“Me.”
Dougal chuckled.
“I be serious. If we lose the wager with a disgusting human male named Toal MacMorgan, I will be put to death, and Vika and her brother will go hungry.”
“Bloody Hell! Dougal and I shall stay close, and aid you when needed. Remember, Evan. You be more susceptible to injuries and cannot heal in any form other than dragon,” Wynn said.
“I remember. Me thanks, brother,” he said. They both knew from personal experience that dragons could be killed. He clenched his fists, threw his head back, and waited for the euphoria that accompanied the shift. A burst of light forced his eyelids shut, and a hot breeze tangled around his naked flesh. Bone, fur, and hooves appeared, replacing flesh and toes.
Wading across the stream, he began nibbling the grass along the edge of the water. What would he eat once the Scottish winter arrived? Grass would die, and nothing more than the dried tips of heather would survive the wind, sleet, and snow.
Will I still be a horse come winter?
He hoped not, and would wait until he had spent more time with the humans. As he waited for Vika to find him, male voices made him lift his head and listen. He recognized one of the voices as the man who had accosted Vika.
Stepping quietly into the trees, he spied Toal speaking with a large, dirty man. What were they doing here? He had overheard Orin and Vika talking about how they assumed he would hunt near his manor, wherever that was.
The strange man’s stench irritated his horse’s nose, and was worse than Toal’s. His wool covering was dark, and streaked with blood. He wore a long dirk at his side, and a bow over his shoulder.
Toal pointed in the direction of Vika and Orin’s camp. “The bitch and her sibling be sleeping over there, and their pile of meat and skins be vastly larger than mine. I will continue the hunt, but I want you to follow them. Scare away any game. If need be, we shall have to steal their catch.”
Rage built inside Evan at the bastard’s words, and he wanted nothing more than to stomp Toal the toad until he lay dead in the mud.
CHAPTER 8
Vika found Spark happily grazing by the stream. She was glad he hadn’t run off. When the horse raised his head and whinnied, his eyes glowed with happiness. Was she crazy to think his amber eyes were the exact color of Evan Brown’s? There was something so familiar about the man she had just met.
“Aye, I have lost me mind. I have grown attached to you, Spark, but I have needs you cannot satisfy. I have met a man. I don’t trust him, not yet, but he saved me life from a huge ugly dragon.”
Spark snorted and shook his head.
“There be nothing funny about that. The man be more handsome than any man I have ever met, yet he be hiding something.” She sighed, and scratched Spark behind his ear.
The horse lifted his back leg, and he held it casually on the tip of his hoof. His big heavily lashed eyelids drooped, and he hung his head.
“Feels good, aye? I wish I had someone who could pleasure me with a simple touch.” She led him toward the cave. A twig snapped, and the horse raised his head, and stared into the trees to their left. Had something spooked him? Recalling the wolf that Orin claimed he had stomped to death, she hurried their pace.
At the camp, inside their makeshift defenses, Orin had built up the fire, and was roasting a rabbit on a spit. The aroma made her stomach rumble, and her mouth water. She tied Spark beside Old Gray, and joined her brother next to the fire. Leaning closer, she untied her hair, and combed it with her fingers to help it dry.
“You look cleaner.” Orin turned the roasting meat on the spit, to char the other side. “Did you enjoy your swim?”
“Please tell me you didn’t spy on me?” Having one voyeur was her limit. Should she tell her brother about Evan Brown? What about the dragon? Would he believe her?
Digging through a sack, she pulled out a large chunk of crusty bannock, and grabbed two bowls. Orin pulled out a sgian dubh from his boot, wiped it on his breeches, and sliced off a small piece of rabbit.
“Nearly ready.” He snagged a wine skin, and took a long swallow.
“Don’t drink all our water, unless you plan to hike to the stream to fill those skins.”
“This? Not water.”
“Don’t tell me you got into the fermented cider! I planned to add that to our next stew.”
Orin’s grin told the tale. The lad was already dipping into the spirits, at only sixteen years. How long until he ventured out into the world, and left her alone in her tiny cottage? Had he bedded young lasses already?
The subject was not something of which she could speak easily, so she sat on the log and waited to see what other new habits he had formed.
When he deemed the meat cooked, he cut several chunks from the carcass, and filled their two bowls. Spark snorted and she turned to see him glaring at her, as if he was upset that they weren’t sharing their repast with him.
“Have you fed the beasts, yet?”
Orin swallowed a piece of rabbit. “Nay. I was a bit busy catching, butchering, and cooking while you be off bathing. You smell a sight better.”
“You could use a dunking, yourself. You be a tad ripe.”
Orin sniffed his underarms, then grinned. “Fine. I shall bathe before nightfall. We need to pack in the morning, and we should take the pony cart with us. I have a bad feeling.”
He was a smart lad, and had what she could only call visions. He had a similar ability to what Mistress MacFingan shared. When a villager entered her tavern, she might tell them they should be elsewhere, or to watch out for something bad to happen. The villagers accepted her witchery, as they called it, because everyone loved her husband, Black MacFingan.
Orin called his visions hunches. These feelings, which nearly always came true, were worth heeding.
“Fine with me. We can hunt and gather the kills as we go, but we will have to drive the cart closer to the rocky base of the Cuillin Hills, where the forest be thinner, and take care not to fall into the bog.
***
Splashing water caught Evan’s attention, and he crept closer to the stream to see if the female had returned to bathe. He had snuck away from where Vika had tethered him. The old Highland pony was a loud snorer, and he wanted to see if he could meet up with one of his brothers. Tomorrow was the last day of the hunt, and he feared Toal and his henchman might harm Orin or Vika, or try to steal their kills.
He had changed back into human form, which he felt was easier to hide. As he reached the thinner trees along the stream, he spied Orin’s bright red hair, before he submerged beneath the falls. The cascading water kept him from hearing anything but its thunderous roar.
Crack!
Slammed from behind, Evan fell face-first into the stream, and he landed on the rock-strewn bottom. Pain seared through his brain, and he swallowed water. Pushing up, his head broke the surface, and he twisted to see his attacker. The large, smelly stranger, who worked for Toal, had hit him with the hilt-end of his sword.
As the man started toward the falls, possibly to harm Orin, a large white wolf attacked. The man screamed the same moment Orin resurfaced, a few feet from shore. Orin sputtered, then grabbed a rock, and threw it at the struggling pair. The rock glanced off the wolf’s shoulder, and it yelped. It glared at Orin, then looked straight at Evan.
“Wynn!” Evan coughed and sputtered. When he pushed to his feet, pain racked his head, and the current nearly knocked him to his knees. The wolf bounded away through the woods, while the strange man lay on his back on the ground a dozen feet from his dropped sword, moaning.
Orin jumped out of the water, wrapped a wool blanket around his lower torso, and raced over to the injured man.
“Orin! Keep your distance! He works for Toal.”
Orin spun around, only then noticing Evan. “Who be you. And what makes you think--”
“Watch out!” Evan looked on in horror as the stranger rolled up onto his knees, and pulled a long dirk from his belt. When Orin glimpsed the lethal weapon in the man
’s hand, he backed away.
The stranger stumbled to his feet, and waved the dirk in their direction. Evan got unsteadily to his feet, and the man must have assumed he was now outnumbered, because he ran off. Orin looked stunned, but was wise enough not to follow.
“Me sister! I must return, or he might hurt her.”
“Good lad.” Evan’s head throbbed, and his vision wavered. Climbing from the cold water with shaky steps, he prayed that the rock hadn’t injured the wolf. He recognized it as his brother, Wynn, in his shifter form. He was glad his brother saved him and Orin from the stranger’s wrath.
“I feel I should make your acquaintance first. That man injured you?”
“Aye. He hit me from behind, as I planned to bathe. I did not see you in the water.”
“I was under the falls.”
Evan rubbed the back of his head with one hand, as he checked for broken ribs from landing on the rocks. “I met your sister, earlier. Again, by accident. I be Evan Brown. She mentioned her brother, Orin.”
The boy nodded. “That be me. I must run. She’s alone, you see.” He turned, finished dressing, and disappeared in the direction of their cave.
“I wish I knew why he hit me.” Evan was no threat. He was naked, and weaponless, but if he assumed Evan was working for Vika and Orin, it made sense. Toal would do anything to win the wager.
As he stepped onto the bank, the white wolf reappeared.
“Be you injured, Wynn?”
The wolf shook its head, then cocked it to the side, as if asking Evan the same question.
“He hit me, but I be fine, though I see two of you. I fear me human skull isn’t as hard as me dragon scales. I must follow the lad, to make sure no one attacks him and the female. Can you keep watch on us through the night? From a distance, of course.”
Wynn nodded, then leapt into the darkness of the thick forest. Forcing another shift, Evan returned to the camp as Spark, and took up his sleeping spot standing beside the pony. He assumed Dougal was nearby, as well. Together, the three brothers would make sure Vika and Orin finished the quest, and returned safely to their village.
CHAPTER 9
One day until the wager ends
Vika woke before the sun rose, and quietly bundled her bedding and extra clothes. Her stomach was queasy, and she blamed it on the unknown outcome of her wager with Toal, which would conclude at midnight. Spark’s life was on the line, as well as her freedom. If Toal won the wager, she would not put it past him to claim all the meat. If he did, they might starve.
“Nay, the villagers would come to our aid.” When their father had died in battle, many villagers shared food and other supplies. Half their flock of sheep were gifts. Mistress MacFingan had shared her medicinal herbs, and her healing knowledge, which helped every time Orin came back from hunting with an injury.
“I must remain positive.” They had one entire day to fill their cart. She had agreed to meet Toal in front of Black MacFingan’s Tavern to display their kills, and hear the verdict of the elders.
Orin awoke, and silently gathered his belongings. He fed the animals and hitched the pony to the cart, while she finished gathering supplies. Together, they untied the hanging carcasses and loaded the cart. They covered the deer meat with the small creatures they had caught and the skins from the rabbits they’d eaten. As they discussed the day’s strategies, and tied the canvas over their kills, Orin told her of the two men he had seen at the stream, and the white wolf.
“A white wolf? ‘Tis nothing like the one who had attacked you yesterday? Why did you not tell me this last eve?”
“I did not want you to lose sleep. We need to be on our toes, this day. The stranger attacked your friend, Evan Brown. The wolf jumped the stranger, and I hit the wolf with a rock.”
“Evan? You met Evan Brown?” Shock stilled her hand. She shook her head to hide the surprise she feared crossed her face. She had not mentioned her meeting with the man, and wasn’t sure why she hid such a thing from her brother. Recalling the warmth of his body, and the danger they had faced together, she forced her feet to move. She gathered her weapons. “What did you think of him?”
“He seems like a nice fellow, though he was naked, and had a nasty bump on the head, courtesy of that stranger. Did I tell you he pulled a knife on me?”
“Evan threatened you?”
“Nay, silly goose. The stranger did, and after I had saved his smelly hide from a wolf! He jumped up and ran off. Besides, when I came to warn you, you were dead to the world.”
She wasn’t dead, merely trying her best to sleep. A dream about a naked man kept her heart racing. When she smelled blood in her dream, a dragon swooped down to carry her off. She awoke with a start sometime in the middle of the night. Her palms had grown clammy, and her heart had raced, and she knew she would never get back to sleep.
With the cart loaded with their kills and belongings, she and Orin chewed on dry oatcakes. They set off toward the area they had agreed would accommodate the pony and cart. She rode Spark, and Orin and the pony followed close behind.
They passed the large boggy moor, then arrived farther north, still near the base of the rocky slopes of the Cuillin Hills. A cold breeze whistled through the gnarled, stunted trees near the base, reminding her of winter’s approach. She pulled Spark to a stop, dismounted, slipped on her hooded sealskin cloak, and remounted Spark.
“Let us split up here. Keep an eye out for wolves and that stranger.”
“I don’t think I should allow you out of me sight, lass. I’ve a feeling that strange man was one of Toal’s men.”
“Evan?”
“Nay, the one with the weapon.”
She smiled at him, knowing his concern for her was out of love. “I shall be fine. I have a wolf-pummeling horse beneath me, and me bow. I want to kill a boar. Do your best to fill that cart with whatever crosses your path. Shall we meet back here about midday to check on our progress?”
“Aye, ‘tis a good plan. Take care.”
She nodded, ordered Spark into a trot, and headed him farther north. Intent on finding boar tracks, she nearly missed the huge doe that sprang across their path. Before the animal could disappear into the thin trees, she set an arrow in her bow, and let it fly. Spark galloped to the last place they spied the beast. When the felled deer came into view, she yelped with glee. The horse shied sideways, and she nearly toppled to the ground.
“Look, Spark! ‘Tis a well-fed doe. She will help fill our cart.” Vika slid off, and patted his neck. When he appeared calm, and started chewing on tufts of grass, she gutted the kill, and strung it from a nearby tree. “I must remember this spot.”
She jumped up into the saddle, and gathered her cloak tightly around her. The wind’s icy chill had intensified. They continued following the boar’s tracks, which turned west, and then south. She tied another deer, smaller but still a good kill, to Spark’s rump. After returning to the large deer, she let it down behind the saddle, tied it tight, and headed back. When they reached the meeting spot, Orin was waiting for her by the cart.
“You have returned, and had success!” Orin called to her. He was adding several rabbits and another deer carcass to the cart. When she dismounted, he helped her load the cart with her catch.
“I saw boar tracks, but I think it too wary of the horse. I will return on foot.”
“I shall accompany you, and we can trap it between us.”
“Be this a good idea?” She glanced at their cart, the old pony, and Spark. Spark seemed to be listening intently to their conversation. His ears swiveled back and forth, and he clawed at the ground with his front left hoof.
“I scouted the area and have seen no sign of wolves. I will secure Old Gray to a shady tree, but will tie Spark to the cart with a long piece of rope, so he has the room to fight, should he have to attack a wild beast.”
“Well, make sure the canvas be tied tight, and let us cover the cart with branches. If we can disguise the scent of blood for a couple of hours, we have
a better chance of not attracting vermin, or wolves.”
“Gutting the kills, and hanging some, has cut down on the smell, but these three deer be still too fresh. I wish it was colder.”
Vika shivered, but understood why Orin wished the weather to worsen. Intense cold would help preserve the meat.
After covering the cart, they headed back to the area where she had found the boar’s tracks, and split up. As she walked, steel-gray clouds gathered in the west, and the temperature lowered enough to make her fingers ache. She loosened her grip around her bow, but kept an arrow notched, and ready. The breeze turned into a stiff wind, and she was glad she was wearing her hooded cloak.
A snuffling made her stop in her tracks. Her heart raced, and a boar’s stench upon the wind intensified. Her instinct was to turn and run away, but she wanted this kill. Spark’s life depended on catching this huge animal, thus winning the wager with Toal MacMorgan.
As she crept closer to the sounds of a foraging beast, she prayed that she could kill it quickly. Capturing the beast without allowing it to injure her, or Orin, was imperative. Many wild boar grew to over 200 pounds, and the males sported sharp, flesh-tearing tusks. They were fearless, and cunning. She was just as fearless, and hoped that its death proved to be the winning piece to their three-day competition.
CHAPTER 10
Alone again, Evan thought, although that wasn’t quite true. The old pony was sleeping standing up, beneath a nearby tree. Old Gray obviously did not care for what little sun shone down through the branches. As soon as the thought was in Evan’s head, the clouds converged, and a sharp wind pummeled his thin fur. He missed his tough scales. He also longed to take flight, glide through the sky, and let the strong currents keep him aloft.
His next thought was for Vika’s safety. She wanted that elusive boar in order to save his life, yet she and Orin left him tied to the cart. Should he untie the rope, shift into human form, and follow their tracks? Or, should he return to his dragon body, and spy on them from high above? Would she appreciate the help?
Spark (Clan of Dragons Book 1) Page 7
