“Moira.” Her name sounded so far away. As if she were being called from the other side of a long tunnel. “Lass, wake up.” Warmth wrapped around her and she welcomed it as the fog overwhelmed her and she slipped into black oblivion.
Chapter Twenty-One
Fear like Errolhad never experienced afore punched him in the gut.
They were safe under the canopy of trees, but not really. The archer was still out there, and they were vulnerable. Moira couldn’t run, Hell. He pushed his hands through his short hair. She couldn’t even walk if she wanted to. All the color had drained from her face and her skin had taken on an unhealthy waxy pallor.
He was breathing heavily as he assessed their situation. Moira should be breathing heavily as well from running to safety, but her breaths were shallow. She was losing a lot of blood and he needed to stop it.
Moving quickly, he gathered moss to use as a poultice and dropped beside Moira. Her eyes remained closed as he pulled away the tunic he had wrapped around her waist and studied her wound. The arrow appeared to have gone clean through which was good. It meant he wouldn’t have to pull it out or through, which would cause her even more pain. It didn’t look like the arrow had hit any of her vital organs, for that he was thankful, but she was still bleeding profusely. Fisting the moss, he packed it against the wound as compact as he could, then he ripped strips of his tunic away and tied them tight around her waist to keep the moss in place and apply pressure. Once he’d tied off the last of four strips, he took what was left of his tunic and covered thestrip and knotted it.
Confident that it would suffice until he could get to their supplies so he could stitch Moira’s wound closed.
Errol didn’t want to leave her side, but there was naught he could do for her right now and he needed to stay vigilant.
The man who shot Moira would need to make his way from his hiding place closer to them. He would be daft to come straight through the hollow so Errol was for certs he was taking the long way and walking the circumference of the hollow and would approach them from what would be their back, but Errol was ready.
The bastard that shot at them? That shot Moira and put her life in danger?
He would be dead afore the day was over. It was a vow Errol looked forward to fulfilling.
But first, Errol would find out what he was doing following them. Threatening them. Trying to strike them down.
He was angry with himself that he got so lost in Moira that he hadn’t realized they were being followed. Mayhap it was the same person that had been following Moira afore he had caught up with her.
Where had the man gone to disappear from the path earlier?
Errol didn’t ken. But he would get the answers he sought.
It was his fault that Moira lay on the ground, her life in the balance. If she died, if he lost her, he would never forgive himself. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself.
A snap in the distance drew Errol’s attention. He squinted into the trees, trying to see what was making the noise. There was no way the man shooting at them from the clearing had already made his way around. Also, the noise was so faint. Someone adept at not being discovered was behind them.
He looked to Moira but there was no need to warn her to stay quiet. She wasn’t going to make a sound.
Errol waited, muscles tight, his hand on the hilt of his sword.
A familiar whistle sounded. To someone unfamiliar with the sound, they would think it were birdsong. Errol kenned better. Their luck was about to change.
He whistled back and waited.
Moira remained unmoving on the ground at his feet.
With a glimmer of hope, Errol repeated the whistle.
There. Not far from them, the leaves rustled, branches moving as a figure made its way to them. Soon, Robbie stepped through, joining them.
Errol stepped up and grasped his cousin’s arm and gave him a small smile.
“Robbie, what are ye doing here?” Errol’s voice was low as he asked, relieved to see his cousin.
“Yer da sent me. He kens what ye are doing.” His eyes swung to Moira, who remained still, and his eyes rounded. “What has happened? She’s injured?” His brows drew down in concern. “Will she live?”
“Aye,” he said, and he believed it. He had to. Shewouldlive. He was demanding that she live. “But she needs stitches and I cannae get to our supplies or our horses. There’s an archer.” Errol dipped his head to the far side of the hollow. “He was shooting from there. I thought he was a bad shot until he hit Moira. The bastard. He will pay with his life,” he spat. “I believe he is skirting the circumference of the clearing to come upon us. Mayhap with newfound confidence since he managed to hit one of his targets.”
“My men arenae far from here. We’ve been following yer trail for some time.”
“Thank ye. We obviously can use yer men right about now.”
