‘I need to do my ablutions,’ said one of the men, moving off. His boots crunched on the frost-bitten grass.
‘You can piss here, Armstrong,’ shouted his companion.
‘I need more privacy.’
‘What for? Are you taking yourself in hand? Has the lass’s bonnie face got you roused?’
‘No, for that witch has been giving me the evil eye, and besides, I’d have no cock to play with if Eaden thought I’d touched her.’ His voice faded as he moved into the trees.
The other man leant over and put his face in Lowri’s. He stroked her hair. ‘Still, you are bonnie enough. Maybe Eaden will give us the leftovers, eh.’
Lowri drew back her head and butted him right in the nose. He fell back onto the ground with a howl, clutching his face. When he got to his knees, blood gushed between his fingers.
Now was her chance, but could she do it? Cecily clutched a rough piece of stone in her fingers and stood up. It was heavy. Her legs were weak as she took a few steps into the open. The man had not heard her come up behind him.
‘You broke my nose, you bitch!’ he screamed, staring down at the blood in his hands.
Cecily met Lowri’s gaze, planted her feet and raised the rock.
‘Do it,’ mouthed Lowri.
Could she do it - crack his skull like an eggshell?
Lowri gave a silent scream. ‘Now!’
Cecily thought of Peyton and brought the rock down hard. It hit the man with a sickening crunch, and a tremor went from his skull right up her arm. He fell forward, and she fell upon him. Taking the rock in two hands, she brought it down on his head again and again until he did not move.
Cecily fell sideways. Her face was wet, and when she tried to get up, the woods whirled around her in a spinning green haze. There was a whistling sound in her ears, and then a voice broke through. ‘Untie me. Get his musket.’
Lowri was shuffling towards her on her bottom. They must have tied her legs together in the night. ‘Hurry. The other one is coming back,’ she cried.
A snapping noise came from the trees. Lowri’s eyes were wide with panic. ‘Get the musket. He’s coming.’
Cecily could not see it. She rolled the man over. His sightless eyes stared at the sky, making her retch. She fumbled in his belt for the musket and tore it free. It was heavy and ungainly, but she managed to point it at the man running out of the trees.
He aimed his musket at them. ‘Put it down, bitch, or I will shoot you dead,’ he yelled.
‘Shoot him,’ screamed Lowri.
Rowenna had once tried to teach her to shoot, but Cecily was not a good pupil. ‘Relax your arm and breathe,’ she had said. ‘If you are tense, you will miss. Stand sideways to make yourself less vulnerable to your opponent returning fire. Fix your eye on your target and blot out everything else.’
Her sister’s words flooded back as the man walked towards them, never taking his eyes off her face. Her hand shook violently under the musket’s weight.
‘Shoot him. He will kill us. Do it,’ hissed Lowri.
Cecily squeezed the trigger. A flash of smoke stung her eyes, and the recall sent her backwards, landing on the grass with a thud. She glanced at the man. He was still upright, staring down at his chest as a crimson stain spread from just below his breastbone. He looked at her, shocked, then fell sideways into the dirt.
The world spun around her, but Cecily got to her feet on unsteady legs. She felt dream-like, her head a muddle.
Lowri’s command cut through. ‘Cut me free,’ she said.
The man at her feet had a knife in his belt, so Cecily tore it free. ‘I never killed a man before, and now, I’ve killed two,’ she said as she sawed at the rope binding Lowri’s hands. It was so hard. Sweat beaded her forehead, and she didn’t feel right.
Lowri tore the remnants of rope from her hands and freed her feet. She shook Cecily hard enough to make her teeth rattle. ‘Gather yourself. You did what you had to do. You did well, Cecily. Where did you learn to shoot like that?’
‘My brother, Bran, tried to teach me, but I could not do it properly. He mocked me and said I would never learn, so I practised hard. I was determined to be an excellent shot just to prove him wrong.’
‘Well, lucky for us, that musket was loaded.’ Lowri glanced at the man on the floor, his head gaping red. ‘But I suppose you could have beaten him to death with the musket if you had to.’
