“They kent what they were doin’,” he snarled.
David frowned, scanning the undergrowth. “Aye, they doubled back here, tried to lose any trackers.”
They split briefly, circling a small clearing where an old fire pit lay cold. Connor knelt, touching the ash.
“Nay more than a few hours old,” he muttered.
David shook his head. “They dinnae linger, took what they needed and moved on.”
As the light began to thin, Connor straightened, fury and fear warring within him.
“We’re losin’ them,” he said hoarsely.
David placed a steady hand on his shoulder. “For now, aye, but tracks can be found again.”
Connor nodded stiffly, though the thought of waiting tore at him.
He mounted again, casting one last desperate look into the trees.
“Hold on, Eva,” he whispered, the words a vow and a plea.
David swung up beside him, face set with determination. Together they turned back toward the road, empty-handed but unbroken.
As they continued down the path a thin thread of smoke curled through the trees like a warning finger.
“There. Smoke, see it?” Connor said.
“Aye,” David said.
“Tie off the horses. We move on foot from here so as to nae give warnin’ we are comin’,” Connor said.
The men walked through the woods with Connor leading the way. He edged toward a clearing. It was ringed with rough tents and tethered horses, and at its heart stood Eva bound to a post.
Connor drew his sword in one smooth motion, steel whispering as it cleared the sheath.
“Let her go, Jack,” he said, his voice low and deadly calm.
Jack’s laugh cut sharp through the clearing. “Give me back me son, and maybe I’ll consider it,” he sneered, tightening his grip near Eva’s shoulder.
Michael stepped forward, pale as ash, eyes darting between them. “Da,” he said hoarsely, “what are ye doin’? Why do ye have that woman?”
Connor kept his sword raised, every muscle screaming to charge.
“Michael isnae yer son,” he said, each word forced through clenched teeth.
Jack’s face twisted, rage and grief warring in his eyes. “He is in the ways that matter,” Jack screamed, spittle flying, “the ways that God himself decides.”
Jack stalked a step closer, blade flashing in the firelight. “Yer faither dinnae deserve a son,” he snarled, “nevertheless two, when he took that chance from me.”
Connor shook his head, confusion slicing through his fury. “I daenae ken what ye speak of,” he said, voice hard, “this is madness, let Eva go.”
Michael’s breath came quick as he stared at Jack. “Is that true?” he asked, voice breaking, “ye took me from me own family when I was a bairn? Why?”
Jack’s jaw clenched, his eyes darkening as if old ghosts had risen around him. “Because me wife was taken from me,” Jack said hoarsely, “by Connor’s faither.”
Connor froze, the world narrowing to Jack’s words. “What?” he demanded, disbelief crashing through him.
Jack’s laugh turned hollow. “Aye,” he said, “yer faither killed me wife, and when I saw that carriage overturned, I thought God had judged him. They were injured gravely in that accident. I did them a mercy in takin' their lives, but it was also justice. Yer faither lusted after me wife, and when she rejected him, he killed her. I deserved justice, and I got it.”
