Page 130 of Blood & Claw

He sniffed the air, his gaze widening.

It struck her then that he wasn’t the only one whose senses had sharpened of late. She’d scented the smoke before he had.

Nodding, he then placed a finger to his lips, warning her to be silent. He looped Rùn’s reins around a tree and beckoned to her, making it clear she was to follow, before creeping forward.

She joined him, and together they made their way up, climbing through a bed of withered ferns, brushing through more brambles, to where the rocky ground suddenly gave way. Crouched on the lip, Ailsa craned her neck down, her gaze sweeping over the steep-sided corrie below. Five horses stood, hobbled at the northern edge of the hollow.

And there, in the center of it, burned a campfire. Ruddy firelight flickered over stone, illuminating the faces of the black-cloaked men seated around the fire pit.

Three of them.

As Darach had predicted, one would be keeping watch.

One was spit-roasting a hare, another sharpened a blade on a whetstone, while the third warmed his hands over the flames. The warriors spoke in low voices between themselves.

The aroma of cooking meat made Ailsa’s mouth water, reminding her that her last decent meal had been the night before. However, her attention didn’t linger upon the roasting hare or the men, but on the small woman with curly red hair.

Kayla sat a few feet back from the fire, spine pressed against the trunk of a spindly pine, wrists and ankles bound.

Ailsa’s breathing caught. Finally.

Reaching out, she grabbed Darach’s wrist. She then squeezed.

The grisly scene in the shieling vanished from her mind, as did the knowledge that had settled between them afterward. All that mattered was that Kayla was here. Alive and seated close enough to call out to.

She wouldn’t though. Everything depended on what they did now.

Glancing his way, she squeezed his wrist once more, more urgently this time.

He tore his attention from the group gathered by the fireside and met her gaze before nodding. And then, he jerked his chin back the way they’d climbed. It was time to retrace their steps.

“We can’t make any mistakes,” Ailsa said, blinking to banish the sudden image of gaping bloody throats and dead eyes that flashed before her.

Not now.

“We won’t.” Darach dropped to a crouch and dragged a finger through the damp earth, drawing a crude circle with three marks around it. He then drew one slightly apart—Kayla—and another right of the camp. “I’ll deal with the sentry first.”

Behind them, Rùn shifted uneasily, leather creaking. They’d climbed back down the hill and now were well out of earshot of their quarry.

He then glanced up, his gaze settling on his stallion.

Ailsa tensed. “What?”

“Rùn will provide the distraction we need,” he replied. “If he bolts across the edge of the corrie … and makes some noise … they’ll think something is coming for them.”

She inclined her head. “A predator?”

“Aye … there are plenty of them out here.”

Their gazes locked, a silent acknowledgement settling between them for the first time since the shieling. He wasn’t just referring to her, but himself.

“That should work,” she replied, forcing a tight smile.

Leaning forward, he circled one of the marks in the dirt. “One will likely go to investigate … and those who stay will be watching outward, not behind them.” He paused then, cutting her a glance. “While they’re distracted, you slip up behind Kayla and free her … and the moment she has a blade in her hands, we’ll take them.” He drew another mark on the western edge of the corrie. “I’ll approach from here.”

Ailsa weighed his words. All the while, the mist pressed in, thick and so cold it seared her lungs. Rùn stamped once, impatient now.

Ailsa drew in a deep breath, steadying herself. His plan made sense.