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She’d been raised on horses. He’d been raised on the sea and it was his legs that were looking for a break more than hers.
He’d also discovered during the day that she was a pleasant enough travel companion. A quick wit, she produced clever observations on the villages they passed through. And in the dull of long stretches of road, she’d asked him light, nonsensical questions that drew him against his will into conversation after conversation with her.
What was the best way to store hay? How many acorns should a squirrel hide away for the winter? How far out into the sea would birds follow a ship that had fish remains on it? What was the actual intelligence of crows? Would the exponential breeding habits of hares eventually suffocate the world if they weren’t hunted?
The woman was curious about any and every topic.
Not that he had anything better to do with his day.
Though she was never too deep. Never too quarrelsome.
She was a master of non-committal, non-contentious conversation. Perfect for ballrooms and stuffy dinners.
But to balance the chatter, she also knew how to be quiet for long stretches. To let the sounds of leaves crinkling in the breeze fill the space of silence.
Rune looked past her into the forest that lined both sides of the road, his head tilting his right ear upward to hear any and all sound. A corridor of trees was the most obvious place of attack and his eyes shifted back and forth, wary.
Rustling in the far-off bushes on his right, nothing more.
Crack.
Out of nowhere, a booming gunshot shook the air around him.
Crack.
Another.
Yanking up on his reins, he threw his arm out to grab Elle’s horse, but she had already jerked her mount to a stop.
His look frantic about them, he heard the sudden thunder of horses tearing through the trees to the front and right of them.
A deer darted out of the forest from the right, crossing the roadway in front of them and disappeared into the line of tress to the left. Not two minutes later a storm of hounds and five—no, six—scarlet-clad men on horses tore out of the forest on the right, rumbled across the road, and drove forth into the opposite woods.
Peculiar time of year for a hunt and not a one of them even glanced at Rune and Elle, so focused they were on the pursuit of the deer.
Rich bastards.
The asses probably released the poor deer just to hunt it.
The dust that had been kicked up from the road settled in front of them, sparks of it falling like miniature diamonds as they reflected the dappled summer sunlight streaming in amongst the treetops.
Rune looked to Elle.
Shit.
She wasn’t on her horse.
He found her almost immediately on the ground. Her back to him, she moved away from him, her feet dragging along the brush in the dip along the side of the road until she dropped to her knees.
He was off his horse in an instant, shoving past her mare to her.
He grabbed her shoulders, rounding himself to the front of her and propping her up before she fell. “You weren’t hit, were you?”
No response.
His fingers tightened on her shoulders, and Rune slowed, bending to look in her eyes.
They were open. Open and vacant just like yesterday.
