Page 24 of The Highlander’s Dangerous Desire

“An’ the saddles for pillows o’ a sort.” Ewan nodded.

Grace nodded. “I can…” A branch cracked under Ewan’s boot as he moved to set aside the travel case from the last horse. Grace jumped. “What was that?”

“Just a branch underfoot.” Ewan smothered his laughter with an effort. “Dinnae fret.”

Grace nodded. “I can gather wood for the fire.”

“Gather some small branches, or even twigs, an’ leaves first, afore ye get the larger branches.” He made a gesture with his hands to demonstrate.

“How would that create a proper fire?” Grace frowned.

“Tinder. ‘Twill light easier and help the fire catch.” Ewan paused. “Och, and dinnae forget tae get some stones tae form a fire ring. We dinnae want the sparks tae escape, nor one o’ us tae accidentally be rollin’ intae the fire.”

“Surely that never happens.” Grace stared at him, and Ewan found himself smiling, just slightly.

“’Tis nature tae be seeking warmth. Without the fire ring, warriors have been kent tae to roll intae the embers.” He’d never done it himself, of course, but then Alistair and his father had taught him the proper way to build a fire.

After a moment, Grace moved off to gather materials. Ewan turned his attention to setting up camp, and checking their stores of food. They were in need of more supplies, but they had plenty of bannocks and dried meat. After a moment, Ewan took the bowls he carried as well some leather ties. “I’m off tae seek a stream, an’ tae set up a snare. Might get naething, might get lucky an’ catch a rabbit or somethin’ else.”

“A rabbit? Can ye…”

“Och, I can cook a rabbit over an open fire. An’ if I dinnae get one, we’ll have meat broth an’ twice-baked bannocks, with whatever herbs I might be able tae scrounge.”

Grace blinked. “Bannocks?”

“Oat cakes. Often we use ‘em fer travel bread, because they last a fair long time an can be eaten in several different ways. But ye can bake them a little more in a fire, an’ the fire can flavor ‘em.”

“You must be jesting.”

Ewan smirked. “Ye’ll see.” He gestured to the wood in her arms. “Try tae set up a fire ring while I’m lookin’. At least the length o’ yer forearm from one side tae the other.”

It took him a few moments of careful listening to trace his way to the stream he thought he’d heard, then to set his snare and fill the old, dented bowls he carried with him when traveling with water. They would serve to boil the meat and soften it into a rudimentary sort of stew. Unless, of course, he managed to snare a rabbit.

He returned to find a lopsided ring in the dirt, and a haphazard pile of twigs and leaves in the center. It wasn’t much of a fire circle, but it was a very spirited effort. Ewan crouched beside Grace and carefully helped to rearrange the stones into a slightly more sturdy configuration. “’Tis a good attempt. Dae ye have the larger sticks as well?”

“I have some.” Grace pointed to a small - almost laughably small, in Ewan’s opinion - stack of medium sized wood.

“Good.” Ewan withdrew his flint and steel, then tapped them together. “Here, this is how ye get sparks. Ye strike flint and steel and watch fer them tae catch.”

It took a moment, but then he spotted the tell-tale whisper of smoke. “When ye see the first smoke, ye have tae be careful. Blow gently. As if ye were tryin’ tae float a feather.”

Grace bent and blew. Her first effort made the spark die. “Too hard.”

It took four attempts before the sparks caught in the tinder. From there, Ewan showed her how to add more tinder to the flame, until the fire was steady enough for the larger wood. Then he went and got small logs that burned a little longer. Before he left, he dug the bowls into the edge of the fire, between the stones and the flame. “Watch that, an’ add more water if it begins tae boil dry.”

Ewan gathered wood in the growing darkness, then went to check the snare. It hadn’t been disturbed, but that didn’t surprise him. He left it, with some bannock crumbs and green leaves in the center. Even if it didn’t provide dinner, the snare might provide breakfast.

He returned as the last light began to fade. Grace was sitting huddled next to the fire, watching the bowls and jumping every time a twig cracked. “Are ye all right?”

Grace jolted and almost fell into the fire. “Don’t sneak so quietly! I thought you might be… wolves.”

“They’d nae come so close tae a fire, nae unless they were starvin. ‘Tis usually only in winter that they’re so bold.”

A bird made a soft, twilight noise. Grace gasped and whipped around. “What was that?”

Ewan chuckled. “’Twas a bird.”

Grace scowled at him. “I know it was a bird, but what kind of bird? Will it attack us?”