“I was wrong. The colony is much bigger than I thought.” Shea’s voice was grim. It had probably grown in the weeks that it had taken for Eva to get someone to listen to her.
Two bandisox, ones that dwarfed those in the trees, slunk closer. A high-pitched chittering escaped them as they broke off to circle Shea and the others. The mare whirled as one of the bandisox came close, rising onto her hind legs and trying to stomp the rodent under her hooves. The bandisox darted out of the way, letting out a high screech of its own. Another sought to take advantage of the mare’s distraction, sailing across the grass to attack the hindquarters.
Eva let out a war cry and hit it with a rock she grabbed from the ground. There was a pained grunt as the bandisox landed before turning on Eva. It didn’t make it far before the mare gave a rear kick, sending it sailing back into the grass.
This seemed to be a signal for the rest. They surged forward.
The Trateri next to Shea let out bloodcurdling cries as they met the surge with naked blades and a fearsome ferocity. The next few minutes were a tangle of images as the Trateri fought off the bandisox, the mare at their side.
Shea wielded her blade against several as they converged on her. She suffered several bites as she stabbed and swung. One landed on her shoulder, its small teeth sinking into her back, before Trenton knocked it off her.
A mad light flared in his eyes before he turned to attack the next bandisox with a battle cry.
It wasn’t long before they had killed all those that attacked them. Shea panted as she watched her surroundings, bandisox dead all around them.
“I think that’s the last,” Fiona said, coming to stand beside Shea. She clapped Shea on the shoulder. “Glad we tagged along with you. This was fun. We should do it again sometime.”
Shea eyed the other woman with an expression close to disbelief. Fun. Right. Their definitions differed wildly.
“Your throwaway did a pretty good job herself,” Fiona said, gesturing with her chin to where Eva stood, exhausted, the mare dropping her chin onto Eva’s shoulder. “Better than some of us, anyway.”
Fiona eyed Charles with a hint of distaste as the other man limped back towards them. He’d tried to abandon them when the bandisox attacked, leaving them to fend for themselves. Unfortunately, the bandisox had surrounded him so he hadn’t gotten far.
“He’s not a warrior,” Shea said in his defense.
“Neither is the Lowlander,” Trenton said in a soft voice at her side.
“Not everybody is made for battle,” Shea returned.
The quiet that answered her made the others’ stance on Charles clear. He’d lost respect by trying to run. Shea didn’t fault him for his actions. Everyone’s response to danger was different. The Trateri didn’t see it that way, and there was a definite difference in how the others treated him, with the exception of Clark, who greeted the other man with relief.
Shea turned away and began walking into the forest.
“Where are you going?” Braden asked.
“There’s a nest somewhere around here. We need to take care of it, or else Eva will have the same problem in a week or two.”
Fiona and her men pulled themselves up. Fiona stepped forward. “My men and I will help. We’re not bad trackers.”
Shea gave them a nod of appreciation.
Eva patted the mare on the neck before joining them. “I will help as well since I’m the reason you’re here.”
Trenton and Wilhelm didn’t offer their services. They didn’t need to. Where Shea went, they did as well. Yet Shea couldn’t help noticing the respect on both of their faces when they looked at Eva.
“Clark, take Charles and head back. This could take a while, and I’m sure you both have other duties,” Shea said.
Charles’ face darkened. “We can help. You don’t have to protect us.”
“Yes, you can,” Shea agreed. “You can write up the description and a few points from this experience, and then make sure it gets into the hands of the rest of the herd masters. They need to know what to watch out for so they can protect their herds.”
Shea wasn’t lying. The task was an important one. Even if it hadn’t been, she would have found some way to send Charles back. He wasn’t suited for this work. Nothing wrong with that, but it didn’t change facts.
The look on Charles’ face said he doubted her reasoning but a glance at Braden told her he didn’t want to argue in front of the general.
Clark covered for his friend. “Of course, Shea. We’ll make sure that it’s done.”
The two set off towards camp.
“That was kind of you,” Braden observed.
“Not particularly. I needed it done.”
He made a hmm sound that was neither agreement nor disagreement.
Shea took the lead, trusting the others to follow. It was going to be a long afternoon.
CHAPTER TEN
SHEA WAITED as Trenton and Wilhelm conducted their checks of Fallon’s tent—though she didn’t see much point to it, given the guards stationed at all times at the entrance. She was tired, and the scratches and bites she’d received from the bandisox stung. She just wanted to get inside, bathe, and rest for a little bit before dinner.
Trenton gave her a nod, indicating it was safe. She pushed past him, grateful the outer chamber was empty.
Passing through the partition that separated the private quarters from the public ones, she headed for the mound of furs piled on their bed. A bath would take time to draw up. In the meantime, the bed called to her. A short platform covered by a thick mattress, it was the heaviest piece of furniture in the room. It was elegant in its simplicity, not approaching the ornateness or heaviness of a bed found in a Lowland or Highland home. The mattress managed to be soft and firm at the same time, a welcoming cloud of comfort that Shea was loath to leave more often than not. Before Fallon, she would have said that a soft place to sleep was an unimportant luxury. A few nights in his bed had changed her mind.
After sleeping on the hard ground last night and then running around the forest chasing bandisox, she was sore—something she would never have noticed before her time with Fallon and his bed. She’d become weak. Dependent on its stupid softness.
She studied the mattress with half a mind to demand its absence, or at least consider sleeping on the ground more often. She’d never do it, too addicted to the way it cradled bones long abused by the work she demanded of them, but it was a thought.
She turned and sat, falling sideways onto the pillow. Another comfort that she wouldn’t have said was important before now.
The pillow made an odd crinkling sound. She frowned. It had never done that before. She sat back up and stared down at it, noticing the edge of paper sticking out from under it. A note. It must have shifted when Shea had head-planted onto the pillow.