Chapter 10
Ruby woke with a jolt, certain for one disorienting second that someone had shouted her name.
But it was only a bird outside the thin canvas of the tent—something shrill and chirping far too enthusiastically for this hour.
She groaned and rolled onto her back, staring at the faint light filtering through the fabric.
Her entire body ached from sleeping on cold, uneven ground with only a wool blanket between her and the dirt. She’d shared the tent with Isla again, who slept curled like a cat and had somehow managed to steal half of Ruby’s blanket.
Ruby hadn’t slept this poorly since her university days, back when Daniel had convinced her camping was “fun” and she’d spent a long weekend pretending she wasn’t freezing while he snored beside her. She’d sworn never to subject herself to it again. And yet here she was. Camping. In the past.
Absolutely brilliant life choices, Ruby, she thought sourly.
She crawled out of the tent, blinking at the morning light. The camp was stirring around her—men tending to horses, folding blankets, the smell of porridge rising from a pot suspended over a small fire.
She looked around, searching for one person in particular. There. Evan was speaking quietly with Isla’s father. Ruby rubbed her eyes and yawned so hard her jaw cracked. Evan noticed. Of course he did. His mouth twitched with what might have been amusement.
“Sleep well?” he asked, sauntering over to her.
“Is that a trick question?”
“So that’s a no?”
“A resounding no.”
After yesterday, the guards had doubled their patrols and many of them looked grainy-eyed and pale this morning.
No one trusted shadows anymore—not after bandits had appeared seemingly from thin air.
Ruby had lain awake listening to every snapping twig and sigh of wind, half expecting another attack.
Another yawn stole over her and Evan stifled a grin.
“Long night,” she muttered.
“For everyone,” he replied. “But some folk hide it better.”
Somebody pressed a bowl of porridge into her hands and she mumbled a bleary thanks as she slumped onto a log by the fire. The porridge was wonderfully warm as it went down and helped wake her up. At least a little.
By the time she’d finished her breakfast, most of the camp was packed up and ready to leave.
Isla came over and grinned at her, looking way too sprightly. “Ready for another day on the road?”
Ruby forced a smile. “As I’ll ever be.”
She climbed to her feet and followed Isla to her wagon, glancing around for Evan. He’d positioned himself parallel to Isla’s wagon as though posting himself as an additional guard. He met Ruby’s gaze and gave a slight nod.
Ruby nodded back as the caravan lurched into motion. Last night, Isla’s father had declared that at dawn they would take a new route—one less predictable, deeper inland, away from the more commonly traveled track. It was wilder terrain, but safer. Supposedly.
Ruby wasn’t convinced. She doubted any route was safe in this wild, treacherous landscape.
But they moved smoothly and without difficulty as the sun rose higher, chasing away the last of the early-morning chill.
But gradually, the land grew rougher—rocky ridges, dense patches of woodland, gullies carved by rainwater.
The sky clouded over too, threatening rain.
She didn’t like the look of it. Wet ground meant slick roads and slippery slopes.
The caravan slowed to a crawl. After another hour of slow progress, she heard something in the distance—a low rumble. Not thunder. Water, she realized. Lots of it.
The caravan rounded a curve in the track and up ahead a river came into view. It didn’t look deep but was wide and rushing fast. Very fast.
Ruby’s heart dropped into her stomach as the caravan made straight towards it. They weren’t going to try and cross that were they?
It seemed they were. The caravan halted and a number of the guards rode up to the water’s edge, inspecting the river bank. Ruby jumped down and hurried over to Isla’s father at the head of the column.
“We’re not crossing here, surely?” she asked.
“Aye,” he replied. “It’s shallow enough, and there’s no other crossing for a league in either direction.”
Ruby stared at the hissing torrent. She might not be an outdoorsy person, but even she could see that the level was already rising. It must be raining somewhere upstream. Her brain started calculating the risk.
“The water’s rising too fast,” she said. “The ground underneath might be unstable. If the wagon hits a rut or the horses panic—”
“We’ve done this crossing a dozen times,” Duncan interrupted, annoyed that she was trying to tell him what to do. “A little rain willnae stop us.”
“A lot of rain can,” Ruby insisted. “What if it’s bucketing down upstream? What if a flood is on its way? At least check the depth first.”
“We’ll be long gone before any flood can reach us. We cross now.”
Ruby glared at the merchant and then at the river. The riverbed seemed to consist of tightly packed gravel which might very well offer decent purchase for wagon wheels —if the water level was low. But it wasn’t.
“Ruby,” Isla called from the wagon. “It’ll be fine. Da knows this land.”
Ruby snapped her mouth shut and didn’t reply. Seemed nobody was in the mood to listen to her caution.
Two of the mounted guards went first, riding their horses through the water without mishap. The river swirled around the horses’ knees but the footing was sure. When they reached the other side, they waved back and the wagons formed up, ready to cross one at a time.
From the corner of her eye, Ruby noticed that Evan had moved away from the main group and taken up position on a small rise that gave him a good view of the surrounding landscape. She approved of his caution. If those bandits wanted to launch another attack, this would be the perfect time to do it.
Everyone but the wagon-drivers dismounted and Isla clucked to her horse, gently guiding her wagon up to the edge of the water.
There, the horse balked, throwing his head back and refusing to step into the cold flow.
Immediately, Isla slipped from the wagon seat and took hold of the horse’s bridle.
Whispering calming words, she coaxed the horse forward.
Water foamed around her boots and the wheels of the wagon as it creaked into the rushing water.
Ruby’s pulse leapt. She began running through a risk-assessment in her head—the speed of the water, weight distribution of the wagon, slope of the riverbed, the behavioral unpredictability of animals—
It was an accident waiting to happen.
“Isla, wait—” Ruby began.
But too late. The horse suddenly shied violently as its hoof caught a submerged rock. The beast jerked sideways, pulling the wagon into a deeper hollow. The left wheels sank, wedging hard into the riverbed. The current slammed against the wagon wall, lifting the right wheels.
“Hold him steady!” shouted one of the guards.
“I’m trying!” Isla cried, digging her heels into the riverbed as the horse thrashed.
Then—snap! The traces tore.
The horse screamed, panicked, and spun sharply. His flank crashed into Isla, knocking her cleanly off her feet. She went under.
“Isla!” Duncan bellowed, stumbling down the bank to where his daughter had disappeared.
But Evan was already running. He hit the water in long, powerful strides, pausing only long enough to throw off his weapons belt before diving in. The river swallowed him in an instant.
Ruby splashed in after him but she was unable to see Evan or Isla. Then she spotted a flash of fabric, a pale arm. Evan surfaced, holding Isla around the waist. The current had swept both of them downstream, but Evan fought it, dragging them toward shore.
All thought of risk evaporated. Before she realized it, Ruby was wading into the river, ignoring the stinging cold that enveloped her up to her hips.
She threw herself towards Evan and Isla, grabbed Isla’s arms, and helped Evan to drag her up onto the muddy bank where she lay limp and unmoving.
Her skin had taken on a gray pallor and her eyes were closed. She wasn’t breathing.
She heard Isla’s father yelling in anguish but she shut out the sound. “Move,” she snapped at the people crowding around and knelt beside Isla, brushing wet hair from her face.
“Dear God,” Duncan whispered, dropping to his knees. “My lass... my sweet lass!” His voice was filled with panic.
But Ruby felt strangely calm. She tilted Isla’s head back, checked her airway—nothing blocking it—then interlaced her hands and positioned them on Isla’s sternum.
“Evan,” she said without looking up. “When I tell you, you breathe for her. Pinch her nose, tilt her head back, and blow into her mouth.”
She didn’t wait for his agreement. She began compressions, pressing down with all her strength on Isla’s chest. Firm. Steady. Counting in her head.
One. Two. Three. Four.
She wasn’t a paramedic but she was a first aider, although never in a million years would she have thought she’d use her training in these sorts of circumstances.
After thirty compressions, she nodded sharply at Evan. “Now!”
He lifted Isla’s chin, sealed his mouth over hers, and breathed.
Ruby counted silently. Then she resumed compressions.
Time blurred. Her knees dug painfully into the gravel.
Her arms burned. Sweat dripped into her eyes despite the cold.
Isla’s father sobbed beside her, but Ruby shut it out. She couldn’t afford emotion. Not now.
“Come on,” she whispered. “Come on, Isla, breathe. Breathe.”
Another cycle. Then another. Her vision started going black at the edges and a wave of dizziness threatened to send her pitching onto her side. But she refused to stop.
Then suddenly Isla jerked. She coughed a choking, spluttering cough.