Page 41 of Blood & Claw

She wanted to tell him he was wrong, that she wasn’t the reason those men rode like the wind. But he was right—and she hated that he was.

Ever since Cleghorn, the memory of her encounter with that thief wouldn’t leave her alone.

His grubby hand darting toward Dale’s purse.

His desperate lunge for hers.

The sudden rush that followed. One moment, she’d been startled. The next, she’d wanted to hurt him.

Ailsa swallowed hard.

Even now, she remembered the fierce satisfaction that had surged through her when her nails raked across his cheek. The bright line of blood. The shock on his face.

Her stomach tightened.

The pickpocket hadn’t frightened her, yet her own reaction had.

How she wished Kayla were here to talk to. Maybe she’d be able to explain these violent bursts of anger. Maybe she should have told her about what happened at Harvest Fire. She’d been stubborn then—proud after their argument—but she regretted it now.

Moments passed, and then, to her surprise, Dale began to sing to his horse. His voice was a low bass, barely above a murmur. Meant only for Rùn.

Nonetheless, she recognized the song. One about a weary merchant who traveled far and wide over Albia, and all the while missed his lovely wife, who was waiting for him by their hearth.

Home, bonnie home, where the hearthfire burns,

Waiting, my true love sighs.

Though I wander far, my heart ever yearns

Back to her bright blue eyes.

Long are the roads through Albia’s glens,

Heavy the miles I’ve crossed.

Trading my wares through the wild and fens,

Counting each day I’ve lost.

Home, bonnie home, where the hearthfire burns,

Waiting, my true love sighs.

Though I wander far, my heart ever yearns

Back to her bright blue eyes.

Dale’s voice was good, and the words tugged at her.

What would it be like to have a man long for her like that?

Meanwhile, Dale continued to sing, rubbing Rùn down in long, firm strokes.

Irritated at the direction her thoughts had taken—for they reminded her of her humiliation at Harvest Fire and the knowledge that she’d never fit in amongst her peers—Ailsa left them to it.

She wandered to the edge of the loch and started gathering twigs for a fire.

Her breathing slowed and deepened as she collected firewood. Finally, some moments alone. Time to sort through her own thoughts after such an abrupt departure from Farnoch.