The Highwayman's Footsteps by Nicola Morgan

firewood and pushed open the door, calling out as I did so.
    The girl lay where I had left her. There seemed no improvement in her condition, as far as I could say. She was shaking, with cold or ague I did not know. I removed my jacket and laid it on top of her, and spread my cloak upon her too. She stirred slightly but neither opened her eyes nor spoke.
    We needed a fire. There was a risk, I knew, that someone might see the smoke. But the snow was falling outside and the girl needed warmth.
    Collecting tiny dry sticks and pieces of straw from the corners of the room, I began to build the fire. I had seen a flint and steel in her bag and I did not ask her permission but fetched them now. I was not accustomed to making fire like this – fire had always been available at home, and servants to bring it to me. It took me many strikes before the burning sparks lit the straw. When the first small flames begin to crackle and lick and spit, I smiled.
    As the morning passed, the girl mostly slept while I busied myself to make our shelter better protected from the weather. I constructed a means of placing boards across the two small windows, though I left them open now to allow the light in. I filled our water bottles and wrapped our food so that no vermin might reach it. I checked the priming of our pistols and put the powder and shot where I could grasp them easily if I had need of them.
    From amongst the bare trees behind the building, I searched out a fallen branch and used my knife to strip the small twigs from it. With only a small adjustment to its width, it fitted into the slots behind the door, making a sturdy barrier if we should have an unwelcome visitor.
    Once I woke the girl to give her physic but I did not change her dressing, preferring to leave it a while longer.
    In all, I was pleased with my preparations. All that could be done, I had done, and the girl and I would be comfortable here until she was well enough. I had not forgotten about her horse and how I had promised to fetch it. But I did not choose to remind her. Secretly, I did not want to go. It was safer here, and warmer, and I had company. Not, I grant you, that a half-conscious girl was much company, but any company is better than none.
    But nor had she forgotten her horse. She woke with a start at around midday, trying to sit up, but quite unable to do so. “I must go!” she gasped. “My horse! I have to fetch him. He needs me.” I helped her to sit and she passed a hand over her forehead, pressing her temples between finger and thumb, closing her eyes for some few moments.
    â€œI said I would go, and I shall,” I said, with more confidence than I felt inside.
    â€œNo, I must go. Help me up. Hurry!” she snapped.
    Well, we would soon discover how strong she was, I thought to myself. I helped her up, supporting most of her weight, and she swayed against me.
    Her teeth were clenched as she slowly straightened. “There!” she said. I let go and she clutched me tight.
    â€œVery well,” I said. “Are you ready? You will need to carry your bag.”
    Her knees crumpled and she slowly sank to the ground, breathing heavily. “It is better,” she insisted. “I will be as good as new. Soon.”
    â€œTwo or three days. If you do not first worsen,” I added for good measure.
    She did not reply and I took her silence for agreement.
    â€œHelp me outside,” she said. “Please.”
    â€œNo!” I was exasperated by her stubbornness. “You cannot move from here. You draw a map and I will fetch your horse. I ride well. And if you still do not know whether you can trust me, remember – I could have killed you, or left you, at any time since yesterday.”
    â€œNo, you misunderstand,” she said, that slight smile again as she looked directly at my eyes. “I need to go outside.”
    â€œI … oh! Of course!” I realized what she wanted and blushed hotly as I did