Chapter 20
CHAPTER 20
A s the sun rose to mid-day, the bandits made a crucial decision to halt their journey. They set up a new camp, miles away from the previous one. Annabelle fretted that she hadn’t been able to leave more of a trail for Jamie to follow.
During the journey, Maeve had slept while Annabelle kept watch, hoping to catch a glimpse of Jamie or his men following behind, but she’d seen nothing. She hadn’t even gotten a chance to try and talk to Maeve since she’d been shoved in this cage with her. Annabelle knew she needed to though if she was going to find a way out of this for them both. She’d need Maeve’s cooperation, she was sure.
Seeking to break the silence that enveloped them, Annabelle leaned closer to the young woman beside her. She placed her hand on Maeve’s arm and whispered, “Hey, are you awake?”
She opened her eyes and blinked at Annabelle, giving her a nod.
Annabelle smiled. “I’m Annabelle. I’ve been looking for you for nearly two weeks now. Me and Jamie MacDonald and some of the others of the Donald Clan.”
Maeve’s eyes widened with distrust. “How do you know who I am? Why are the Donalds looking for me?”
Annabelle glanced toward the bandits to make sure they were all occupied and paying them no attention. “Your envoy to the Fort Donald was late. We went looking for you all and found the wreckage of the carriage. I’m sorry about your brother,” she said softly, laying a hand on Maeve’s arm.
Maeve’s lip trembled. “They killed them. How do I know you’re not part of them?” she asked, turning her gaze toward the bandits.
Annabelle frowned. “They locked me in here with you, and you heard Malcolm question me, I’m not from… here.”
She nodded. “He called you an outsider and that other said a Fae brought you, but the Fae donnae exist, so I donnae know what to think.”
“I’m from a small town in the south of England,” Annabelle replied, telling the lie that Jen and the others had come up with.
Maeve relaxed a little further. She turned her glance back to the bandits. “That’s Gwilym. He’s a disgusting pig. Malcolm put him in charge of guarding me to be sure I donnae escape.” She rolled her eyes. “He’ll be bringing us food, if you can even call it that. Tis little better than swill.”
Annabelle’s stomach grumbled at the thought of food. At this point she’d eat darn near anything she was so hungry. She watched Gwilym as he started toward them, two bundles of food in his hands. “Maeve, don’t let on anything I told you. Jamie and his men will find us, we just need to be patient and stay vigilant as we look for a way to escape.”
Maeve nodded but kept quiet.
With a cruel grin that seemed etched into his wrinkled visage, Gwilym approached the cage. He tossed down portions of roasted meats that had turned cold and unappetizing. Alongside them he dropped a meager chunk of bread, dry and crumbly, like a pale imitation of sustenance.
The food landed in a messy heap within the cage, barely an invitation to satisfy one's hunger. Annabelle watched as Gwilym's grubby hands flung the scraps with disdain, the fading sunlight highlighting the griminess of his fingernails.
In the cramped confines of the cage, Annabelle took the meager portions and gave some of them to Maeve. "You need to keep up your strength so we can find a way to escape, so eat."
Maeve, her wide eyes with exhaustion and gratitude, accepted the food with trembling hands. Her hunger proved stronger than her initial hesitation, and she began to greedily devour the offerings.
Annabelle couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for Maeve. Her frail frame, barely visible beneath the tattered garments, hinted at the hardships she had endured while being held by Malcolm and his men. As she watched Maeve eat, Annabelle silently ate her own portion and vowed that they would find a way out of this dire situation for both of them.
The sun set and the sky turned dark. The sky was filled with clouds that blocked the moonlight, leaving them shrouded in the dark. Maeve stirred from her fitful slumber next to Annabelle, her eyes heavy with exhaustion. Annabelle hadn’t been able to sleep at all in the uncomfortable confines of the cage, so her being awake seemed to startle Maeve.
Maeve began to cry, her shoulders heaving as she wept. "Why is all of this happening to me?" she whispered, as if fearful that the mere act of speaking might invite more trouble upon them.
Annabelle gently reached out to comfort the young woman. "Maeve," she began softly, "this is all because of Malcolm. He’s an asshole who wants to seize control of the Donald Clan. He's hired these men, these bandits, to create chaos between your clan and the Donalds in the hopes of undermining his own cousin's power as Chief."
Maeve's eyes continued to well up with tears, reflecting her fear and anger. "But why? Why me? Why kill my brother? We have nothing to do with him and the Donalds," she implored, her voice barely above a whisper.
Annabelle's hand found Maeve's, offering what comfort she could. "You're a Campbell, that is all that matters to Malcolm. You didn’t do anything wrong. You didn’t cause this to happen to you and your brother. He got to you by chance. You’re not to blame," she explained. "In Malcolm’s eyes, you are merely a pawn in his game. He’s using you in hopes of rallying support against Cam MacDonald. It's not about you, Maeve. It's about power, greed, and betrayal."
“But tis not fair, what’s going to happen to me?” she whispered, sniffling as she wiped her nose on her sleeve.
Annabelle leaned in closer to Maeve. "Maeve," she implored gently, "bear with me, just a little longer. We're bound to find a way out of this. I need you to be brave for just a little while longer, please. We'll be free soon, I promise you."
Maeve nodded fervently. In that moment, she looked more alive and spirited than she had since Annabelle had met her. “I hope you are right,” she murmured.
Exhaustion weighed heavily on Maeve, her slender form leaning against Annabelle's shoulder as her eyelids drooped once again. The trials of their ordeal had obviously taken a toll on her, and in this vulnerable state, she surrendered to much-needed slumber.
As the night wore on, Annabelle remained vigilant, watching over Maeve as she slept, determined to keep her safe and comforted until dawn. Unfortunately, her body began to grow more weary, and she was having trouble staying awake.
With a heavy heart and heavier eyelids, Annabelle finally succumbed to the beckoning embrace of sleep. Her dreams, however, offered no respite from the turmoil that had marked their harrowing journey. Fitful and restless, her slumber was overtaken by haunting visions.
In the depths of her nightmare, the figure of Edward materialized before her, his face contorted by a malevolent mask of horror. To her dismay, he stood next to another man. One with a face she recognized all too well—Malcolm's. He stared at her; his cruel intentions visible on in his gaze.
In the dream, the two menacing figures, Edward and Malcolm, united in their wicked alliance, pursued her through a dimly lit Highland landscape. At her side was Jamie, the man she had come to admire, respect, and love. They both tried desperately to escape them, but no matter where they went, which way they turned. Edward and Malcolm were right on their tail. Annabelle's heart ached as the dream played out, the lines between her past and present blurred by the twisted tendrils of her subconscious.
Annabelle eventually stirred from her fitful slumber. She propped her head up and looked around. The camp still lay shrouded in the hushed embrace of the coming dawn. Her weary eyes scanned the surroundings, instinctively assessing the shadows and the stillness, ever watchful for any signs of movement.
Annabelle closed her eyes once again, hoping to get a little bit of actual restful sleep, but the cage was uncomfortable and cramped. Still her mind drifted. Visions of Jamie, resolute and fierce, swirled through her mind, intermingling with the anxious uncertainty of her situation. She hoped that he was trailing them, that he’d find her and free her from Malcolm’s clutches. Her and Maeve.
She hadn’t been able to complete her task of leaving him cloth ties to follow, but she prayed that somehow, he would know which direction to go to find them. She had to believe that he would. She just hoped it wouldn’t be too late.