statement.
Miller said, “You’re both cut, let me clean those up first.” He glanced at the other two warriors. “Are they hurt?”
Faolan shook his head. “No. Dinna fash yourself. We both will live to see another day. Take care of Major Samantha . . . her arm bleeds.”
She glanced at the rip in her jacket and, for the first time, felt the cut, not deep, but enough for a stitch or two. Her jacket fell to the ground as she lifted the short sleeve of her t-shirt for the medic to view. A sigh of relief escaped when she noticed her Semper Fi tattoo remained unharmed.
Per Miller’s instructions, she sat again on the grass and winced as the disinfected pad swiped her cut. The adhesive flowed over the broken skin, and she knew within thirty seconds her wound would be set and closed. The shadow covered her as Boomer stood over her. “No worries, Boomer.”
“My bad, Sam.” The guilt overflowed in his voice.
“Yeah, too bad you can’t keep up,” Samantha mocked and then asked with concern, “You okay?”
“Five by five as always,” he replied, as he leaned down to whisper, “We have a live one.”
She nodded as she waited for Faolan and Kagen to have their light wounds tended. There was only bewilderment that they didn’t question the treatment or what must be magical material in the med kit. When Miller declared them fit, Samantha said, “We have a live attacker. Care to ask any questions?”
Both men were on their feet before she finished. Samantha reached for her jacket and hesitated as Faolan extended a hand to help her up. She didn’t need it but accepted the offer. His hand was gentle as he gripped hers, with none of his obvious strength used. It was almost as if he were afraid to break her, like she was made of glass. But she felt it, the warmth his skin offered hers when his large hand swallowed hers. As soon as she was up, she dropped his hand, too disturbed by the tingly sensation he had created.
Boomer led them to a dying man on the edge of the field. From the twisted angle, it was clear his leg was broken, and blood flowed freely from a large gash on his side. Faolan knelt by the man and demanded, “Why?”
The man coughed blood and sneered at the question. His voice was but a harsh whisper, “You have been found, Draig. You shall pay . . . for the sins of your ancestor . . . your line dies . . . the gods shall have their revenge.” Then nothing more as a final breath left his body.
Samantha knew Jeff had heard it all, and they both turned to Faolan. “What was that about?”
“I dinna ken. His words were in a language I dinna comprehend.”
The captain replied, “What are you talking about? I followed everything he said.”
Samantha interjected, “I have a lot to explain to you yet, Captain. It’s very probable that was a foreign language.” She turned to Faolan and repeated the dying man’s message verbatim. His face paled, but he still claimed not to understand the threat.
“My clan is respected in the Highlands, and we have no known enemies. Though these men are most likely responsible for the deaths of several of my warriors and my father. Plus, they stole half of my sheep. We were tracking the flock when we met you,” Faolan explained. “My father was a good man.”
She felt his pain at the simple yet eloquent epitaph. Those were words she could have used for her own father.
Captain Harrison said, “It may have just been the mad ramblings of a dying man.”
Faolan quickly agreed. “You saved my life, and there is now a blood debt between our people. It would be pleasing if you would join us as we travel home. Guests have long been honored within my walls, Jeff.”
Samantha didn’t miss Kagen’s surprise at the offer. His shock almost matched her own. “While your offer is kind—”
Captain Jeff Harrison quickly interrupted, “The major and I need to discuss your kind offer. In the meantime, we would assist in burying your dead.” He called out for two of
Miller said, “You’re both cut, let me clean those up first.” He glanced at the other two warriors. “Are they hurt?”
Faolan shook his head. “No. Dinna fash yourself. We both will live to see another day. Take care of Major Samantha . . . her arm bleeds.”
She glanced at the rip in her jacket and, for the first time, felt the cut, not deep, but enough for a stitch or two. Her jacket fell to the ground as she lifted the short sleeve of her t-shirt for the medic to view. A sigh of relief escaped when she noticed her Semper Fi tattoo remained unharmed.
Per Miller’s instructions, she sat again on the grass and winced as the disinfected pad swiped her cut. The adhesive flowed over the broken skin, and she knew within thirty seconds her wound would be set and closed. The shadow covered her as Boomer stood over her. “No worries, Boomer.”
“My bad, Sam.” The guilt overflowed in his voice.
“Yeah, too bad you can’t keep up,” Samantha mocked and then asked with concern, “You okay?”
“Five by five as always,” he replied, as he leaned down to whisper, “We have a live one.”
She nodded as she waited for Faolan and Kagen to have their light wounds tended. There was only bewilderment that they didn’t question the treatment or what must be magical material in the med kit. When Miller declared them fit, Samantha said, “We have a live attacker. Care to ask any questions?”
Both men were on their feet before she finished. Samantha reached for her jacket and hesitated as Faolan extended a hand to help her up. She didn’t need it but accepted the offer. His hand was gentle as he gripped hers, with none of his obvious strength used. It was almost as if he were afraid to break her, like she was made of glass. But she felt it, the warmth his skin offered hers when his large hand swallowed hers. As soon as she was up, she dropped his hand, too disturbed by the tingly sensation he had created.
Boomer led them to a dying man on the edge of the field. From the twisted angle, it was clear his leg was broken, and blood flowed freely from a large gash on his side. Faolan knelt by the man and demanded, “Why?”
The man coughed blood and sneered at the question. His voice was but a harsh whisper, “You have been found, Draig. You shall pay . . . for the sins of your ancestor . . . your line dies . . . the gods shall have their revenge.” Then nothing more as a final breath left his body.
Samantha knew Jeff had heard it all, and they both turned to Faolan. “What was that about?”
“I dinna ken. His words were in a language I dinna comprehend.”
The captain replied, “What are you talking about? I followed everything he said.”
Samantha interjected, “I have a lot to explain to you yet, Captain. It’s very probable that was a foreign language.” She turned to Faolan and repeated the dying man’s message verbatim. His face paled, but he still claimed not to understand the threat.
“My clan is respected in the Highlands, and we have no known enemies. Though these men are most likely responsible for the deaths of several of my warriors and my father. Plus, they stole half of my sheep. We were tracking the flock when we met you,” Faolan explained. “My father was a good man.”
She felt his pain at the simple yet eloquent epitaph. Those were words she could have used for her own father.
Captain Harrison said, “It may have just been the mad ramblings of a dying man.”
Faolan quickly agreed. “You saved my life, and there is now a blood debt between our people. It would be pleasing if you would join us as we travel home. Guests have long been honored within my walls, Jeff.”
Samantha didn’t miss Kagen’s surprise at the offer. His shock almost matched her own. “While your offer is kind—”
Captain Jeff Harrison quickly interrupted, “The major and I need to discuss your kind offer. In the meantime, we would assist in burying your dead.” He called out for two of
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