beside Quinn and kissed his forehead, then his lips.
His eyes opened again, unfocused and dark with pain. “Lizzie,” he said.
“Yes,” she answered, leaning close to hear his strained voice.
“Find Catie and make it right, aye?” His eyes drifted shut and she turned to Oliver to see if he’d heard.
Her cheeks burned with shame, even though he hadn’t said the words in a judgemental manner, she felt the weight of her guilt, even somehow feeling responsible for his being shot. She should have found a way to stop Wodge. She shoved back up to her feet and took off, determined to end this nightmare. “I’ll be back straight away with help,” she tossed over her shoulder to Oliver.
It was rough going, winding through the trees and jumping over rocks and logs. She got hit in the face with low hanging branches the second she looked down at her feet, and tripped over something if she kept her eyes up. An eternity seemed to pass and she worried she’d veered off track when the trees finally thinned out and she saw the castle in the distance.
At the edge of the forest, she leaned over, gasping for breath. She’d run flat out for at least a half hour and still had to go down one hill and up another to reach the castle’s back courtyard. Even from this distance she could make out people milling around, tiny dots that signified help for Quinn.
Lifting her skirts, she tore forward with renewed energy. After everything, she couldn’t let Quinn die. Of all the self-pitying scenarios she’d played in her head while traveling with Wodge, Quinn getting hurt had never factored into any of them. It was beyond anything she could imagine, losing him so completely.
She slowed down on the way to the courtyard, seeing with dismay that the people were all still wearing eighteenth century clothes. If they’d gone forward at all, it wasn’t far. She shuddered to think they might have gone backwards. She stopped at a low stone wall surrounding a small fruit orchard and tried to decide what to do. Run in yelling for help, or pick out one person and ask discreetly?
“Who are ye, lass?” A sharp sounding female voice asked from behind her and she whirled around to see a petite woman with reddish brown hair holding a baby and staring her down. A young boy ran up and tucked himself under her arm.
“Oh, hello,” Lizzie said. “I— please, can you help me? My companions and I were traveling through the woods, and a - a bandit attacked us.”
She twisted her skirt and slumped, exhausted. It was the worst lie, with an even worse delivery. She expected the woman to start screaming for help, but instead she took a few steps closer, inspecting her with wide eyes.
“Bloody hell, it canna be,” she said. She stared at Lizzie for another long moment. “Ye are not from around here are ye?”
She groaned, remembering the animosity against the English in this time. She should have done an accent, but it was too late now. Before she could think of something without name dropping the Fergusons, the woman spoke again, her voice low.
“Ye’re from another time, aye?”
Lizzie reached out and grabbed the stone wall, sitting down hard on the edge. “What?” she asked, to make sure she wasn’t hearing things. She had to be hearing things.
“Never mind, lass,” she said quickly. “Ye were accosted in the woods ye say?”
“Yes, my companion is badly hurt.” Lizzie held out her hands. “Please, I beg of you.”
The woman gave the baby to the young boy and tilted his chin up to look at him. “Take your sister to Mrs. Maxwell, then tell your da to meet me at the stable. Hurry, lad.” She ruffled his hair and gave him a shove. He went as quickly as he could without dropping the baby and the woman walked toward the stable.
Nearly crying with gratitude, Lizzie followed her, wordlessly accepting a stone jug full of cool water and gulping it down. By the time they made it to the stable, a tall, rangy man with blond hair and
His eyes opened again, unfocused and dark with pain. “Lizzie,” he said.
“Yes,” she answered, leaning close to hear his strained voice.
“Find Catie and make it right, aye?” His eyes drifted shut and she turned to Oliver to see if he’d heard.
Her cheeks burned with shame, even though he hadn’t said the words in a judgemental manner, she felt the weight of her guilt, even somehow feeling responsible for his being shot. She should have found a way to stop Wodge. She shoved back up to her feet and took off, determined to end this nightmare. “I’ll be back straight away with help,” she tossed over her shoulder to Oliver.
It was rough going, winding through the trees and jumping over rocks and logs. She got hit in the face with low hanging branches the second she looked down at her feet, and tripped over something if she kept her eyes up. An eternity seemed to pass and she worried she’d veered off track when the trees finally thinned out and she saw the castle in the distance.
At the edge of the forest, she leaned over, gasping for breath. She’d run flat out for at least a half hour and still had to go down one hill and up another to reach the castle’s back courtyard. Even from this distance she could make out people milling around, tiny dots that signified help for Quinn.
Lifting her skirts, she tore forward with renewed energy. After everything, she couldn’t let Quinn die. Of all the self-pitying scenarios she’d played in her head while traveling with Wodge, Quinn getting hurt had never factored into any of them. It was beyond anything she could imagine, losing him so completely.
She slowed down on the way to the courtyard, seeing with dismay that the people were all still wearing eighteenth century clothes. If they’d gone forward at all, it wasn’t far. She shuddered to think they might have gone backwards. She stopped at a low stone wall surrounding a small fruit orchard and tried to decide what to do. Run in yelling for help, or pick out one person and ask discreetly?
“Who are ye, lass?” A sharp sounding female voice asked from behind her and she whirled around to see a petite woman with reddish brown hair holding a baby and staring her down. A young boy ran up and tucked himself under her arm.
“Oh, hello,” Lizzie said. “I— please, can you help me? My companions and I were traveling through the woods, and a - a bandit attacked us.”
She twisted her skirt and slumped, exhausted. It was the worst lie, with an even worse delivery. She expected the woman to start screaming for help, but instead she took a few steps closer, inspecting her with wide eyes.
“Bloody hell, it canna be,” she said. She stared at Lizzie for another long moment. “Ye are not from around here are ye?”
She groaned, remembering the animosity against the English in this time. She should have done an accent, but it was too late now. Before she could think of something without name dropping the Fergusons, the woman spoke again, her voice low.
“Ye’re from another time, aye?”
Lizzie reached out and grabbed the stone wall, sitting down hard on the edge. “What?” she asked, to make sure she wasn’t hearing things. She had to be hearing things.
“Never mind, lass,” she said quickly. “Ye were accosted in the woods ye say?”
“Yes, my companion is badly hurt.” Lizzie held out her hands. “Please, I beg of you.”
The woman gave the baby to the young boy and tilted his chin up to look at him. “Take your sister to Mrs. Maxwell, then tell your da to meet me at the stable. Hurry, lad.” She ruffled his hair and gave him a shove. He went as quickly as he could without dropping the baby and the woman walked toward the stable.
Nearly crying with gratitude, Lizzie followed her, wordlessly accepting a stone jug full of cool water and gulping it down. By the time they made it to the stable, a tall, rangy man with blond hair and
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