Donna Fletcher Short Story Collection by Donna Fletcher

followed their
chieftain.
    Cavan burst passed the trees and the scene he
came upon fired his anger beyond control.
    A large Norseman was exiting a poorly
constructed shelter, a dagger in his hands—and it dripped
blood.
    Cavan let out a fierce roar and lunged at the
Norseman.
    ~~~
    “Cavan! Cavan, stop it!” Honora screamed.
    Her husband paid her no mind. He and Tyr
continued rolling around on the ground, fists swinging.
    “Stop him, Ronan,” Honora pleaded when
Cavan’s brother came upon the scene.
    Ronan walked around the battling men and
arched a brow when he caught a look at the dark bruise and swelling
on Honora’s jaw. “Looks to me like he deserves what he’s
getting.”
    Honora grabbed for a heavy stick from the
nearby batch of firewood, ready to thrash the two men when another
bloodcurdling scream pierced the air.
    The horrific sound froze everyone but Honora.
She ran into the shelter.
    Tyr got to his feet and rushed after Honora.
Cavan followed along with Ronan, after he directed the warriors to
circle the area.
    “It’s all right, Thora” Honora said to the
woman writhing in pain on the bed of pine. “Help has arrived. We’ll
be getting you to the healer soon.” She wiped the woman’s sweating
brow with a wet cloth. “I know it’s hard but try to rest between
the pains. I need to step outside for a few—”
    The woman grabbed Honora’s arm. “Do not leave
me, please. Please I beg you.”
    Honora looked to Cavan who had walked over to
stand beside her. “Let Tyr explain this to you while I tend to
Thora.”
    Cavan reached out and gently touched the
bruise on her jaw. His eyes flared with anger and he said much more
calmly than he felt, “First, he’ll explain this.”
    Honora sighed. “Not his fault. Mine.”
    “There is not an acceptable reason for him to
have hit you,” Cavan said directing his attention to Tyr.
    “He didn’t,” Honora explained. “I suffered
the blow on myself.”
    “What?” Cavan asked incredulously.
    Thora moaned and Honora rested her cheek on
her husband’s. “Please, trust me. It’s not what you think. Speak to
Tyr and prepare to leave. We must get Thora to Zia as soon as
possible.” She pressed her lips to his cheek and then whispered, “I
knew you’d come for me. I love you so much and please, please trust
me on this.”
    She need say no more to him. He turned to
Ronan. “Tell the men we return home. And see that they follow any
instructions Honora has for them.”
    Ronan nodded and left.
    Cavan then turned to Tyr. “Time to talk.”
    Tyr agreed with a nod and walked over to
Thora. “I will get you safely to the healer. I promise.” He kissed
her cheek and wiped at her tears. “It will be all right. I will
make it so.”
    As Tyr walked out, Cavan wrapped his arm
around his wife’s waist and pulled her close. “Never again will you
go off without telling me where you go.” Every muscle in his body
grew taut as he waited for her to argue.
    “As you say, husband.”
    She shocked him silent.
    A tear fell from her eye. “I feared I would
never see you again.”
    He kissed the tear away. “I would go to hell
and back to bring you home to me.”
    They held each other tight until finally
Honora whispered, “Go, we must hurry and get Thora to Zia or mother
and child will not survive.”
    Cavan left Honora’s side reluctantly. He
feared leaving her, feared that she would disappear once again. An
irrational thought as his brother Artair would advise, but one that
haunted him nonetheless.
    He positioned himself so that he could keep
an eye on the shelter and with a nod to Ronan, his brother took up
guard in front of it.
    “Tell me what this is about,” Cavan ordered
as he stepped in front of Tyr, not at all intimidated by the size
of the man.
    Tyr didn’t hesitate to answer, nor did he
show fear. He stood tall and proud and Cavan respected him for
it.
    “I came in search of your healer,” Tyr said.
“She is said to work magic and Thora needs