Moments before...
Ferra pulled the cloth out of her satchel and placed it on the warrior’s shoulder. He winced, and she did too, knowing it was probably painful for her to press on it so. “Here,” she said, picking up his opposite hand and pressing it to the cloth. “Hold pressure until someone comes tae pull ye out of here. It will stop the flow of blood.”
“Thank ye,” he wheezed, his face bloodied and dirtied.
She gave him a faint nod and moved to the next one. Her plan to save Kaiden had changed the moment she stepped onto the battlefield, her heart rending from the sheer amount of loss that she was witnessing on both sides. Ferra knew that battles like this one were necessary, but to know that these Scots thought they were going back home to their families tore at her heart.
Scots shouldn’t be fighting Scots like this.
Ferra knelt by the next warrior in a familiar tartan, noting immediately that he was already gone, the vacant stare finding nothing on the other end. She said a small prayer and closed his eyes, taking her charcoal and marking him so she wouldn’t check him again. There were going to be far too many of these once the fighting stopped.
So she forged on, checking one after the other that were not moving, tending to those that were, and urging them to move to the tree line, where it was safe. When she had stepped out onto the battlefield, Ferra’s first concern was her own safety.
Now, her concern was how they would be able to get the injured out of here, or the dead, so that they could be taken home to their families. She had never seen so much carnage before in her life.
“Och, wot do I have here?”
Ferra spun around to find a leering warrior with the other clan’s colors standing behind her, his sword dripping with blood. “I think ye are a McGregor lass,” he continued, pointing his sword at her dress. “I dinnae think we brought any lasses with us.”
“’Tis yer loss then,” she spat out, reaching for her own dagger. “I would rather fight them than the likes of ye!”
“Fight?” he scoffed, his eyes roving over her body. “Lass, ye arenae made for fighting, but fucking. And I am going tae have a right fine time doing so.”
Ferra gripped the dagger tightly, letting the handle bite into her palm. This blade was average, without the adornments of some, but the point was sharp.
“Come and try,” she challenged.
He laughed and threw his sword aside on the ground. “I can take ye with mah bare hands,” he taunted, a gleam in his eye that Ferra didn’t like. “Come, lass. Show me wot ye have.”
Ferra let out a frustrated yell as she charged at him, but at the last moment, went lower and swept his legs from under him, causing the warrior to fall to the ground in a very ungraceful thump. Ferra was on the warrior in a moment, slitting his throat before he could say or do anything else. The spray coated her hands and sprinkled her dress, but she knew there was no reason to wipe them hard anyway.
It wasn’t likely to be the only blood on her hands this day.
Pushing off the body, Ferra stood, wiping the blade on his shirt instead of hers. “Good riddance,” she spat before turning away.
There, in the distance, was Kaiden. He was fighting a momentous warrior who outweighed him by at least thirty pounds, and towered over her husband much like he did with her.
When Kaiden lifted his sword, Ferra gasped at the sheer amount of blood that covered him. Ferra could only pray that none of it was his. He was still alive and fighting hard.
That was what she came to see.
But then she saw Kaiden go down, his injured leg buckling under the weight, and Ferra couldn’t help it. She screamed his name as she picked up her skirts and raced toward him.
She wouldn’t lose him.
Her heart nearly stopped in her chest as she watched the other warrior lift his sword and lodge it into Kaiden’s shoulder, her husband’s body jerking at the intrusion. Kaiden was losing, and if she didn’t get to him in time, he would die. Not even her knowledge could save him.
“Kaiden!” she called out again, her voice carrying in the din of the other sounds around her. She would hear the clashing of swords in her sleep for months to come.
Another warrior attempted to block her path, and she dodged him at the last moment, barely feeling his fingers slide over her arm as she moved past. No one was going to stop her from reaching Kaiden’s side, even if it meant she would be holding him while he took his last breath.
But as Ferra grew close, she watched the other warrior fall back, the flash of steel in Kaiden’s hand now coated with blood. Kaiden’s lips were moving, but she couldn’t hear his words. Not that it mattered what he was saying.
He wasn’t dead, yet.
With a sob, she reached his side.
“Where are ye hurt? Let me help.”
