Amelia’s heart wasstillthrashing about in her chest when she spotted asmall, golden-haired boy in a kilt crawling out from inside ahollowlog. She glanced around to see if he was alone. He stood up and gaped at them, horror-struck.
“I thought you were the wolf!” he cried, and Amelia glanced down at the knife in his hand. His cheeks were smeared with filth, his hair matted.
Duncan slipped his sword back into the scabbard and strode forward, though he kept a tight grip on his axe. “What wolf do you speak of, lad?”
“The one who’s stalking my pa’s flock!”
Duncan stopped a few feet away from the boy. “Your father’s a drover?”
“Aye. But it’s been two days since I’ve seen him.”
Amelia rose to her feet and brushed the flecks of moss and dirt from her skirts. Was this another ten-year-old boy abandoned by his father in the Scottish wilderness to learn how to survive alone? Perhaps he was so desperate, he’d hoped tokillthem and skin them for dinner.
These Scots … She was trying to understand them, but sometimes, sometimes, she simply could not.
Al at once, the boy began to weep, and she darted forward to console him—but Duncan raised a hand to hold her back.
He slipped his axe into his belt. “Now, now, lad,” he said in a firm voice. “You didwellwith your aim. It was strong and true.” He knelt down on one knee.
The boy’s frail little body shuddered with sobs. “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to!”
“No harm done. Nowtellme what you’re doing out here.
You’re separated from your father, you say?”
The child nodded, and his chin quivered while he fought to control his voice.
“What’s your name?” Duncan asked.
“ElliottMacDonald.”
Duncan gaveElliotta moment tocollecthimself. He waited patiently while the boy wiped his tears and stopped crying.
“Is your father on his way to the markets?” Duncan asked.
“Aye.”
«Well, I know the drovers’ trail. It’s not far from here. We can take you to him.”
Amelia careful y approached, and this time Duncan let her pass. “Are youallright,Elliott?” She bent forward and rested her hands on her knees. “Are you hurt, or hungry?”
Elliottglanced uncertainly at Duncan.
“It’sallright, lad,” he said. “She may be English, but she’s a friend.”
“She talks funny.”
“Aye, that she does.”
Amelia felt the tension drain out of the moment and smiled. “Yes, I talk funny in this part of the world, but I promise, you have nothing to fear from me.”
The boy studied them both, his eyes darting from one to the other, then slipped his knife into his boot.
Duncan rose to his feet. “There’s some sugar biscuits in my saddlebag.” He tossed his head in the direction of his horse. Thankful y, the animal had returned after being spooked by the spear whizzing past his head. He was waiting by the tree, where the spear wasstilllodged in the bark.
Amelia gathered her skirts in her fists and pushed her way through the thick undergrowth of moss and ground cover.
She reached the horse and took hold of the dangling reins, then led him back to where Duncan andElliottwere waiting.
