Highland Moon Sifter (a Highland Sorcery novel) by Clover Autrey Page A

to get her home. Several times he heard quiet rustles in the forest, but he plowed steadily on.  
    The blacksmith’s forge came into view first. Donagh was a flickering silhouette behind the flames as he worked late at his forge in the cool of the evening.
    When Shaw approached, the smith came out from behind the anvil to face him, large flat-head hammer in hand. His features hardened like cooling metal in water upon seeing the limp woman. “What have you done, witch’s striapach.”
    Shaw’s lips tightened at the insult. ‘Twas no more than he deserved. “She needs aid.”
    Donagh‘s meaty hand creaked around the handle of his hammer, unwilling to cast it aside in favor of taking the woman, though they both knew Shaw’s magic could hurl the large smith aside if he so wanted.
    At least on a better day than this.
    Right now, Shaw doubted he had the strength to swat a rodent. “Where is her family and I’ll take her home.”
    “Her husband and father are in the forest searching for the lass. They feared when she didna return home. Especially after two of our men went missing. There are strange tracks in the forest.”
    Shaw nodded. “Tell yer people to stay within the village. Do not let yer women come to the castle for a sennight.”
    “But the witch…”
    “Is distracted with other matters.”
    Donagh glared, though he did not dare ask what other matters could distract the witch.”
    Several more villagers came out of their cottages, shying back when they saw who had come into their midst. Donagh reluctantly lowered his smith’s tool to the ground and lifted his arms to take the woman. “What have ye done to her?”
    Shaw carefully transferred her into the smith’s care. “She lost her child.”
    Eydis hobbled forward. At ninety, the wise woman was one of the few who didn’t fear him. “Bring her to my cottage.” She glared up at Shaw. “The witch did this?”
    Shaw simply lifted his chin. The blame fell upon his shoulders like a weighted cloak. He should have found a way to stop it.
    “Leave this village. Yer kind is no welcome here.”
    His kind. Which did she refer to? Betrayer, Moon Sifter, or monster? It mattered naught. In their eyes he was all three.

    Chapter Nine
     

    Bekah followed the Highlander from the castle to the village, keeping to the shadows and far back. He’d proven before that his senses were good enough to detect her. She wouldn’t make that mistake again.
    She’d lost the Sifts when she jumped into the river and let it carry her downstream. It’d taken all this time to find her way back, while using every bit of foliage and tree line for cover. She’d nearly run into the Sifts again, though they also seemed to be doubling-back, picking up Shaw’s scent again. They obviously weren’t going to kill him. Perhaps they decided to act as his bodyguards to keep her from killing him since they hadn’t been able to stop her yet. It’d be what she’d do. Great. Now she was thinking like a Sift. She felt so proud.
    The monsters were out there in the dark somewhere. They’d been following Shaw even as she followed them until they slipped up into the trees out of her sight.
    She’d been trying to figure out how to warn Shaw without alerting the beasts to her presence when he walked into the village.
    What on earth was he doing, carrying an unconscious woman this late in the evening? Had there been some kind of accident at the castle involving the servants? He was not receiving a warm welcome by the stony expressions of the villagers who ventured out.
    How she’d love to hear what was being said, nothing pleasant if the rage in the old woman’s bent posture relayed the tale correctly.
    After passing the unconscious woman to the tree-stumps-for-arms dude, Shaw straightened under the old lady’s tirade until he finally turned on his heel and walked rigidly from them. Blood trailed one side of his dark kilt. His or the woman’s he’d carried? As soon as his back was turned upon