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She needed me.

“Cataline!” I bellowed, taking off at a dead run for the village, my sword still dangling from my hand.

“Cataline!”

As I pounded past groups of sparring warriors, they all—as one—fell in behind me, sensing my panic.

“Find her!” I barked, remembering Vrogul’s vow. “He’ll have to get through us first!”

I’m not certain how I knew ‘twas danger which had caught up with her—with us—but her fear hadn’t diminished. If John had managed to make his way through the stones and follow her to Islay, then she must be terrified.

But I would find her and keep her safe.

Around me, I felt my warriors peeling off to protect the village, just as we’d trained. But my focus was entirely on finding my Mate.

Our Bond led me toward the far side of the village, where the women had gathered to bake bread today. Cataline wasn’t there, but had she been? I skidded to a stop in the street, frantically twisting in circles, pleading with my Kteer and our Bond to show me where she was.

Had John taken her? If so, what direction?

“Cataline!” I bellowed again, my own pain ripping through my voice, as others piled into the street, drawn by my calls.

“Where is she?” Rowena asked, and someone else called, “She was just here a moment ago!”

“Wasn’t Ewan playing out here? Did he see⁠—”

“What’s Maardok yelling about now?”

“I’m cold, someone fetch my cloak if we’re going to be standing around here.”

“Cataline’s gone missing?”

Their words spilled over me, easy to ignore as I focused on my missing Mate. Except…

Ewan.

If he’d been playing here, did he see what had happened? Cataline’s fear was infecting my panic, and I yelled for him.

“Ewan! Lad, where are ye?”

The street was full of people, and not one of them was my son; I hadn’t thought my panic could get any worse⁠—

Then I saw the lads.

Brannok and Kaldun stood backed against the wall of Ammal’s cottage with their tusks bared. Kaldun had both hands wrapped around a length of firewood, holding it as if ‘twere an ax. Neither of them was looking at me. They were watching the gap between the cottages, and the path down toward the water, and the street beyond, the way a sentry watches.

Two kitlings, neither of them past seven winters, standing guard.

I knew what they were guarding.

“Where is he?” I barked, striding toward them.

Kaldun lifted the firewood higher. Brannok stepped in front of him, which was the bravest and stupidest thing I have ever watched a small orc do, and the pair of them gave ground together as I came on, backing up without once turning to run.

Brave wee fools.

“Ye cannae—” Brannok’s voice cracked. “We’re no’ to say.”

I didn’t have time for this.