about your wound?”
“’Tis fine.”
“If you move too much it will start bleed—”
He shot her a cool glance. “If we do nae get out of here before the men arrive, we will both be dead.”
She stiffened in the saddle, her eyes growing cold. “I only . . .” Sarra focused straight ahead.
At her silence, he dismissed the edge of concern in her voice. She only cared about him because her blasted hide was involved. Nae that he wanted her to care. As far as he was concerned, when the day came that they parted ways, it wouldna be soon enough.
Hooves thudded upon snow as Giric led his horse to the river frozen over. He halted before the thick ice, studied the water rush beneath. Confident it was thick enough to support them, he led his horse onto a snow-free patch and dropped the reins, then he started toward where they’d fallen.
“Sir Knight?”
At the fear in her voice he turned. “I will be back in a trice.” He hurried to where their tracks began, then, using the bough, he backed toward Sarra, erasing their tracks to the river.
A sharp crack echoed as he stepped on the ice.
“Sir Knight!”
Giric tossed the bough onto the bank. “’Tis the river making new ice. As long as we remain near the edge, we should be safe.” He picked up the reins and headed north. “We will stay on the clear patches as we will leave nay tracks.”
With a frown she scanned where he’d wiped away their trail to the river. “Will it work?”
“Aye, I have used this tactic many times before.”
Her face paled.
Blast it!
They walked in silence. The clack of hooves against the ice blended with the rush of water below. The ripple of wind increased.
Caught within the gust, blustery white clouds swirled about them and sent a fine spray of snow into his face and down his neck. Giric tugged his cape tighter and shielded his face.
The muted thrum of men and horses echoed a distance behind them.
Bedamned, he’d hoped to have more of a lead. “Come on, lad.” Hurrying his step, he led them around the curve of the river before their pursuers came into sight.
Another gust swept through the surrounding trees and shook the branches. The thick pelt of snow covering a nearby fir broke loose and showered them.
With disgust he glanced at their tracks in the freshly fallen snow.
“Sir Knight?”
“Shhh. Your voice will carry in the wind.”
Sarra leaned forward. “If I dismounted,” she whispered, “I could trail behind us with a branch and erase our trail.” As much as he didna want her endangering herself further, her suggestion held merit. Léod and his men would deduct that he and Sarra could have escaped by the river. Any tracks he and Sarra left, however carefully they traveled, would lead their pursuers to them that much quicker.
Giric halted his horse and helped her down. After finding her a pine bough, he picked up the reins and started ahead. “Be careful and do nae stray near the middle.”
They made their way north following the curves of the fast-flowing river. Sarra worked with quiet efficiency covering their tracks. Every so often the distant sound of men calling to one another confirmed their pursuers were conducting a desperate search.
He scanned the stand of trees on both banks. They had to find a way to lose them. But how?
A sharp crack echoed under his feet.
Giric jumped, then called himself every kind of fool. ’Twas naught but new ice forming—except he caught sight of a crack slowly working its way along the ice beneath his feet.
He sighed with relief as the fracture stopped a short distance away. Though several inches of ice lay below them, he led his horse closer to shore. With their pursuers so close, he wouldna risk a mishap now.
At his next step, another crack quickly split on his left. Then another arced in a wide vein to his right. The ice below him dropped a degree. Saint’s breath! “Sarra, get off the ice!”
Another crack.
His horse snorted, and hooves clattered on the
“’Tis fine.”
“If you move too much it will start bleed—”
He shot her a cool glance. “If we do nae get out of here before the men arrive, we will both be dead.”
She stiffened in the saddle, her eyes growing cold. “I only . . .” Sarra focused straight ahead.
At her silence, he dismissed the edge of concern in her voice. She only cared about him because her blasted hide was involved. Nae that he wanted her to care. As far as he was concerned, when the day came that they parted ways, it wouldna be soon enough.
Hooves thudded upon snow as Giric led his horse to the river frozen over. He halted before the thick ice, studied the water rush beneath. Confident it was thick enough to support them, he led his horse onto a snow-free patch and dropped the reins, then he started toward where they’d fallen.
“Sir Knight?”
At the fear in her voice he turned. “I will be back in a trice.” He hurried to where their tracks began, then, using the bough, he backed toward Sarra, erasing their tracks to the river.
A sharp crack echoed as he stepped on the ice.
“Sir Knight!”
Giric tossed the bough onto the bank. “’Tis the river making new ice. As long as we remain near the edge, we should be safe.” He picked up the reins and headed north. “We will stay on the clear patches as we will leave nay tracks.”
With a frown she scanned where he’d wiped away their trail to the river. “Will it work?”
“Aye, I have used this tactic many times before.”
Her face paled.
Blast it!
They walked in silence. The clack of hooves against the ice blended with the rush of water below. The ripple of wind increased.
Caught within the gust, blustery white clouds swirled about them and sent a fine spray of snow into his face and down his neck. Giric tugged his cape tighter and shielded his face.
The muted thrum of men and horses echoed a distance behind them.
Bedamned, he’d hoped to have more of a lead. “Come on, lad.” Hurrying his step, he led them around the curve of the river before their pursuers came into sight.
Another gust swept through the surrounding trees and shook the branches. The thick pelt of snow covering a nearby fir broke loose and showered them.
With disgust he glanced at their tracks in the freshly fallen snow.
“Sir Knight?”
“Shhh. Your voice will carry in the wind.”
Sarra leaned forward. “If I dismounted,” she whispered, “I could trail behind us with a branch and erase our trail.” As much as he didna want her endangering herself further, her suggestion held merit. Léod and his men would deduct that he and Sarra could have escaped by the river. Any tracks he and Sarra left, however carefully they traveled, would lead their pursuers to them that much quicker.
Giric halted his horse and helped her down. After finding her a pine bough, he picked up the reins and started ahead. “Be careful and do nae stray near the middle.”
They made their way north following the curves of the fast-flowing river. Sarra worked with quiet efficiency covering their tracks. Every so often the distant sound of men calling to one another confirmed their pursuers were conducting a desperate search.
He scanned the stand of trees on both banks. They had to find a way to lose them. But how?
A sharp crack echoed under his feet.
Giric jumped, then called himself every kind of fool. ’Twas naught but new ice forming—except he caught sight of a crack slowly working its way along the ice beneath his feet.
He sighed with relief as the fracture stopped a short distance away. Though several inches of ice lay below them, he led his horse closer to shore. With their pursuers so close, he wouldna risk a mishap now.
At his next step, another crack quickly split on his left. Then another arced in a wide vein to his right. The ice below him dropped a degree. Saint’s breath! “Sarra, get off the ice!”
Another crack.
His horse snorted, and hooves clattered on the
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