“What did Damien mean about fighting? Were the attackers still there?”
“A few of them. She saved us, boy,” August answered. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Arden looked down at Isla as he dropped his hands, eyes widening.
“Well, don’t look so surprised,” she said, her wobbly voice weakening her attempt at their usual banter.
“She protected all of us,” Bri said softly. Isla turned to face her, afraid of what she might find in her friend’s face. “She’s the bravest person I’ve ever met.”
Tears filled Isla’s eyes again, and she let out a breath, flooded with relief.
Arden scrubbed a hand over his face. “We aren’t done talking about this,” he said. Isla looked at him cautiously. “But,” he added, gripping her hand, “I’m proud of you, Lala. Mama would be proud of you, too. The fiercest huntress in the land.”
Isla sniffed and drew him in for another hug. “Can I see him?” she asked into his neck.
“He’s in here. Come on.” Arden let go and nodded toward the inside of the house. Bri and Isla followed while August and Damien tended to the horses and survivors. They were discussing getting a crew together to take care of the bodies at the campsite, and a wave of grief swept through her.
Bri nudged her elbow as they walked into the house. Isla smiled lightly at her. “I’m glad you came. I don’t think I could face this alone,” she whispered.
“Well, I could’ve done without that little detour, even though it was partially my idea. You should never listen to me. And are we going to talk about that ridiculously attractive man you walked off with into the woods?”
Isla couldn’t help but laugh before shushing her. “I’ll tell you about it later,” she said, glancing pointedly at Arden a few steps ahead of them. Bri mimed pinching her mouth shut.
They walked through the small living area, where a fire crackled and warmed the room. Isla sighed as the heat washed over her sore legs and cold, stiff fingers. A few chairs surrounded a short wooden table in front of the fireplace, and a bear skin rug covered most of the floor. Arden led the girls to an adjoining room in the far corner.
When they entered, Isla’s eyes went straight to her father’s sleeping figure lying on a cot. He looked so fragile, so helpless, and it tore at her heart. A blanket was pulled up to his chest, a large white bandage covering his forehead. The room was sparse, with only the small cot that he was laying on, two chairs, and a wooden table next to the bed. A glass of water, a book, and her father’s bronze pocket watch sat on top. An older woman stood from one of the chairs when they entered.
“You must be Isla,” the woman said, smiling warmly. She looked about their father’s age—fifty or so—with light gray hair and friendly wrinkles around her eyes and mouth.
“I’m Dorothea,” she said. “I’m a healer in town, and I’ve been helping your brother and father here.”
Arden grinned at Dorothea. “She’s amazing. I don’t know what we would’ve done without her.”
“Oh, you’re a sweet boy.” Dorothea reached over and patted his arm. “I do the best I can. Arden has been taking good care of him, too.” She tucked the blanket around their father. “I’ll leave you to catch up,” she said, walking out the door.
“She reminds me of Mama,” Isla said quietly once they were alone. “I’m glad you’ve been in good care here, Arden, but please be honest. How is he doing?”
“Dorothea says he’s healing. His body went through a lot. It was…scary, I won’t lie. When those two men jumped from the trees, we were completely unprepared.” He took a shaky breath. “Buttercup got spooked and threw Papa off…he hit the ground hard.” Arden winced. “Then they started looting our supplies. I knocked one of them out, but the other was quick. Papa tried to trip him, even while half-unconscious, and was stabbed in the side. Got me in the arm, but it wasn’t too bad. Bastard ran away when he heard Damien and August coming. And then they brought us here.”
As Arden described the attack, Isla’s body went numb and her fingers shook. She sat down at the foot of her father’s bed, careful to avoid his legs. Hearing the crack of her father’s head hit the ground, picturing a jagged knife piercing his flesh, imagining the panic her brother must have experienced in that moment…it made her sick. What if Arden hadn’t knocked the other one out? What if the blade had been a few inches higher?What if—
Bri came to stand by Isla and put a comforting hand on her shoulder, breaking through the waves of nausea. “But Dorothea thinks he’ll wake up, right?” Bri asked.
“She doesn’t know for sure. It seems like his breathing has been getting stronger, which is a good sign. She says we just have to wait.”
Isla gritted her teeth. Patience was not her best virtue, and she couldn’t bear the thought of sitting there and doing nothing. She stood to pace the length of the room.
“I hate it when she gets like this,” Bri said. “It makes me anxious.”
“Me, too. It’s gotten worse as we’ve grown up.”
“You do know that I’m right here, don’t you?” Isla said, lifting her hands in exasperation. “And how can you be so calm?”
Arden sighed. “Because there’s no use in worrying ourselves to death. Trust me, I’ve been here for a couple days now trying not to lose my mind. This is the only thing we can do for him.”
“Can we at least get him on the wagon and take him home? Maybe it would be better if he was in a familiar area.”
“We could ask Dorothea what she thinks,” Arden said after a moment of consideration. “If we take it slow and fix the wagon up so he doesn’t jostle around too much, it might be okay. It’s not like we don’t have good healers back home.”
