* * *
Something was wrong, Elara could feel it. She went to rush forward, to break through the tree line, but she was suddenly yanked to a rough stop and drawn back against something solid. Disoriented, it took her a moment to realize her back was planted firmly against Dar’s chest, his arm secure around her waist.
An odd thought struck her. His muscled body spoke more of a warrior than a wanderer. Had something happened to him that had made him take to the road, live his life without direction?
He planted his cheek next to hers, its warmth melting his icy one as he whispered, “Do not be so foolish as to run into trouble, easy steps will get you there just as fast and more than likely avoid the trouble that waits.”
Elara eased in his embrace, feeling foolish for not having given more thought to her actions. Her only thought had been to help those in need.
His arm fell from around her waist, his hand closing around her hand in a grip that warned he didn’t intend to let go.
“Cautious steps,” he warned. “We don’t want to be caught and left helpless.”
“I fear we’re too late,” she said.
“Then let’s find out before we rush into the unknown.”
He approached the tree line, keeping her at his side and they peered through the branches together.
The village lay in disarray; cauldrons overturned, firewood scattered, baskets spilled where they’d fallen. People moved like shadows through the wreckage, clinging to one another, faces streaked with tears and soot. A woman knelt on the ground, her arms wrapped around an empty shawl. Another stood staring at the spilled remains of her overturned cauldron.
Elara went to step forward, her heart growing heavier for the suffering that she feared would continue.
Dar’s hand tugged at hers, pulling her back before she could leave the cover of the trees.
“Don’t,” he urged, his strong grip warning her that she wasn’t going anywhere.
Her anger rose beneath her grief and she snapped at him. “They need help.”
“Aye, but not until we know it’s safe to approach.”
She cast a quick glance at the village. “There are no Hunters, only the pain they left behind.”
“And the Hunters could still be here,” he said, his eyes scanning the edges of the village. “They all don’t leave when the drums fall silent. Sometimes they hide and wait for those who think it’s safe to return.”
The words chilled her. How did he know that? Had he witnessed a Hunters’ attack on a village? She looked again toward the ruins of Thornleigh, the broken faces of those who had lost loved ones and those relieved to have been spared.
“How long do we wait to be sure?” she whispered.
“Patience,” was his only reply.
She wished she could run to the grieving villagers and offer what comfort she could. But if Dar was right and Hunters still lurked nearby, she would be of use to no one if she got caught.
Elara went to ease her hand out of his. “I will be mindful.”
His grip tightened. “Aye, I intend to see that you do.”
She felt a twinge of concern. Why should she matter to him? They would soon part ways, as was their agreement once they reached Thornleigh.
“Look,” Dar urged.
Elara’s eyes followed to where he pointed at a group of trees to the left of the village.
No wind blew hard, yet the branches stirred. Suddenly, two women and a young lass stepped from the shadows of the trees, skirts torn and faces streaked with dirt, their eyes wide with fright as they hurried to the village. A cry went up—a man’s voice—and then others followed. Families broke into a run, rushing to meet them.
Elara pressed a hand to her mouth as the women and lass fell into waiting arms. Laughter and sobs mingled, joy shattering the stillness for the first time since they’d arrived. Children clung to their mothers, and men hugged their wives. For a moment, it was as if the world breathed again.
Then the horses came.