“Get some rest then. My sword is at the ready.”
She smiled faintly as she settled on the blanket and tugged the rest of it over her. She also kept her cloak on. A moment later Freya nudged her way under the blanket and curled up by her chest. He was right. Freya would warn her if there was any danger. She just hoped her pet stayed close and did not give in to the rare temptation to wander.
*
Gybbon woke up and stared into the moonlit forest wondering what woke him before the sun rose. Jester was making no sounds to wake him. He turned and looked across the small fire pit at his companion. She was asleep, and right next to her, staring back at him, was her odd little cat.
The cat showed no sign of alarm, but he was surprised it stayed with her in the blanket. He had always thought that cats loved to roam the night. This one seemed perfectly content to stay curled up with the woman. Shaking his head, he decided he had been awakened simply by a need to make certain everything was quiet. He closed his eyes, determined to get a little more sleep, and hoped Sigimor would help her.
If Sigimor did not, or could not, then the Murrays would, he decided. Falsely accused and with a set of brothers close on her trail, she was going to need help. He began to go through the long, long list of his kinsmen and connections to think of which would be the best one to approach. It was enough to put him peacefully back to sleep.
Chapter Three
Someone was shaking her, Mora realized, as she became fully aware of a big hand gripping her by the shoulder. She swatted at it even as she felt sleep loosen its hold on her. Then a familiar furry head butted her and rubbed against her face. It was the loud purr that finally caused her to open her eyes. Freya sat tidily next to a pair of thick deer hide boots. She frowned as she slowly looked up long legs, over a kilt and a shirt, until her eyes finally rested upon a face.
Her sleep-clouded mind cleared abruptly as she stared into a pair of bright green eyes. Last night she had agreed to allow this man to take her to Dubheidland. In the clear light of day, she now questioned that decision. Freya leaned against his boot and Mora decided to trust in her pet. It was obvious that Freya trusted the man, or that fine boot she rubbed her head against would be shredded. Carefully, Mora sat up and rubbed her eyes.
A minute later she became acutely aware of needing a little privacy. She was just standing up when Freya spun to face the road and hissed. When the cat dashed to her side, still staring at the road and growling deep in her throat, Mora picked her up.
“What is wrong with her?” Gybbon asked.
“She hears someone riding our way. I need to hide again.”
“How could she know?”
“I dinnae ken. The same way she can tell a wee mousie is running through the grass farther away than we can see, I think. She has been a great help. I always kenned when someone was riding our way and would hide.” She put Freya in her bag, pulled her hood up to cover her hair, and darted into the trees.
Gybbon grabbed a branch, snapping it off the nearest tree, and brushed away all sign of her footprints. Tossing it back into the trees, he wondered why he was acting as if that cursed cat had just warned her of danger. He stared toward the wood she had run into, but could not see her.
Next, he looked toward the road as he folded up the blanket she had slept on. A moment later, four men came riding into view, pausing to stare at his campsite, which was much more visible in the daylight. When they cautiously turned off the road and rode toward him, he took his porridge pot off the fire, drew his sword, and faced them.
“We dinnae mean any harm, sir,” said the one in the lead, looking almost apologetic with his blue eyes and blond hair tumbling around his face as he bent his head in greeting.
“Then why do four of ye approach a lone mon?”
“We are looking for someone.”
“Who?”
He glanced at the man just to the right of the man he was speaking to. He was leaning forward in his saddle and looked as if he wanted to be the one to speak. He also had a badly scratched face. Looking at the ones close to his eyes, Gybbon was surprised the man still had eyes. Looking a little more closely, he decided they were also too red and swelling somewhat.
“Our young cousins. A woman and a boy of about six or seven. Their parents recently died and in their grief and fear, they saw danger everywhere, and finally fled.”
Gybbon looked past the three men in front of him and saw the young bruised man at the back. He was slowly shaking his head and Gybbon chanced a nod of acknowledgment, rubbing his chin while he stared at the ground as if he was thinking. That young man, he was sure, was Murdoch, and Mora was right. The boy was not in league with his brothers. Sadly, she was also right to think he might not survive not joining with them wholeheartedly.
“I have seen neither a young boy nor a young woman. Anything that might help me ken they are the ones ye seek if and when I might espy them?”
“They are both fair-haired. The boy has a lot of red in his hair though. The woman carries a cat with her everywhere.”
“A cat?”
“Aye, I fear so. It has caused some talk amongst the villagers, but she willnae give it up. But ye say ye have nay seen anyone like that?”
“Nay, and I have been on the road for nearly a week.”
“She probably hid whene’er she saw ye,” said the man Gybbon guessed was Robert. “She wouldnae trust any mon. Never did.”
Gybbon could see why. Polite as the one talking to him was, Gybbon knew he could not be trusted either. He did not wish these men anywhere close to Mora. It was going to take some hard thinking to figure out a way to leave this site without meeting up with these men.
“Then I willnae see her, will I? Now, it has been fine meeting ye, but I have somewhere I am trying to reach as soon as possible.”
“Weel, if ye do happen to see her or her wee brother, just send word to the Ogilvys at Wasterburn. Just go down this road and ye will pass it. Ye will at least meet someone who can tell ye the right way to go.”
“Got it. Wasterburn, just down this road. As ye wish.” He glanced at Robert and said, “I would get those scratches seen to and cleaned out because they look to be starting to fester.”
They all muttered something he suspected was supposed to be courteous thanks and rode off. Murdoch cast a quick look back at him and, after a glance at his brothers, gave Gybbon another nod. That boy was walking a very thin line, Gybbon thought, and shook his head. He turned back to place his porridge pot on the fire again and wait for Mora to return.
*
Mora slipped away from the spot she had chosen to hide in and took care of the business she needed to. As she used some of the water she carried to wash up, she watched Freya do the same. She had been scolding herself for taking the cat but began to think Freya would not have let her leave her behind. Mora had to accept that the animal was far too attached to her, but she would not do anything to end that, not even if it would stop the whispers about her in the town.
Freya came trotting back and got in the bag. Picking it up, Mora cautiously approached the campsite. The sight of her cousins facing Gybbon had chilled her blood. He had stood calmly holding his sword at the ready and Duncan had done the talking. She had winced as she had caught sight of Robert’s face, not realizing how much damage Freya had done. He was going to be scarred and that was going to infuriate him as he was a bit vain. Mora scratched her cat’s head and knew she could never leave the animal alone anywhere near Robert.