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“Let the lass see your nose,” one of the other men snorts.
“Bet that’s not all she’d like to see,” another says softly.
Two others laugh, and Duncan’s cheeks turn a rich red. My own cheeks warm and the flush creeps down onto my neck.
“I apologize for the crudeness of my friends,” he says. “They do nae know their manners.”
“They’re fine,” I say, shaking my head. “I’ve certainly heard worse.”
“Well, then, the men-folk you’ve been around are all curs,” Duncan says. He exclaims as I press on either side of his nose. “Ouch.”
“It’s not broken,” I say. “Which is good. Anyone have some cloth?”
One of the men hands me a strip of dirty cloth. I press it to the corners of Duncan’s mouth and clean up the blood. As I clean him up, it becomes clear the blood is not all his. My stomach clenches but I keep it under control. I’ve never been particularly queasy but the intentional violence behind this blood is different somehow.
“Ach, Duncan, we need to be moving,” one of the men says.
“I know, Rob,” Duncan says, pushing my hand away. “You seem out of sorts yourself. If ya want to come back to our village, we ’ave a healer woman.”
“Your village?” I ask. I’m left numb. I don’t know where I am, where my friends are, or how to get back to Dalmally. And, more than anything, I don’t want to be out here alone. Not now, probably not ever. “I need to get to Dalmally.”
“Come along, Duncan,” one of the men behind him says. “We need to get the cows home.”
“Be right there,” he says, either not hearing or ignoring my statement. “Ma’am, I do nae want to leave you out here alone. You should come with us.”
“Right,” I say, trembling.
The adrenaline is gone, leaving me empty in its wake. What else am I going to do? How do I get to Dalmally? How do I get home?
“Are you all…” I trail off, looking at the group of men. They’re committed to their roles, but this can’t be real. “Is this a game?”
Duncan frowns, his brow furrowing as his eyes narrow. I hate myself for noticing such little details. I hate myself even more because I like the way it makes him look. Thoughtful. Intelligent.
“What kind of game would it be?” he asks. “I’m nae playing a game with ya, I promise. I assure you’ll be safe with us. I will nae let anything bad befall ya.”
Somewhere close by, I hear a flutter of wings then a raven caws. I look around for the sources and sitting on a stone, not more than five yards away, sits the oversized black bird. Oddly, the bird seems to be watching us. Duncan looks at it too then makes the sign of the cross. The raven caws louder, as if in response to his signing.
What the devil is this about? A bird? Seriously? Is it the same one that attacked Thomas? Is a bird protecting me? I feel a twinge of regret because that wouldn’t be the strangest part of my day.
“Uh, thank you,” I say. “I’ll need to find my friends, but I can come with you. For now.”
“Right, well, it’s getting late. Tomorrow I’m sure tha chief will allow us to help ya find the ones you’ve lost.”
I force a smile despite the pain and confusion in my head. When I look behind him, the grass is splattered with red. The field is littered with unmoving bodies lying where they dropped, dead. This is real. Maybe I hit my head in the fog? I could be in a coma. How else can any of this be?
“Okay,” I say. My voice quavers and I shiver.
Duncan smiles and somehow, it’s as if the warmth of his smile echoes in my soul. It’s that strange feeling of only just meeting someone but sensing, on some level, you’ve known them for a very long time. I want to trust him. More than that, I know I can.
“This is Rob.” He points to the dark-haired man. His nose has obviously been broken before as there’s a large lump at the bridge. He’s young though with blue eyes, a rough stubble on his cheeks, and broad shoulders. He nods as Duncan introduces him.
“And that’s Patrick and James,” Duncan says, pointing at the other two men with him.
Now that I’m not fearful for my life, I see that they’re obviously twins. Both have blonde hair pulled back into tight ponytails and youthful faces, with barely a hint of beard growing. They smile and laugh, giving a partial bow.
“M’lady,” they say in unison.
“Quinn,” I say, making a fumbling attempt at a curtsy, a gesture I’ve only seen in movies and read about in books. It’s much more difficult than I would have ever suspected, and I trip on my own feet in the attempt.
