by Amy Faye
Gunnar gritted his teeth and kept moving. The sun was going down, and it had been a long time since he had been through, in the other direction. He hadn't taken this route. None of the towns looked familiar, and he hadn't been able to find any burned-out shells that would have clearly signaled that he and his men had been through.
He wouldn't be able to sleep until he found her. He'd learned that after he laid his head down the first night, and spent the night staring at the stars until he pulled himself back up and forced himself to move.
How far ahead could she have gotten? It didn't much matter. Not much did, until he was able to find her.
His feet were heavy. Too heavy to move. But he forced himself to take another step. Just one more. Then just one more, once again. As long as he could keep himself moving, he would be alright. Everything was getting dark, but he had to keep moving.
He didn't feel it when he hit the ground.
When he opened his eyes again, a face was looking at him. A woman's face. She looked worried. He didn't recognize her, but he could feel something. The same feeling he got from Deirdre. Her hair was yellow like wheat, her eyes a steely gray.
As soon as he stirred she stood up, dusting off her hands. As if her work were done. But what had she done? She reached into a satchel and pulled something out, holding it out to him. He sat up and took it from her. A bread roll. He had never preferred to accept charity, but the emptiness in his stomach felt as if it were going to swallow him whole.
"You can come out now," she called back to an empty road. Then she turned to Gunnar. "Someone came looking for you."
She didn't seem to be talking to him, even as she lowered herself to the ground in front of him, smoothing her skirts over as she sat down on the side of the road.
Something moved behind a tree, and Deirdre stepped into view.
"I'm sorry," she said before he could say anything for himself. She was sorry. She still had a lot to learn. Brigid reminded her of that, after all that time away.
Gunnar looked up at her, clearly unsure who the woman beside him was, or why she was there. If he had something to say, he wasn't going to do it in front of her. But without her, Deirdre wouldn't have found him. Might not have gone looking.
Brigid's voice cut through. "Are you going to introduce us, Deirdre?"
"This is… my teacher," she said. She felt wrong doing this. As if she were introducing him to her parents. In a certain sense, she supposed she was. "She raised me since I was little. She taught me everything I know, and she's the one who found you."
Gunnar still looked out of it. Was he going to be alright? She shook her head. Food and rest, and he'd be fine. He had all the signs.
"Ma'am, this is Gunnar. He's…"
She realized she couldn't begin to explain what their relationship was. She couldn't explain how they'd met, or how he fit into the world. Never mind how he would fit into her life.
She was trying to figure out how to respond when she saw the impish smile on Brigid's face. She waited. Clearly the woman had something to say, but she wasn't going to say it until it was on her terms.
She was smart, and she knew quite a bit, Deirdre thought. But damned if she wasn't stubborn.
"So you want to bring this brute into my house?" Gunnar's face twisted for an instant into a frown before he managed to force himself back into impassivity. "Oh, don't be so sour. It's high time the girl found her own place in the world. I've been putting my ear to the ground for a nice rate on land out somewhere."
Brigid reached into the little bag that she carried everywhere. No matter what she'd needed, Deirdre had never seen her teacher without it, and anything important would go into it. She tossed something small; Deirdre could see it turning and flipping in the light. Small and metal.
She caught it more by luck than by skill. A key.
"The good news is, your lover seemed determined to head straight there." The look on Brigid's face seemed to suggest that there was more to it. But then, Deirdre had learned a long time ago not to question. She took a deep breath. "You'll need to get back soon. You'll want to get settled in, and I think—Gunnar, was it?—will need some bed rest before you get ready for the spring planting."
Then she was off. As mysterious as ever. Deirdre tried to decide if she was ever going to understand. No, she decided. That was damned unlikely. She gripped the key tightly, then reached down to help Gunnar up. He took her hand.
"I couldn't find you," he said softly. "So I went looking."
She pressed herself into him, enjoyed the feeling of his arms around her body. The warm and safe feeling she got from it.
"I'm here now." She pulled back just far enough to look him in the eyes. "Let's go find this mystery house of hers. I don't know what, but she's got some kind of plan for it, I'm sure."
She put her hand on her belly. She could still feel where Brigid had touched it. Her teacher had always been accepted in town, Deirdre thought. She had always made the best midwife.
She knew almost the minute it took, after all.
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