon jolted and she snapped awake and looked at her surroundings.
Eloise watched the land pass by, though she scarcely saw it, her thoughts tangled in what lay ahead.
“I daenae ken where I’m goin’,” she admitted softly to herself. The truth of it settled heavy in her chest, yet it did not break her resolve.
“Anywhere is better than there,” she added in a whisper, her gaze fixed on the horizon.
By the time the sun dipped low once more, painting the sky in fading gold, the farmer drew the wagon to a slow halt.
“This is as far as I go, lass. This turn takes me home,” he called, glancing back at her with a measured look.
Eloise slid down carefully, her legs unsteady as they met the ground. “Ye’ve done me a great kindness, sir,” she said, offering a small, earnest smile.
He nodded once and replied, “Take care where ye tread, for the wilds daenae favor the unprepared.”
She inclined her head and said, “I’ll remember it, and I thank ye again.”
Without another word, he turned the wagon and set off, leaving her alone once more.
She knew to get off of the main road and turned to the woods. The forest loomed dark ahead, its shadows thick as night settled in once more. Eloise stepped beneath its cover with cautious steps.
Branches snagged at her skirts and scratched at her skin, leaving thin lines of pain that she scarcely noticed at first.
“Just a bit farther, then I shall rest,” she murmured, though she had no measure of distance left within her. Her strength waned with each step, exhaustion pressing down until her limbs felt heavy and slow. She stumbled once, catching herself against a tree, her breath shuddering as she fought to keep moving. “Daenae stop now,” she whispered, her voice barely more than a breath.
At last, through the thinning trees, she caught sight of something that made her pause, a distant shape rising against the darkened sky. A castle stood there, its outline stark and silent, a promise of shelter or danger she could not yet know.
Eloise stared at it, her heart pounding anew, uncertainty warring with desperate hope. “It could be worse than the wild,” she murmured, her voice shaking as doubt crept in. Yet the cold bit deeper, and her body cried out for rest, leaving her little choice.
Drawing in a steadying breath, she lifted her chin and said, “A stable. Anywhere. I cannae stay out in the open. Move, just move.”
And with that, she turned her steps toward the unknown, choosing the chance of refuge over the certainty of ruin at home.
“We’ve lost it clean this time,” James said.
The stag had slipped them twice before vanishing into the mist, leaving James standing still among the trees, his breath steady though his thoughts were not.
Beside him, his man-at-arms, Callum adjusted his grip on the bow, casting a glance toward the fading trail. “Aye, the stag has bested us, Laird,” Callum muttered, though there was no real frustration in his tone.
James lowered his weapon. “Aye, seems the beast has more sense than most men I’ve dealt with,” he replied dryly.
Callum huffed a quiet laugh, slinging the bow across his back as he said, “If beasts had to answer to a council, they’d nae last long either.”
