And she leaned her head against his back as he spurred his horse towards the high forest.
With her directions, they reached the stream in the woodsbehind the shed, where Skye was munching on grass as if she hadn’t been abandoned there overnight and half the day.
Montrose dismounted and handed Glenna the reins of his horse. “You stay here,” he said quietly. “I will go get your hound.”
“But—“
“Someone could be waiting.”
She nodded.
He moved swiftly toward the trees, then stopped and turned back to her. “Do not move. You can take the horses to drink and fill the water skins.”
She nodded, watched him disappear into the trees with his sword raised, aware he gave her something to do to keep her from following him, which she was not planning to do anyway. She went to the stream, filled and rehung the water skins on his saddle and waited long moments as the horses drank noisily. Ears sharp, she listened for the sounds of swords and heard nothing but the watery noise of thirsty horses.
Her mind wandered and played its own game of magic thinking…if this, then that.If Montrose comes back carrying Fergus, he is alive. Please… Please…
She paced in a small circle, placing her foot in the same place where she had just walked—it kept her mind occupied, then she felt Skye nudge her and turned to stroke her muzzle. “I am sorry you were alone, sweet. I am sorry, so very sorry. Skye...Fergus has to be alive.”
A crunch of leaves made her spin around, her breath held tightly in her throat.
Montrose appeared out of the trees, sword sheathed, and his arms empty.
Her hand covered her mouth to stifle her cry.
He looked at her with an odd expression. “He is not there.”
20
“Iwill not leave,” Glenna said, standing inside the cool dark shadows of the shed, toe to toe with Montrose. “Fergus! Fergus! “ she kept calling out, desperate and panicking. Did he crawl away? “He is here somewhere. He has to be here.”
“There is no sign of him, Glenna. No trail. I looked for him. You can see…here. Look about you.”
“You do not believe me. You think I am lying. That he was not here.”
He ran an impatient hand through his hair. “I believe you, but that does not change the fact that your dog is gone.”
She searched the dark corners of the small shed. “He must have crawled away.”
“There are no prints in the dirt.”
“But there was blood on the ground. By the fire last night. He was bleeding. It was there.” She moved to where a small stone ring held blackened fragments of burnt wood and ashes, and she went down on her knees. “It must be here.”
But there was no sign Fergus had ever been there. There was no sign of the blood she had seen. She stood, looking at the spot where he had lain, frowning. “There are no footmarks of mine…or of Munro and his men.”
“Which is why we are leaving.” He grabbed her hand. “Come. We cannot stay here.”
She pulled her hand from his. “I will not abandon him again.”
“You are not abandoning him. He is not here.”
“I will not leave without Fergus!”
He took her by the shoulders, clearly angry. “Do you wish to come face to face with that snake again?”
Silent, she crossed her arms and stuck out her chin.”I believe I am looking at him now.”
He swore, quickly picked her up, and threw her over his shoulder, in spite of her threats and shrieks, then strode outside and towards the stream.
