Looking over his shoulder into the trees on the far side of the hollow, Moira tried to see whoever was out there, but she couldn’t see aught. It was too dark and shadows blended together making the landscape look creepy and foreboding.
“Moira?” Errol asked.
Taking a deep breath, she brought her gaze back to his. “I understand.”
He smiled encouragingly. “Ye are a strong woman, Moira Hart. The strongest I ken.”
She didn’t believe that, but she didn’t have the energy to fight with him about it right then.
“Stand up, but stay hunched o’er,” he ordered.
Doing as she was told, she waited, staring straight ahead to the destination she needed to run to.
“Now!” Errol urged. “Go, Moira!”
Off she ran, staying low, but pumping her legs as fast as she could. Feeling the burn in her thighs, but she ignored it. Ignored the heavy feel of them trying to slow her down. She couldn’t hear Errol behind her. She wanted to turn and make for certs he was there, but she needed to concentrate on not falling. The trees drew closer. An arrow whizzed by her, sinking into the ground to her right.
She screamed and hunched even lower, even though it made her advance clumsy, and pumped her legs harder.
Closer. The trees were right there. Just a few more steps and she would safe. The searing pain that lanced her side felt like fire. She sank to the ground, grasping at her side. She brought her hand up and saw that it was soaked in blood.
Nay.
They were so close. Where was Errol? She couldn’t see him, but she couldn’t stay where she was. She needed to get into the safety of the trees. Pushing off the ground, she moaned in pain, black spots appeared behind her eyes and she fought through the temptation to fall back on the ground and finally made it to the safety of the trees. At the edge she dropped down into the darkness, her face falling into the pine needles and mud, but she didn’t care. She’d made it.
*
There was onlyone archer. That was good for them. Judging from the aim of the arrows so far, the archer wasn’t one that was well-seasoned. Nay, Errol believed it was someone that was either very new to the bow and arrow or someone that didn’t possess the skill to be a good archer.
Either way, that bode well for them. Whoever it was had loosed several arrows whilst they ran. It was a gamble to not run behind Moira as she headed towards the trees and acted as a shield. One that he would most definitely never tell her about. But he figured since he was the bigger threat, he would draw the arrows to him and allow Moira to get to the cover of the trees safely.
He didn’t think she would ever forgive him for doing that and he wouldn’t blame her.
*
Applying pressure toher side to try to stop the bleeding, Moira scanned the trees looking around for Errol. She didn’t see him. Her heart quickened. Where was he? Had he been shot by an arrow as well? She frantically searched the ground, looking for his prone body laying lifelessly in the clearing. She heard footsteps behind her and turned best as she could. Her dagger raised as high as she could manage, ready to strike whoever approached.
“Lass, ’tis me.” Errol had his hands up.
“I. How? I, I thought ye were behind me?” She wanted to rush into his arms and hug him close. She wanted to cling to him like he was her lifeline and not let him go. But she couldn’t even stand. Her energy was quickly ebbing and she fought the temptation to close her eyes.
“I took a different path. There is only one archer. He couldna shoot two places at one time.” He knelt beside her and grasped her hand. It was then he noticed her injury, his eyes blowing wide and his forehead creased with concern. “Jesus, Lass.” His eyes dropped to her side, looking at the side of her gown which she was for certs was now saturated with her blood. “Nay, nay, nay,” he repeated and ripped off his tunic, wrapping it around her waist in an attempt to staunch the flow of blood. “We need to go deeper in the woods and get ye to safety.”
She gave him a small smile—it was the biggest one she could muster as she tried to lift her hand to caress his cheek. The effort was too much, and her hand fell limply to her side. “I am safe with ye here, now.” Her voice sounded far away.
Scooping her up in arms, Errol was careful not to jostle her overly much and moved further into the darkness of the trees, moving fast but sure-footed. She was cold and couldn’t stop the shiver that overtook her body.
“Ye will be fine, Lass.” His words were quiet, almost pleading as if he were saying the words to convince himself as much as her. He laid her on the ground gently.
“I am sorry,” she said quietly as he pulled away his tunic and assessed the wound in her side.
“Ye need stitches. I need to get to the horses and our supplies.”
She clutched at his arms. “Dinnae leave me, Errol. I dinnae want to be alone,” she cried, a tear slipping from the corner of her eye. Images of death swam afore her eyes. She didn’t want to die. Not now. Not when she and Errol were so close to mending the strife betwixt their families.
Not afore she told Errol she loved him.
She could tell him now, but her mouth didn’t want to move. And her eyes wouldn’t remain opened. She was slipping into the fog that threatened to consume her.
