"How would you know?" the man next to the bodies asked.
"The accent," Eva said, tapping her throat. "And their horses."
Everyone looked around for the horses in question. They were gone. Probably scared off in the commotion or by the mythological when he’d killed their owners.
"They were mountain horses," Eva finished lamely.
"Do you really think one small woman with no training as a warrior could have done this?" Ollie challenged.
Her friend's jaw was set in a stubborn line as he tried to defend her. Ollie tended to avoid conflict under most circumstances. He was easygoing, where Eva was stubborn, and preferred to figure out a path around the obstacles he faced rather than charge headfirst at them as Eva was inclined to do.
But not this time. This time he was almost combative as he challenged the warrior.
Everyone studied the bodies in question. Blood coated the front of the taller one from where his torso had long gashes in it, and the man’s throat had been torn out.
The head of the shorter one looked vaguely wrong, misshapen and slightly caved in. Eva felt her stomach turn as she realized why. Something had crushed it.
Her gaze swung toward Caia, the mare’s lower forelegs and hooves coated in an incriminating red.
Eva swallowed hard and met Hardwick’s gaze. "Please don't hurt her. She was trying to protect me."
His eyes thawed slightly.
The male warrior next to the strangers' bodies whistled as he gazed at Caia admiringly. "I wouldn't mind a mount like that." He slanted Eva a look. "Could you teach mine to do that?"
Eva's didn’t answer, surprise holding her mute.
"Roscoe," Fiona warned.
Roscoe shrugged. "Sorry, but I don't think she did it. I've never seen wounds like these. They're not from any sword or knife I know, and I doubt the herd mistress is even armed."
"Let's make sure of that, though, shall we?" Fiona suggested in a biting tone. She held her hand out to Eva expectantly, her eyes dropping to Eva's satchel when Eva hesitated.
Eva was quick to shrug out of the satchel, handing it over without protest. It didn't take long to go through the entirety of the contents. Eva didn't have much and the knife she’d used to cut the mythological free was probably still lying on the ground somewhere.
It only took minutes for Fiona to finish.
"If you didn't do this, who did?" Fiona asked, steadfastly ignoring Roscoe as he muttered, "Or what?"
A small sound came from above, drawing their gazes to the slight rise behind Eva. The mythological peered down at them, his equine face haughty and defiant.
Eva twisted, pointing up at the creature above. "Him. He did it."
