Jamie tightened his hold on Claire’s hand,
pulling her as she stumbled up the hill, over a minefield of rocks and steep
terrain. They’d cleared the open meadow and a quick glance back showed no sign
of pursuers. The cut on his cheek had stopped bleeding and the cooling early
evening air stung the cuts on his hand, splinters and gouges he’d gotten while
protecting his face from the broken chair leg he’d deflected. He didn’t yet
notice the scrapes on his back, the bruises forming on his neck from the man’s
strangling hands.
Jamie turned his head to look at her and paused
mid step, shocked at how pale her face was. “Claire, do ye need to stop?”
She blinked hard, her face strained. “No. Don’t
stop. I’m fine.”
He didn’t believe her but had no intention of
arguing at the moment. If they could get to the other side, get just a bit more
distance, he would breathe easier. They ascended the peak, lungs and legs
aching and surveyed what lay beyond. Trees in abundance, unlike the open land
behind them. “We can set up the fly in those trees for the night. Should be
sheltered enough to keep a fire going.”
“You don’t think anyone will be coming for us?”
She bent over, her hands pressed into her hips as her breath slowed.
“I dinna ken for sure, but no, I think he was
alone. In any case we’ve not much choice in the matter. We need to rest and
patch ourselves up, aye?”
Tori