Elena was surprisingly still throughout. Though mostly perched stiffly before him on the horse, she did not complain. That, more than anything, told him how spent she was.
They crested a low rise and descended into a narrow clearing, half-hidden by clusters of birch and scrub pine. Jacob slowed the mare at once, his posture shifting—not tense, but alert, his attention sharpening as he took in the lay of the land.
“Hm.”
Elena stirred in front of him. “What?”
He tipped his chin toward the slope ahead. A small, thatched structure crouched there, its roof sagging on one side, moss thick along the stones at its base. The wooden door hung crookedly from its hinges, and a low, crumbling wall curvedaround what might have once been a pen for goats or pigs. Refuge, of a sort—and close enough to be very tempting.
“Shelter?” she asked, hope threading her voice.
Jacob studied it only for a moment before shaking his head. “Nae. Too open. Too easily seen.” His jaw tightened. “If we can spot it this easy, so can anyone else.”
He felt her disappointment as a drooping of her shoulders, but she did not argue. He shifted the reins and urged the steed past the clearing without slowing, choosing the higher path without hesitation. The trail narrowed further as they climbed, trees thinning to scattered growth, the ground turning rocky and unforgiving beneath them. The wind found them there, colder and sharper, tugging at his breacan wrapped around Elena and stealing what little warmth the day had offered.
“I ken where we are,” Jacob said after a time, his voice low but certain. “There are caves higher up—old ones.” He glanced back briefly, gauging her steadiness. “The English won’t risk the climb. Nae in small numbers. Too many Scots keep to the high ground, and nae raiding party wants to blunder into a larger force up here.”
The ascent steepened. The mare worked carefully now, breath puffing white in the cooling air. Jacob kept his focus forward, measuring distance and light, counting the hours they could no longer afford to waste. Dusk crept in quietly, washing the sky in muted violets and bruised blue as the sun sank behind the jagged line of the peaks.
Just as the last light slipped from the forest below, Jacob slowed the mare. Ahead, half-hidden by stone and shadow, the mountain face split open—not wide, not easily discovered. A dark mouth set into the rock, sheltered by an overhang that would turn away rain and wind alike.
“There,” he said quietly.
He felt her body soften against his, tension flowing out of her like water from an upended flask. The cave was narrow but sound, invisible from below unless one knew precisely where to look. As twilight settled fully around them, the mountains closing in, it felt like a solid plan.
He drove the destrier higher and eventually brought the animal to a halt beneath the shallow overhang. He swung down first, as had been his practice, boots striking stone smoothed by thousands of years. He reached up for Elena, lifting her down with care. Leaving the destrier for the moment, took Elena’s hand and they moved toward the cave.
The air inside the cave carried a chill that had nothing to do with the coming night—cool, mineral, close—and the light thinned at once as they stepped beyond the mouth.
The ceiling pressed low near the entrance, low enough that Jacob turned sideways and bent at the waist, one shoulder skimming the stone as he eased them inside. He kept hold of Elena’s hand, guiding her by feel rather than sight, his attention split between the narrowing rock and the careful placement of her steps. The passage forced them close, the stone funneling sound and movement alike.
Elena moved cautiously beside him, her free hand lifting toward the ceiling as though to test its nearness, and Jacob slowed without meaning to, adjusting his pace to hers until the ground evened and the rock above began to lift away overhead.
The passage widened after a dozen feet, the ceiling lifting until Jacob could straighten fully at last, his shoulders no longer brushing stone. He released Elena’s hand and turned his attention inward, taking in the broader chamber ahead.
“Stay here,” he murmured before moving deeper into the cave alone. One hand skimmed the wall as he went, measuring the turn of the rock, the way the space opened beyond the bend, how sound carried and where it fell away.
The passage curved to the left after a few strides, the rock folding inward before opening again. Beyond the bend the ceiling rose, the space widening enough to breathe in properly, the floor dry and sound. When he continued on, he was surprised to find a second opening—or an exit—narrow and easily missed, angling out toward the western face of the mountain some thirty yards on. A clean exit. A way through, not a trap.
He returned to Elena, already cataloguing where they would keep the horse, where a fire might be hidden from sight, how quickly they could move if they were forced to.
“It turns,” he said quietly when he reached her. “Opens up just past the bend. There’s another way out—thirty yards or so west. Narrow, but passable.”
Relief showed itself in the small ways he’d come to notice—a loosening in her shoulders, a weary exhale. Once he had seen Elena settled just inside the bend, Jacob turned back the way he had come, ducking beneath the low stone and slipping out into the fading light. The mare stood where he’d left her, ears flicking, breath steaming faintly in the cooling air.
He did not linger. Taking the western line of the rock face, he led her along the narrow traverse he’d already marked, where the mountain broke open again in a taller cleft—tight, but passable. The mare hesitated only once before trusting his hand and stepping through, the stone rising high enough there that she could pass without panic.
Jacob brought her into the cave’s wider chamber and tethered her well back from the entrance, where the light failed and the sound of her breathing was swallowed by stone. From outside, there would be nothing to see—no movement, no silhouette, no telltale shape against the mountainside.
Only then did he return to Elena, ducking again through the lower passage and guiding her farther in, where the ceiling liftedand they could stand at full height. Behind them, the last of the twilight slipped away, the mountain closing its hand around them, sealing them from sight on both sides.
Once the mare was settled and the wider space of the cave claimed, Jacob took a moment to listen again—to the mountain, to the silence beyond the stone. Satisfied, he turned back toward Elena, studying the way she stood now, shoulders drawn, hands tucked into her sleeves for warmth.
“We can light a fire,” he said at last. “Just inside the bend. The air moves through here—enough to carry the smoke. We’ll keep it low. Long enough to warm ourselves and cook.”
She looked at him, brow creasing slightly. “Cook what?”
“I dinna plan for a journey,” he said, stating the obvious. “There’s nae food in my bag. I’ll have to hunt. We have to eat.”
