Time of the Draig by Lisa Dawn Wadler

and exhausted was an understatement. It had been more than two months since her last visit above ground, and sleep was something that happened in three- to four-hour chunks every thirty hours or so. She had arrived in the location with the compliments of a toss from Boomer and then yelled at him to get off her, not exactly making her look like the commanding officer she had become. None of it made her appear to be a person with choice.
    The way Faolan had looked at her made her think he was lying on some level. It hadn’t been mere curiosity in his gaze; he had “checked her out,” as Boomer would say. She doubted a man from medieval Scotland would have much interest in a woman beyond what he could take physically. But his eyes had been soft and gentle while he explained his motivation. So why do I want to believe him?
    Her silent musing ended when she reached her men. She walked over to Miller who was setting a broken finger on a soldier whose name badge said Iduna. “How’s the hand, Sergeant?”
    He answered quickly, “Just a broken finger, no big deal, Major.”
    She crouched before him. “Good to hear. As soon as we make camp tonight, I’d like to actually meet you.”
    His broad smile answered, “I’d like that too.”
    “Private Miller, how injured are my men?”
    The private finished wrapping the finger. “Mostly minor cuts and some bruising.” He glanced across the field at Faolan and his men. “They have a man down. With your permission, I’d like to see if I could help.”
    “Why would you even ask? They fought beside us, and that makes them friendlies. See it done.”
    Miller grabbed the med kit from the ground. “I wasn’t sure if you would mind. After all, I was sentenced to die for aiding men who didn’t wear the uniform.”
    Samantha’s eyes widened at the statement. She knew it was bad out there, but not that bad. “Who did you help?”
    “I was putting our men back together after a skirmish in Mexico when I went to patch up some locals that got caught in the crossfire.” He sighed as he finished. “I will admit I had been ordered not to aid the villagers.”
    Samantha rose to her feet. “You did the right thing then and now. I’m doubly glad to have you along.” She saw the man beam as he trotted across the open field to where the wounded man lay. A small curse left her lips as Miller was pushed away from the injured warrior.
    Harrison said from behind her, “Looks like they don’t quite get the concept. Should we intervene?”
    “We may have to. Are you injured, Captain?” she asked as she faced the man.
    “Just a few light scratches that have already been disinfected. Your arm needs the same,” he said as they began the walk back across the field.
    “After everyone else is seen, Captain.”
    “Again you sound like your father. The men always came first for him too,” he added as they sidestepped a body on the ground. “You can call me Jeff when we are at ease, Samantha.”
    Her smile answered but then faded as they reached the wounded man. Kagen stated to Miller, “Leave him alone.”
    “This man is a healer and may be able to help,” Samantha said, though she doubted a class four med kit could do anything. There was a large slash across the man’s belly that went far too deep for simple stitches. The medic still examined the wound, and she could see the frustration in his face.
    Miller said, “He’s already gone.”
    “Which is why I told you to stay away from Robert’s body,” Kagen said.
    She felt his approach before Faolan uttered a sound. The hair on the back of her neck prickled in awareness, though not in an unpleasant way. There was no hint of a threat at his silent approach, only a certainty he was there. He offered a polite nod to her before he knelt beside the body and used his hand to close the staring eyes. He took the dead man’s dagger and tucked it within his belt.
    Faolan stood. “I would see him buried before we leave.” Kagen nodded at the