Dark Warrior by Donna Fletcher Page A

woods muttering several oaths beneath his breath.
    Michael did not return for supper, still Mary shared an enjoyable meal with Glenda, Terence, and Patricia. She listened as the three exchanged stories of their childhoods and talked of the future with a certainty that brought a smile to Mary’s face.
    It was a pleasant evening that reminded her of her own dreams of the future with family and friends, so that when the evening came to an end she felt a sudden sadness.
    She climbed into bed alone and, though a fire heated the cottage, she felt chilled huddled under the covers warding off not only the cold but loneliness.
    She had no one, her family was gone, the loving couple that had cared for her was lost to her forever, and Magnus would find somewhere safe for her but keep his distance as before, for her protection. Where did that leave her but alone? She shivered against her forced isolation.
    Even sleep refused to befriend her, and she did not know how long she lay there. It seemed like an eternity, and whenever a shadow drifted into the room she thought Michael had returned. When she realized he had not, she felt disappointment. As the night went on she concluded that Michael would not join her. Was he busy tending to matters? Or had he simply chosen not to share the bed with her any longer? Both thoughts concerned her; after all, he was all she had at the moment and she missed him beside her.
    She attempted to remind herself that self-pity did little good and perhaps it was better this way. She feared becoming dependent on him or perhaps she feared she might grow to care for him. It was so easy with him always around, making certain she was safe and secure. Perhaps she could get used to his presence, dark and ominous as he was, find a light inside him. She could, if they had more time together.
    â€œMary.”
    Michael startled her and she jumped, then she smiled.
    He slipped in beside her, and they lay next to each other barely touching, but it did not matter. He was finally there with her and she felt at ease, and so very relieved. She convinced herself that her growing dependence on him was born out of uncertainty and fear and that once her fate was known she would release him into the shadows from where he had come.
    She drifted off to sleep and her dream came fast and swift.
    She was running on a long stretch of barren road, her breathing labored as if she had run a long distance when suddenly her parents appeared on either side of her.
    They looked healthy and strong as they did in life, though younger.
    â€œKeep alert to your senses,” her father said.
    â€œTrust your heart.” Her mother smiled .
    â€œYou must fight,” her father said.
    â€œYou have the strength,” her mother said.
    â€œLove will be your only weapon,” her father warned as he reached out and grabbed her hand.
    Mary woke with a start; Michael had tight hold of her hand.
    â€œI am sorry to wake you, but we must leave at once.”
    She shook away what little sleep remained and turned wide eyes on him.
    He answered her silent query as he helped her out of bed.
    â€œDecimus has found our trail; he is not far from the village.”

Chapter 7
    M ary did not know how long she slept but it mattered not, for she was startled fully awake by the terrifying news. A sack of food and her freshly washed garments were wrapped in a plaid cloth and fashioned into a sack that Michael flung over his shoulder.
    With her eyes wet with unshed tears, Glenda draped a brown wool shawl around Mary’s shoulders as she hugged and kissed her cheek and said, “Godspeed.”
    Mary nodded and placed her hand on her heart and then to Glenda’s heart offering her appreciation for the woman’s generosity. Then, within a blink of an eye, they were gone from the village, slinking away under the cover of darkness.
    Mary feared that the village would suffer for harboring them and attempted to express her concern to Michael. She