Suddenly, more shapes were starting to stir around the wreckage of war, lone figures shuffling forward as if they were half dead already.
The children had frightened eyes, and yet as Noah held out his hand to them, they reached back.
“Come on, let’s get ye something to eat, aye?” he said softly. “We’ve got some fine horses here. Are ye fond of horses, lad?”
The younger boy’s face lit up behind his mask of dirt, and he nodded eagerly.
“Come with me, then.” Noah said, smiling.
He glanced at Senga, and she gave him a quick, approving nod. “We’ll need water to cleanse wounds,” she said at last. “Where is the well, lads?”
One of the boys pointed towards the depths of the village. “We built the town around it.”
“I’ll start fetching water, then,” Senga said, glancing at Noah.
He gave a short nod but now seemed reluctant to meet her eyes.
That doesn’t matter anymore,she reminded herself sternly.We are here to help, and that is all that matters.
She made herself turn away from Noah and began trotting through the village.
The most direct way through the village was straight through the square, the bodies dangling overhead. She walked quickly, determinedly not looking up.
The well had mercifully been missed by the fire, although parts of the stone had been smashed out of the walls and probably knocked into the water below. She let down a bucket hurriedly, turning the winch as fast as her sore arms could manage. The water came up looking clear and drinkable, which was good.
We’ll need a lot,she thought tiredly.It’s this or making countless trips to the nearest river.
Behind her, a boot scraped slowly on stone. Senga froze, still staring down at her own grubby reflection in the water. She paused, glancing over her shoulder.
Behind her stood a half-burned house, its entranceway still sturdy, providing a shadowy doorway.
“Hello?” Senga ventured. “We are here to help. Are ye injured?”
A shadow shifted inside the doorway, stepping towards her. Unease settled in Senga’s stomach.
“Are ye hurt?” she tried again. “Ye are safe now.”
A long, low chuckle echoed, and Senga’s blood turned to ice in her veins. Another shuffling footstep, and the shadow stepped into the gray daylight, revealing himself.
“Safe? Nay, I think not,” he murmured.
Senga let go of the bucket. It toppled off the side of the well wall, falling back down inside and landing with a splash.
“Father,” she gasped. “What are ye doing here?”
Robert Murray grinned widely. “Why, I’m here for ye, lassie. Dinnae fret. It will be over very soon, I can promise ye that.”
Chapter 9
Whose Fault Is It Really?
Senga backed away until she bumped up against the crumbling well wall. She stared at her father, advancing steadily from the shadows.
“Stay back,” she gasped. “Stay away from me!”
How long had it been since she’d seen him? He had aged more than she could have imagined. His hair was gray now, his skin papery, and he’d never had jowls like that before.
It was still him, though. It was still her father.
