Chapter 17
The cottage was silent.
Beyond the little window, the world was still wrapped in darkness, the sky only just beginning to pale at the eastern horizon. The outlines of the surrounding hills were little more than shadows.
Elodie stood with her hands resting on the rough wooden windowsill, staring out into the sleeping Steading.
Strange, she thought, how things can change so quickly.
The first morning she’d woken here she’d thought it primitive, isolated, frightening.
Now she knew every cottage, every winding footpath.
She knew who baked the best bread, which children were forever getting into trouble, which old men argued over absolutely everything.
But just as it all began to feel as familiar as a well-worn shirt, she was about to leave it all behind and walk into the unknown.
Three days had passed since Ronan had stood before everyone and revealed who he truly was.
Three days, and yet it felt like a month.
It had been three days of relentless work.
Packing what little everyone owned. Smoking meat for the journey.
Repairing wagons. Organizing people into groups so nobody would be left behind.
She’d thrown herself into it with the same determination she’d once devoted to impossible construction deadlines. The only difference was that this time it mattered. Really mattered. Because if they got this wrong there was the very real possibility that people could die.
Her hands clenched, her fingers gripping the windowsill.
Only yesterday there had been another skirmish on the outskirts of the Steading.
It had been nothing like the ambush that had wounded David, but bad enough.
A militia patrol had stumbled across two of Ronan’s scouts near the moors.
Nobody had been hurt but only because Ronan’s warning system had given them enough time to disappear into the hills.
If anyone had any doubts that the Steading was no longer safe, this incident had quelled them. Sooner or later those militias would find the Steading. Leaving wasn’t simply an option anymore.
It was survival.
She rested her forehead against the cool wooden frame, breathing deeply to calm the thumping of her heart. Strong arms slipped gently around her waist. Ronan rested his chin lightly on her shoulder.
“What occupies that busy mind?” he murmured.
“Everything.”
His quiet chuckle vibrated against her back. “That narrows it down.”
“I was just...you know...worrying. Turns out I’m quite good at it.”
“Faye tells me that isnae good for yer health.”
She snorted. “And she’s right. I’ve barely slept a wink.”
“Me neither.”
He brushed her hair aside and kissed the back of her neck, a slow, lingering kiss that sent warmth racing through her. She closed her eyes. His embrace tightened slightly and she turned in his arms until she was facing him.
Even in the dim light, she could make out the familiar planes of his face. The scar near his jaw. The thoughtful eyes she’d come to know so well. The man she’d somehow fallen hopelessly in love with.
She reached up and traced the line of his cheek. “How are you feeling?”
“Honestly? Terrified. I’ve not walked this road in years.”
She nodded, thinking of what lay at the end of it. His brother. His past. Everything he’d tried so hard to leave behind.
She slipped her fingers into his. “We’ll walk it together.”
His expression softened. “Aye. We will.”
He kissed her gently then rested his forehead against hers. A long sigh escaped him. “I guess it’s time.”
The words settled heavily. “Yes, I guess it is.”
Ronan released her then opened the door.
Elodie followed him outside into the cold predawn air.
They found the Steading was already moving, but not with its normal morning bustle.
This time it was quiet, focussed. Lanterns bobbed quietly through the darkness as families gathered beside their bundles.
Children, still sleepy, clung to their parents.
Bundles of blankets, sacks of grain, cooking pots and precious tools had been stacked neatly beside the track. Even Bran and Skye were sitting silently, as though they understood the need for silence and secrecy.
Angus stood patiently near the front of the column, already saddled. The huge horse turned his head as Ronan approached, nudging his shoulder affectionately. Ronan rubbed the white blaze between the gelding’s eyes.
“Morning, old friend.”
He began lifting the smallest children into the saddle. A little girl barely three years old giggled sleepily as Angus snorted warm breath into her hair. Soon there were four tiny passengers perched carefully on the saddle, wrapped securely in blankets.
Ronan checked each child was secure before taking the reins and scanning the people assembled behind.
Elodie did a quick head count to make sure everyone was here.
Fifty-two people were assembled on the street, all looking terrified, but all waiting patiently for the signal to move out.
Eamon and the rest of the trained fighters had taken up their places around the edge of the group whilst Faye and Sarah were positioned to each side of the wagon in which David lay.
There was nothing else to do. Nothing else to say.
Ronan nodded. “Let’s go.”
He began leading Angus towards the head of the valley. Behind him, the column lumbered into motion like some huge, ponderous beast. Scouts slipped ahead into the darkness. The strongest walkers drifted towards the rear to help those who struggled.
Elodie fell into step beside Ronan. Only when they reached the edge of the valley did Elodie pause and look back. In the faint predawn light the little cluster of cottages looked peaceful. Smoke no longer rose from the chimneys. Doors stood closed.
She swallowed hard. “It doesn’t seem right.”
Ronan followed her gaze. “Places are only stone and timber. It’s people that matter.”
She forced herself to nod, even though she wasn’t quite sure she believed it. He squeezed her hand once and they continued on their way, climbing steadily up the narrow path that led out of the valley and into the moorland beyond.
A group of Eamon’s scouts were waiting for them at the head of the valley and a quick, whispered report to Ronan, told him that all was well. Elodie let out a slow breath. That was good. Their line would be most vulnerable to attack whilst they were leaving the sanctuary of the valley.
They tramped in silence, even the younger children making not a sound, as they wound onto the open moorland. The air up here smelled of peat and damp earth and dew sparkled on the leaves of the heather that grew in vast clumps along the undulating ground.
There was no path to speak of but Ronan led them unerringly onward, seeming to know his way without any markers to guide him. Above, the eastern sky slowly brightened from black to deep blue and the faint smudge of light along the horizon began to spread.
Hours passed. The scouts returned periodically, reporting the route clear and Ronan’s shoulders gradually relaxed.
“We’re making good time.”
Elodie nodded.
They were making their way gradually downhill through small dells filled with wiry trees when Ronan stopped and pointed.
“There.”
Elodie squinted and spotted something that looked like a ribbon cutting through the Highlands towards the south. With a start, she realized it was a road, the first she’d seen since entering this time. At the sight, a hopeful murmur ran through the column.
Yet the mood darkened as they drew closer to the road and Elodie got a good look at what lined it. Houses. Several of them. Or, what had once been houses. Now they were just blackened skeletons with collapsed roofs and walls scorched by fire. Charred beams jutted towards the sky like broken bones.
The silence that fell across the column was immediate. Nobody needed to explain what had happened here.
Elodie stared. Someone had once lived here. Raised their children. Cooked their meals. Gone about their lives. Now there was nothing left.
She looked at Ronan. His jaw had tightened but his eyes never left the ruined croft. Without a word, he gently urged Angus onward. She’d dared to hope that the worst of the danger lay behind them.
Now she realized that it lay ahead of them.
RONAN DIDN’T LIKE TRAVELING on the road like this. Too exposed. Too dangerous. Tracks across the moor he trusted. Narrow paths through the hills he understood. But roads like this? They were for armies, merchants, tax collectors, not a straggle of refugees desperate to find safety.
Yet what choice did he have? They could not safely travel across the moors either, not with so many children and old folks with them.
He walked by Angus’s head, one hand resting lightly on the reins while Bran and Skye trotted several yards ahead, never straying far before circling back again.
He glanced over his shoulder. The column stretched behind him too long for his liking.
Families walked in loose clusters, carrying everything they owned on their backs or in crude handcarts.
Faye remained close to David’s wagon, checking him every few minutes.
Elodie walked a little behind Ronan, speaking quietly with Sarah.
The sun had cleared the horizon now, painting the fields along the road side in pale gold. By this time the road should have been busy with farmers driving their cattle to pasture. With drovers moving sheep. With carts creaking towards market.
But it wasn’t. The only sound was the dawn chorus of birds in the trees lining the road and the steady crunch of many pairs of feet. In the crofts and small farms he could see in the distance, smoke only curled from a handful of cottages, far fewer than there should be.
His thoughts drifted unwillingly back to the burned croft they’d passed. He’d seen sights like that when he’d been a lad. His father had once taken him to such a place to show him what could happen when clan feuds got out of hand. But this? This felt different. Larger. More systematic.