Page 132 of Blood & Claw

The timing was perfect.

Now, she just had to get to Kayla. She also had to ensure she didn’t startle her.

Her mentor was alert, sitting forward, spine stiff.

Pushing aside blackthorn and wincing as thorns clawed at her, Ailsa edged forward. And when she reached the boulder, she whispered, “Kayla.”

The woman jolted, her head jerking in her direction.

And then she saw Ailsa.

Their gazes locked for an instant. Relief flared in Kayla’s eyes before alarm chased it.

Her lips parted, as if to warn her, but Ailsa moved. Whipping her small blade free from her boot, she cut the ropes binding Kayla’s wrists. All the while, she kept her eye on the remaining two men.

They were still turned away, both standing on the southern edge of the fire, bodies tensed as they waited for their friend to return and give the all clear.

The moment the rope fell away, Ailsa drew the dagger from her belt and pushed it into Kayla’s hands. She then started to saw at the bindings at her ankles.

The hemp rope was tough, and although her blade was wickedly sharp, cutting through the binding took longer than she’d hoped.

Teeth clenched, she sawed at the fibers. Kayla wore leather boots, yet she didn’t want to accidentally cut her feet.

Fuck. This was taking forever.

A shout rang through the hollow, just as the rope gave way.

Ailsa looked up to find that the two warriors had turned. They’d seen her.

She leaped to her feet, her fingers clenching around the knife’s grip. Kayla scrambled up too.

Ailsa’s gaze swept over them. Tracking and assessing. Both were big and muscular. Long-bladed iron daggers in their hands. Woad tattoos wrapped around their bare arms and crept up from the collars of their vests. Muscles flexed in their jaws, as if they were gripped in some strange rictus.

Their gazes glinted with a strange silvery glow that didn’t belong to the firelight.

Her breath caught. “Are they druids?” she hissed to Kayla.

“No,” her mentor bit out. “They’re aberrations.”

“Where are they from?”

“Their accents are southern … that’s all I know.”

Ailsa scowled. However, now wasn’t the time for more questions, for those warriors were advancing on them.

Kayla cut her a fierce look. “Stay back. Let me handle them.”

Ailsa scowled. No chance of that. Stepping forward, she focused instead on the shadow that crept up behind one of the warriors.

Here he was, as stealthy as the beast that lived beneath his skin.

Iron flashed, and the warrior—tall with close-cropped flaxen hair—went rigid.

Wheezing, he staggered forward, blood spurting from his mouth.

Darach had driven his blade up through his ribs into his lungs. The man sagged to his knees, still struggling as he stepped close and cut his throat.

The warrior toppled forward, and the coppery tang of blood slammed into Ailsa.