That wasn’t what worried her though. Lasttime she had scouted the route she’d noticed several of the moredangerous beasts had nested in some of the cliffs. This wouldn’t bea problem under normal circumstances because she could detouraround the nests. This time, however, the quickest route skirtedright along the edge of their territory.
She spent most of the next two hours securingsupplies for her journey. Since they had to carry their own packsand would be on foot, every item had to be absolutely necessary.That meant no more food than necessary and just enough water to getthem to the next watering hole. It was a delicate balancing actthat required Shea to draw from previous experience as well asintuition.
Her last stop was her cottage, the only otherstone building in the village. In many respects, it reminded Sheaof the older ruins found deep in the Highland’s heart. It just hadthat feel to it. The kind of feeling that said it had beenforgotten by time and man.
It was small. A grown woman could barelystand inside without bumping her head. The walls were close andcramped. Nature had threaded twisting vines through its stone wallsin an attempt to reclaim the structure. In spring, it looked as ifa blanket patterned with pinks, purples and blues had been wrappedaround it as flowers bloomed on those vines. In winter, theunpatched holes gave little protection against the cold.
Shea loved it. Even when it was colder than awitch’s tit. Despite the neglect of humans, it persevered and evenmanaged to be beautiful while existing in symbiosis with the landaround it.
Nobody knew its past purpose. Regarding itwith deep suspicion, the villagers allowed it to fade from theircollective memory. Pretending it didn’t exist was easy as it waslocated at the rear of the village, close to the wall.
They gave it to Shea when she arrived becausenobody wanted to live here and because, as an outsider, she wasregarded with the same level of suspicion.
Shea held up a sixth pair of socks. Did shereally need them? The route they were taking was relatively clearof any water. The weather had cooled as summer loosened its grip,and fall took its place. Still, it was vital to keep feet dryduring a long journey and would be much more comfortablebesides.
An extra pair of socks in her bag wouldn’treally make a difference but as packing progressed those littleextras really added up.
The supplies ready and her bag packed, Sheaslipped her arms through the two loops and lifted it onto her back.Bending forward, she tugged on the bottom of the straps, tighteningthe pack until it hugged her back and wouldn’t flop around whileshe was running.
She grabbed one of her maps off her desk andheaded out the door. As always it took a few steps to get used tohaving a pack’s weight, but by the time she reached the front gateshe was able to ignore it to focus on other matters.
She arrived at the front gate carrying hersack of supplies, mostly food, but some odds and ends. Two menwatched her approach. One had taken a seat on an overturned bucketand was using his knife to peal a piece of fruit. The years hadcarved crow’s feet in the corner of his eyes and grooves around hismouth. His skin was leathery, and his brown hair was pulled backaway from his face.
His companion was much younger, probably alittle younger than Shea, with curly reddish-blond hair that barelyreached his ears. His forehead was broad over sky blue eyes thatmade the girls in the village swoon every time he smiled atthem.
“Witt. Dane.” Shea gave a respectful nod asshe stopped in front of them. “You know why you’re here?”
Witt, the elder of the two, nodded andflicked a peel off his knife. Dane smiled at her, his eyestwinkling merrily. She’d worked with both before. Witt wasn’t sobad. Just surly. But he listened when she had something to say andwas handy in a fight.
Dane might be a problem. He tended to flirthis way out of work and was under the impression that he knew morethan he did. Too bad she couldn’t leave him behind this time.Unfortunately, he was good with a boomer and the only man in thevillage able to use one. She would need that if they ran intotrouble.
“Good.” She set the supply sack on the groundand withdrew some rations, handing each man his share.
“This is barely a day’s worth of food,” Danecomplained, holding up the meat wrapped in loaves of bread. “It’snot enough.”
“It is,” Shea corrected him. She held out twocanteens of water to him and gave Witt the other two. “You’ll haveto ration your supplies. There are several pieces of fruit in thatbag as well as dried meat that you can eat while on the road. We’retraveling light this trip. We can’t afford any extra weight if wewant to get to Edgecomb before mist fall.”
“What route are we taking?” Witt asked.
Shea pulled out her map and unrolled itcarefully on the bucket Witt had just vacated. It was made from asturdy stock of paper and drawn with a careful hand and an eye fordetail. The geography of the land was done in blue, red and blackink with several closely drawn lines signaling elevation andfurther spaced lines meaning flatter land. It had been treated witha kind of oil to ensure the marks didn’t fade over time. Shea couldstill make corrections, but the treatment meant those could beerased with a bit of spit and elbow grease. It made it handy tomake notes on various trails without permanently damaging theintegrity of the map.
“This trail would get us to Edgecombquickest,” Shea said, running her finger along the path inquestion. “But the last time I was up that way I noticed some signsthat beasts had settled close to there.”
“What kind?”
“Red backs.”
Witt nodded grimly without taking his eyesfrom the map.
Red backs were a beast that walked on allfours for the most part. However, when killing, they rose ontotheir hind legs, and would tower over the tallest man in BirdonLeaf by several arm lengths. There were always two, usually mates,and they had claws that could cleave a man’s head clear off hisshoulders. They were named for the red fur on their backs. The furon the rest of their body was usually grey. Once they moved into aterritory, they usually didn’t travel out of it unless prey becamescarce.
“Who cares if there are red backs?” Dane saidwith the food still in his hands. “You just said we have to get toEdgecomb as fast as possible. If we run into any problems, we’lljust kill them. Their pelt fetches a nice price in theLowlands.”
“Maybe you could flirt them to death, puppy,”Witt drawled, giving Dane a dismissive glance. Shea hid a grin.“Red backs are incredibly difficult to kill. A boomer’s lead won’tpenetrate their hide. You have to get close, with knives or swords,and cut them open.” Witt stood and mimed a slash in demonstration.“They’re bigger than us, faster than us and one hit will crush yourchest until you’re exhaling blood.”
Dane held Witt’s gaze, his mouth set in adisgruntled line before bending and picking up his pack. Shea kepther gaze focused on the map while Dane busied himself fussing withits straps.
Witt squatted down next to her. “I’d like tosay the boy is entirely wrong, but if James and Cam were taken byEdgecomb, they don’t have a lot of time.”
