As the morning wore on, their baskets filled—wild berries, edible roots, mushrooms, herbs. The guards had managed to bring down a deer, which would provide meat for the village.
Around midday, they paused to rest near a small clearing. Mhairi sat on a fallen log, grateful for the chance to ease her aching feet. Alpin settled beside her, close enough that their knees touched.
"How much have we gathered?" she asked.
"Enough fer several days, at least. Combined with what we can bring from the castle stores, the village should make it through until more permanent solutions can be arranged." He handed her his water skin. "Drink. Ye've been workin’ hard."
She drank, then passed it back. Their fingers brushed in the exchange, and Mhairi was acutely aware of every point where their bodies touched—knees, shoulders, hands.
"Alpin?" she said quietly.
"Aye?"
"I ken ye wanted tae keep me safe in the castle, but I needed tae dae this. Tae be useful. I appreciate it."
"Ye're always useful. And nae just fer foragin’." His hand found hers, lacing their fingers together. "Ye've given these people hope, Mhairi. Come on. We should gather a bit more before headin’ back."
They rose and continued their work, moving through the forest with easy companionship. The sun climbed higher, and their supplies increased further.
By the time they started the walk back toward the village, Mhairi's basket was brimming. There was a satisfaction in the weight, in knowing that that food would help feed people who needed it.
They made their way back through the forest, following the path they'd taken that morning. The guards moved efficiently around them, and Kenina and Peadar walked ahead, discussing strategy in low voices.
"Dae ye think we'll find them?" Mhairi asked quietly. "The women who were taken?"
"Aye. I dae." Alpin's voice was firm. "Kenina's already identified three possible routes Graham's men might've used. We'll track them down, find where they're being held, and bring them home."
"And if we're too late? If they've already been sold?"
"Then we find out who bought them and get them back anyway." He shifted the baskets to one arm so he could take her hand with the other. "I promise ye, Mhairi. We willnae stop."
Mhairi held tight to his hand as they walked, drawing strength from his certainty.
Around them, the forest was peaceful, oblivious to the violence that had shattered the village just beyond its borders.
But they would rebuild. They would recover.
And they would make sure Ashcombe and Graham paid for what they'd done.
CHAPTER THIRTY
The village square was chaos when they returned.
Mhairi stepped into the center of it all, baskets heavy in her arms, and immediately began organizing. Years of managing her father's household, before everything fell apart, had taught her how to impose order on disorder.
"The grain here," she directed, pointing to a cleared space near the rebuilt storehouse. "Stack it neatly so we can count what we have. Meat over there, away from direct sunlight. And someone needs to sort through these herbs before they wilt."
Villagers moved to obey without question, and Mhairi felt a strange flutter of surprise. Those weren't her people, she had no authority there, yet they listened as if she had every right to give orders.
"Me lady, where should we put these berries?"
"In clay pots if ye have them. They'll keep longer that way." She set down her own basket and began sorting through the wild onions she'd gathered. "And make sure everything's labeled. We need tae ken what we have."
Alpin appeared beside her, carrying both their baskets plus several others. He set them down with a grunt of effort.
"Ye're good at this," he observed.
"At what?"
