He dropped into one of the chairs, clutching his side as he did so.
“That’s why you don’t have a need for servants at Shadowlawn,” she murmured.
“Indeed.”
Cosette shook her head and set about searching the small area to try and find anything that she might be able to use to remove the bullet from his side. She returned empty-handed, only to witness another marvelous sight. Davien was gone, but the black crow was in his place. He had the same patch of blood on his raven-colored feathers, but with his beak, it burrowed into the area and eventually withdrew a tiny, silver ball, that it spat out onto the surface of the table.
It cocked its head, those beady bird eyes staring at her. And then she heard his voice in her head.I thought it might be easier to dress the wound in this form.
Cosette didn’t say anything. She simply tore off another strip of her petticoat and gently dressed the bird’s midsection. It observed her the entire time, but when she finally tied a neat knot to hold it in place, it whispered in her mind.
You should get some sleep.
“But who’s going to stand watch if something happens?” she asked.
For answer, the bird merely gave a caw and flew out the window.
She stared after it in stupefaction. “I suppose that’s my answer.” She went on to grumble something about an ‘ungrateful man-bird’ before she removed her soiled gown. She would have given anything to not have to don the same garment again, but since she had no other choice, she laid it over the back of the chair. She kicked off her shoes and undid her panniers and tossed them to the side. She removed what was left of her petticoat, although she rolled it up into a ball to use as a makeshift pillow.
Clad in her shift, stays, and stockings, Cosette curled up near the fire. She didn’t know how she would ever go to sleep, her mind was racing so, but it wasn’t long before exhaustion took over.
~ ~ ~
Cosette woke up with a cramp in her leg, only to find that her arm had also fallen asleep from lying on the hard wood floor. She tried to rub out the sensation of pins and needles, the blood trying to flow back into her limb, when she heard the sound of the crow.
Afraid that it was a warning of approaching danger, she quickly ran outside—to come face to face in broad daylight with a boy of about ten years of age. They both stopped and regarded the other, waiting to see if there was a potential threat. He was the first to recover as he took a bite of his half-eaten apple. The sound of that crunch had Cosette’s mouth watering. She’d ignored most of her supper the night before, and she found she was suddenly famished.
“What ye be doing in my uncle’s cabin?” the boy asked.
Since she couldn’t very well tell him the truth, she decided on a small, white lie. “Je eu perdu.” Claiming that she was lost sounded much better than being pursued.
He took another bite of the red fruit and her stomach let out a growl. “Are ye hungry?”
He reached into his knapsack and pulled out another delicious apple. He tossed it to her. She caught it in mid-air and took a hearty bite. Juice trailed down her chin and she wiped it away with her hand.“Mercie, monsieur.”
“So what’s your story?” he asked.
“Mon recit?”she echoed.
“Yea.” He shrugged. “What are ye doing in—?”
A rustling in the nearby bushes caught his attention. Cosette held her breath praying that if it was Davien he hadn’t transformed into the wolf. She didn’t want the boy to be scared out of his wits. But what appeared was something completely different.
“Is that your cat?” the boy asked, as the feline sauntered closer.
“Uh . . .” Cosette frowned, although her gaze didn’t waver from the animal. She watched as it curled around the boy’s legs, purring. She tried to ask Davien if he was getting ready to play some nasty trick, but there was no reply. Obviously he was the only one who was capable of conveying silent messages through the mind.
As she feared, the cat suddenly reached out and hissed, attacking the boy with his claws. “Hey, now!” the lad shouted, but the fur of anger at his feet was relentless. It wasn’t until the cat finally breeched the boys trousers did he run off.
Cosette watched him go with a sigh. When she turned back around, Davien had his arms crossed, leaning against a tree, once again the arrogant, human male. “Was that necessary?”
He lifted a dark brow. “He might have been a lad, but he is still a threat.” He pushed off the tree and strode past her.
“I see that your pleasant demeanor has returned.”
He didn’t reply.
“How is your wound?” she asked.
