“That's my Flora!”
Her uncle's proud voice rang out through the air, dispersing the tension and eliciting cheers from the crowd. The moment broke and Flora stepped away from Connor, lowering her weapons as she went.
“That shows me for taunting ye,” Connor said good-humoredly. “I can only imagine that it goes much the same for Seamus when he tries to do the same.”
She shot Connor a smile and held out his sword.
“Here ye go.”
Connor opened his mouth to say something, but before any words could get out, she turned from him and towards the sound of horses thundering towards them. Her fingers tightened around her sword, already preparing for the worst. It took a split second before she relaxed again, her scowl melting into a smile.
“Go,” Connor urged, standing beside her. “I will finish here and then find ye and Seamus later. Ye can fill me in there.”
She sent Connor a grateful look, amazed at how quickly he had turned into a genuine friend, before she jogged towards the horsemen.
“I hope ye gave him a run for his money,” Liam said by way of greeting as he swung down from his saddle. “I dinnae like to think that Campbell trains his men better than we do.”
She laughed as she threw her arms around the bald old man and squeezed.
“Dinnae fash,” she answered. “I had him disarmed and sweating before too long.”
Liam let out a bark of a laugh as he returned the hug. It was short and friendly, but she knew that they both needed it.
“What are ye doing here so early? The meeting is nae until tonight.”
“I thought it was time I brought the rebels here with me. We can help train and rally the forces. Errik and Iona will join us soon with their own reinforcements. The last thing we need is another sneak attack, letting Campbell weaken us more than he already has.”
She nodded solemnly, any enjoyment she might have gotten from fighting Connor long gone.
“Dinnae look so worried, lass,” Liam chided. “They are watching ye.”
Flora met his eyes that held only fatherly pride and warmth. Taking her strength from him, she squared her shoulders and picked up her head.
“Would ye like to see the village and the progress we have made while the others settle in?” she offered, glancing back to the group of rebels who had ridden with Liam.
“Aye. The men can see to the horses before they go off searching for something to eat and somewhere to sleep,” he answered, half speaking to her and half giving orders.
With a tilt of her head, she and Liam headed off into town, passing the training field as they went.
“They are nowhere near the skill level of Campbell's men, but they can at least hold a sword and protect themselves,” she told Liam quietly as his eyes brushed over the villagers who were still working with Connor.
Liam let out a grunt, but she couldn't tell if it was one of approval or disapproval. She didn't dare ask.
“We have our headquarters set up in the back room of the tavern. Seamus and Connor have reconstructed a map that we have been using to help us plot out our strategy. Meanwhile, those who are nae training are doing what they can to help prepare materials.”
As she spoke, they walked the length of the village, winding up at the door of the blacksmith. The echoes of a hammerslamming into red-hot metal cut her off as they stepped inside the stuffy room.
With his back turned to them, Seamus didn't notice that Flora and Liam had walked inside. She took advantage of his momentary distraction to study his form as he raised his arms over his head only to bring them down, letting the force of the movement mold the sword he was beating into place. His hair, the same color as the flame, crowded the corners of his face, though she didn't need to see it to know he would be wearing a stern and focused expression, his bright blue eyes honed in on his task.
Liam cleared his throat in between swings, cutting into her thoughts and interrupting Seamus's rhythm.
“Ye made it,” Seamus proclaimed as he wiped his damp brow with the back of his arm.
He could hardly be heard over the other two men, who were still furiously working on the swords sprawled out across their awls. Seamus gestured to the door and the trio left the blacksmiths only to be greeted by two familiar young women standing just outside the door.
“Brid! Iona!” Flora cried out in surprise that both girls had appeared. “Is Errik with ye?”
“He is tending to the others, setting them up to help the patrol. He will be along shortly,” Iona answered, her voice tired and soft.
