“Conall MacKerrick!” Evelyn pulled the bird close to her bosom despite his squawk of protest. “For shame! Sebastian has been only well-behaved. He’s a very smart creature—you’ll hurt his feelings.”
“Bah,” Conall scoffed, hanging onto his sour countenance and addressing his chore once more. “Open the door and pitch him out, I say. Himandthat damned rodent.”
“Someoneis in a foul mood today.” Sebastian squirmed in her arms, as if he sensed his freedom was nigh, and Evelyn’s conscience gave her a pinch. Perhaps sheshouldset Whiskers loose, as well—the weather had improved at least to the point that Evelyn didn’t think the small creature would freeze before he could find himself a nice, dry den.
Besides, she and Conall—and Alinor and Bonnie and Robert—would be leaving the hut soon. Far better for the animals that could be turned loose now to have done with it, lest they found need to return. It never crossed Evelyn’s mind to liberate Robert—the rabbit had been a gift from Duncan, after all.
She sighed. “Very well, Conall.” She moved Sebastian under her arm and crossed to the shelf to retrieve the shallow wooden bowl.
Conall was staring at her with a surprised expression when she turned, her hands full of animals.
“What?” she snapped crossly.
Conall’s eyes dropped back to his blade. “Naught, Eve. Do what you would.”
She had to juggle Whiskers’s bowl while she struggled to open the door, her mood growing darker when Conall did not offer assistance. She stepped out into the misty rain and strode to the stump near the hut on which she sat the bowl.
Evelyn shifted Sebastian into both hands and raised the bird to look into the yellow eye he showed her.
“Are you ready for this, my boy?” she asked in a low voice. She blinked as her eyelashes came over heavy with rain.
“Bay-bee,” Sebastian cawed.
Evelyn nodded succinctly. She sat the crow on the wide, flat stump next to the bowl and slowly, reluctantly, removed her hands.
Sebastian gave a feather-ruffling shake and staggered sideways for an instant. Then he gave a tentative hop to the edge of the stump and swiveled his slick head, surveying the ground, the wood, the clearing, and the wide, low sky above them. He cawed again and Evelyn held her breath.
The crow dipped forward slightly, spread and stretched both wings, and then flapped from his perch. He flew only a short distance—perhaps ten feet—before landing awkwardly with an indignant squawk. He ran a bit, hopped, flapped his wings.
“Go on,” Evelyn called to him through the lump in her throat. “You can do it, lovely. Try again.”
The bird looked back at her a final time. Then he turned with a crouch and a mighty flap of his wings—
—and was away from the ground, rising higher and higher into the mist.
Evelyn rose onto her toes and clapped her hands in delight, despite the tears in her eyes. She watched with pride as Sebastian circled the clearing three times and then disappeared into the fog over the canopy of trees, his happy caws echoing back to her faintly in the gloom.
Evelyn took a deep breath and turned back to the stump. Undoing the twine twisted around the leather cover of the bowl, she peeled it away to reveal the small gray mouse hunkered down inside, watching her with tiny black eyes.
“There you are, my friend,” she whispered. “The wood is yours for the taking.”
The mouse remained frozen so that Evelyn had to force herself to tip the bowl to its side, tumbling Whiskers onto the stump. He sat up on his hind legs and sniffed the air daintily.
“Go on,” she encouraged, with a soft tap on his bottom.
The mouse dropped to all fours and scurried across the stump, down the craggy side, and over the rutted mud, and in an instant, Evelyn had lost sight of him in the jumble of wet and rotting foliage.
She felt good. And sad.
She picked up the bowl, shook the waste from it, and turned once more to the hut. She stopped when she saw Conall standing in the doorway, a proud smile softening the rugged planes of his face.
“I did it,” she croaked, the simple words catching in her throat.
“Well done, Eve,” he said quietly and held his arms toward her. She stumbled into them, weeping like…well, like a maid who has lost her pets.
“Shh,” he soothed and stroked her nape and back. “You have done a very good deed, lass.”
She nodded but dared not speak lest she lose all control of her emotions. But she did let Conall tip up her chin and kiss her mouth.
