Page 89 of Blood & Claw

“Then we go,” he replied. “I’ve found tracks … east of here. It’s them.”

Ailsa rose swiftly to her feet. At last. Their quarry had indeed left the road. “How long ago did they pass this way?”

“Half a day … maybe less.”

Her pulse jumped. They were closer than they’d been since before Gateway. Close enough to fix this, to make up for lost time.

Her gaze then flicked to the woman, still unconscious. “She’s coming with us.”

“Absolutely not.”

Ailsa turned to him, marking his deep scowl. Undaunted, she held his eye. “We can’t leave her … not like this.”

“If we take her, we lose more ground.”

Ailsa lifted her chin. “Then we ride faster.”

He barked a humorless laugh. “With a dead weight on the saddle?”

“She’s not dead.”

“Not yet.”

“We can’t abandon her, Dale. It’s wrong, and you know it.”

He stared back at her, eyes narrowed, before muttering, “The Mother’s tits … you’re too soft-hearted.”

“Maybe … but you’re not as callous as you like others to think, are you?”

Right now, she wasn’t sure about that, yet she had to appeal to his better nature.

Their gazes locked. Neither looked away. And as the moments passed, Ailsa’s breathing slowed.

Damn him, he was going to dig his heels in.

But then, Dale surprised her by stooping and hooking his hands under the woman’s armpits. “Help me get her up on Rùn’s back,” he growled.

They rode hard, or as hard as they could in the circumstances.

Dale held the unconscious woman in front of him, one arm locked around her to keep her upright. It slowed them.

Perched behind her bodyguard, Ailsa could feel it in every stride Rùn took. The stallion’s pace faltered under the extra weight. And as they traveled east, she could feel the silent weight of Dale’s disapproval too. He barely spoke, and if she asked him anything, his answers were clipped.

Ailsa compressed her lips. Let him brood. It changed nothing.

The tracks led them east for a spell and then northeast, following the course of a burn until the trees opened into a small clearing.

A crumbling broch rose from the undergrowth, its stones blackened, half its roof fallen in. Ivy choked its walls. Dark shadows partially obscured the ruin. The day was waning; the sun was on the verge of dipping behind the western treetops.

Dale deliberately skirted it.

At first glance, a ruin looked like the perfect spot to shelter overnight, but he clearly knew better. And so did Ailsa. She’d heard enough fireside tales about the ruins that slept in Albia’s shadowy corners.

“We’ll give this place a miss,” he muttered. “Don’t feel like dealing with powries tonight.”

They made camp farther upstream, in a clearing surrounded by a tangle of twisted oaks.

Dale didn’t say a word as he dismounted and carried the unconscious woman over to a grassy patch. Ailsa didn’t fight the silence either; they both needed to cool their tempers, to focus on their mission.