Perhaps this was Duncan’s father’s legacy and a continued punishment for his sins—a life of war and wretchedness for his doomed son who had inherited his wrath.allgood deeds were rewarded, Duncan supposed, andallsinners were eventual y escorted tohell.
* * *
Hours later, the sound of footsteps swishing through the grass startled Duncan awake. He hadfallen asleep, sitting up against the stone. His gaze darted to Amelia. She was resting quietly, wrapped in the fur.
Shaking off the heavy haze of slumber, he sat up.
Everything was as it should be. The bags were untouched.
Turner was nearby. But then Duncan heard the faint whisper of footsteps again.
Slowly, with careful, hushed movements, he reached for his axe and closed his grip around thewell-worn handle. If the wolf had returned to make a meal of them, he would not think twice. He wouldkillher. He would do what was necessary to protect Amelia.
He rose to his feet and moved without a sound around the ashes in the fire pit. The stars wereallgone now, the sky a deathly black. Even the air was thick with the suffocating aroma of blood and doom.
The footsteps grew closer, and he moved forward like a cat stalking its prey. His gaze traveled from east to west, searching the landscape. He’d never felt more attuned to danger. He would protect Amelia, even at the cost of his own life.
The visitor appeared then,illuminated suddenly by the moon, which emerged from behind a wispy cloud.
“Elliott,” Duncan said, lowering the axe to his side. “What are you doing back here? Where’s your father?”
“He stayed with the flock,” the boy said. “But I ran away. Ifollowedyou. Istalkedyou.”
Duncan frowned. “What do you mean, you stalked me?
Why would you do such a thing?”
“Because I know who you are. You’re the Butcher, and you’re a viciouskiller.”
A hot, burning star from the sky dropped into the pit of Duncan’s stomach. He wanted to disagree, to say he was no such thing, but he could not speak. At least not those words.
“I’m going tokillyou,”Elliottsaid, drawing his sword. “Then I’llbe a hero, just like you are.”
Duncan shook his head. “You don’t know what you’re saying, Elliott. Put down the sword. Go back to your father and drive your flock to market.”
“Nay, I want to take your head to London.” He raised the sword and shouted a wild cry for justice, then dashed forward.
Duncan reacted on instinct. The boy came at him, and he swung his axe.
To defend myself. To protect my identity. To saveAmelia.
Elliott’s head flew threw the air, spinning like aballkicked by a boy in a stable yard.…
The wolf watched with indifference from the crest of thehill, her tongue hanging out while she panted.
“Fook!”
Duncan startled awake and crawled away from the stone as fast as he could. He couldn’t breathe! His stomach was churning with a sickening fire that was burning his guts. He crawled through the grass, needing to expel the contents of his stomach, but his body only heaved violently with a dry and pointless purge of emptiness.
“Duncan, what is it?”
He felt Amelia’s hands on his back and tried totellhimself it was not real. It had not happened. It was only a dream.
Elliottwas not dead. The boy had notfollowedhim here.
He put a hand on his forehead andcollapsedonto his back. “Ah, Jesus.”
“What happened?” she asked. “What’s wrong?”
