Page 71 of Blood & Claw

They were well ahead now.

Every furlong that passed without sign of Kayla tightened Ailsa’s chest. By late afternoon, hope had thinned to a brittle thread. By dusk, it had snapped.

Finally, she stopped searching every rise ahead for movement.

Fuck. They’d lost her again.

Night found them camped in the woods, a couple of furlongs back from the loch-shore. The first thing Ailsa did was go in search of something to use instead of rags for her bleeding. Fortunately, there was plenty of moss nearby.

She gathered it without paying much attention, her fingers numb, her thoughts circling the same bitter truth—they had been so close. And now Kayla had been snatched out of reach.

She found herself staring north through the trees again, as if her mentor might suddenly appear.

What if she never saw her again? What if this was how it ended?

The light was fading when she returned to where Rùn was tethered, and Dale had just lit a fire. His breathing steamed in the icy air as he fed twigs to the blaze.

Seated opposite each other, they didn’t speak for a while.

Ailsa’s lower back ached dully now, yet she did her best to ignore it.

The silence swelled, heavy and strained, broken only by the crackle of damp wood catching flame. Ailsa’s chest started to ache. The sudden quiet felt wrong after the urgency of the chase, and how near they’d come to catching up with Kayla.

“There’ll be a frost tonight,” Dale announced tersely, adding a heavier branch to the fire. They’d bedded down under the canopy of an ancient pine. He didn’t look at her when he spoke. His movements were sharper than usual, as if he were holding something in check.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Nothing.”

Ailsa frowned. “Are you worried we won’t catch them?”

He shook his head. “We will.”

“But what if they continue to outpace us?”

“They won’t forever.”

His tone had turned even curter. Clearly, he was tiring of her fretting, but she couldn’t help it. She needed something to cling to.

“It looked like a vicious skirmish with those trows,” she said, even as her breathing grew shallow. “I hope Kayla’s all right.”

Dale eyed her, his expression veiling now. “You’re close, aren’t you?”

Ailsa’s throat tightened. “We were … once.” She looked away then. “But of late … there’s been distance between us.”

“Why’s that?”

Ailsa sighed. “I started to feel suffocated … as if our life … our craft … wasn’t enough. I wanted more.” She swallowed then. Gods, what she’d give to have her old, boring life back. “And I started to resent her for it.”

Another silence fell, and Dale made no move to break it. Eventually, Ailsa glanced his way, meeting his eye. “You were in quite a temper yesterday when you discovered our quarry had moved on from Rhu,” she said finally. “Why?”

He shrugged. “Just overtired, I guess.” He reached for the saddlebag where they’d stowed their supplies. “Best we get ourselves some woolen tunics and leggings at the next village … and some blankets … or the cold will get us.”

Ailsa’s frown deepened. He was deflecting. “Overtired? What kind of answer is that?”

He huffed an annoyed sigh. “Just leave it, Ailsa.”

She leaned forward and dug at the fire with a stick, sending sparks spraying skyward. The flare of heat stung her eyes, but she welcomed it, anything to distract her from the hollow ache in her chest. “I don’t understand why you’re so cagey.”