The day dawned bright and clear, with a blue sky which foretold of the autumn ahead. After taking care of nature’s needs, Brice went about the business of watering the horses. On the branch of one of the trees was a caterpillar. He watched as it slowly crept along and noted its thick hair. Perhaps the thickest he’d ever seen.

One of the signs of a difficult winter to come.

All the more reason for them to be well on their way, so they might be back before the first frost. Anything they did between now and winter would likely require less travel. And they might settle in after that, enjoying the spoils of their hard work—new clothing, new shoes, not to mention the satisfaction of a little rest after spending the year and so many years before that, with nowhere to rest their heads for more than a few days at a stretch.

The rest were preparing for the day, ensuring the fire was truly out by covering it with dirt and wet leaves.

Alana, meanwhile, stood at a distance. Her back was to a tree, arms crossed over her stomach.

She would not meet his gaze when he looked at her. Even when he stared at her.

There was so much anger there. Resentment. A lifetime’s worth.

It wasn’t his concern.

What was his concern was whether or not she would stay with them, rather than attempting to run away again. One look at her, and he was certain she hadn’t learned her lesson. So insolent, so angry.

In her mind, they were the enemy.

He went to her while the others saddled the horses, pulling her aside and out of earshot. She wrenched her arm from his grasp but did not look at him.

They were back where they’d started, apparently. With her refusing to acknowledge his presence. It was enough to make him regret what he was about to say, as she did not deserve his kindness.

“I haven’t told the others about what ye did last night,” he murmured, one eye on his friends. They didn’t seem to notice that he and their charge were having a private conversation, too busy laughing over one of Fergus’s stories. He had untold numbers—and while many of them involved members of their group, those involved still laughed as though they were hearing something fresh and new. His brother was a natural storyteller.

She glanced up at him, then away again. “You haven’t?”

“Nay. I felt it best we keep it between ourselves.” If there was ever a chance to earn her gratitude, it was now. Surely, she was not so daft as to spit in his face after he was kind to her.

Her eyes narrowed, her mouth pursing as it had while she sized the four of them up the day before. She was thinking. Weighing his words. Deciding what they meant.

He wished she weren’t half as smart as she thought she was. It would make his task so much simpler.

“Thank you,” she finally muttered, resentment still clear in her voice.

“You might try to sound as though you mean it.”

“What do you want me to do?” she asked, still watching Rodric and the rest. “Fall at your feet? Weep until I faint from the strain?”

“All right,” he grumbled.

“No, truly. What is it ye wish for me to do or say? After all, you’ve been so kind to me, I want only to return your kindness.” Her eyes were cold when they fixed on his.

He had half a mind to tell her to look away again. He did not wish to bear the weight of her cold glare.

“You do not need to behave as though we’re the enemy. Let us begin there.”

“But ye are.”

“And it’s sorry I am that ye feel that way. But we’re not. We’re merely doing as we’re paid to do.”

“It might as well be blood money,” she hissed.

“Are you prepared to leave?” Quinn called out, taking the reins of Alana’s mare before swinging up onto the back of his black gelding.

The two of them glared at each other, with Brice struggling to keep control of his rage.

“So. That’s what ye think, is it? It’s finally coming to this. You believe the money we’re collecting for your delivery is blood money.”

“Or as good as,” she hissed, baring her teeth and all.

He leaned down until their faces were mere inches apart. “I’m likely the first one to tell ye of this, then, but it’s best ye know now: there is nothing special about ye. Nothing different. This is how marriage has been arranged for years, for our parents and their parents before them. And fifty years from now, lass, no one will care about one spoiled Highland lass who kicked and fought but still had to marry the man she didna wish to marry because that was simply how it was done.”

He hated himself the moment the words were out of his mouth, hanging between them before a breeze swept through and carried them away.

Leaving the two of them staring at each other.

“Are ye coming or aren’t ye?” Fergus called out, sounding perturbed.

Alana’s throat worked as she swallowed.

Brice cleared his throat.

Neither of them said a word to each other. When she took a step back, breaking the tension of the moment, Brice blinked hard as though coming out of a deep sleep.

She went to her mare, taking the reins from Quinn before favoring him with a bright smile. “Many thanks,” she murmured, taking her time about mounting the horse.

Much to Quinn’s delight.

What was she on about this time?

* * *

He was brooding.

He’d always hated people who brooded, men in particular, but there he was. Unable to get the image of her stricken face out of his mind as they made their way down what he supposed was meant to be a decent road.

It was not.

Rodric dismounted, hands on his hips as he surveyed the situation before them. The tree which had fallen and blocked the road was one of many they’d come across since leaving their camp that morning—up until that point, they’d been able to guide their horses around that which stood in their way.

“Clearly a rarely-traveled road,” Quinn had observed more than once, which Brice supposed was for the lass’s benefit. As though she needed to be told. As though it even needed to be spoken aloud.

And yet she had favored him with another smile each time he spoke. She was up to something. Brice wished he knew what it was.

The sun was directly overhead when they came to the largest tree yet. It looked to be hundreds of years old, easily spanning the width of the road with its trunk alone. The roots were far off to the right, the branches to the left. There was no telling how far off the road they would need to walk the horses in order to get around it.

Quinn held Alana’s mare in place as she dismounted, and she smiled again once her feet were on the ground.

She happened to look in Brice’s direction next, and her smile disappeared. Flushed cheeks replaced that smile just before she turned her face away. She knew he knew there was a plan in place. She couldn’t hide it from him.

He only wished it had nothing to do with Quinn. The lad did not deserve her trickery. If he attempted to warn Quinn, he knew his warning would only be regarded as the result of the dislike which had tinged their interactions.

He would not be taken seriously and might, in fact, be accused of starting trouble.

“I suppose this way would be best,” he suggested, resolving to ignore her for the time being. “Away from the limbs.”

“Aye,” Rodric agreed, while the others nodded. He and Fergus took the lead, followed by Quinn, then Alana.

Brice was last, guiding the horse carefully as they picked their way through the underbrush.

Under cover of trees, the day’s warmth quickly cooled until it was nearly chilly. A blessed relief—the perspiration at the back of his neck quickly turned comfortable, cooling his body and helping ease the turmoil inside somewhat. He’d always had difficulty using reason when he was uncomfortable and already out-of-sorts.

“How is it back there?” Quinn called out over one shoulder, a roguish smile slashing across the lower half of his face as he looked at Alana.

Brice’s jaw clenched as he fought the mix of emotion that smile stirred.

Alana merely raised her free hand in greeting, assuring him she was well.

She was not. Brice could see it for himself. While a capable rider and blessed with a great deal of stamina—she had yet to complain of fatigue after riding straight through since sunrise—she was somewhat ungraceful.

He’d seen her stumble more than once over half-hidden rocks and tangled weeds, throwing out her free hand to catch herself and more often than not hitting the tree.

He wanted to help her whenever this happened. It was in his nature, nothing more. The wish to be of service to one who needed assistance.

It wasn’t easy, leaving her to her own devices. He reminded himself of how she’d more than likely throw his kindness back in his face every time he felt even an inkling of responsibility for her welfare. If she wanted to be difficult, he’d allow her to be just that.

They were nearing the roots, and even he was taken aback by the sight which loomed over their heads.

She stopped short, her mare whinnying.

“All right, lass?” Brice dared ask.

She nodded without turning. “Aye. It’s… impressive.”

And it was. When the tree had fallen, it had taken its roots and much of the ground around it in all directions. That ground now stood up in the air, still attached to the tree’s trunk, the whole thing stretching upward until he had to crane his neck to take in the full height.

“Use caution here!” Rodric called out. “It’s quite uneven. We’ll have to go around the hole left by the roots.”

With that, Rodric disappeared behind the base of the tree.

Fergus followed him.

“It’ll be easy,” Quinn assured her, smiling again.

Brice had never so wanted to tell him to shut up. He had no idea the fool the lass was playing him for. She had clearly picked him out as the easiest target, always eager to make the acquaintance of a comely lass such as herself, and he was falling for it.

The fool.

“You lead the way, and I’m certain I’ll make it,” she called back.

Brice rolled his eyes, reminding himself to pay attention to his own horse and where he was planting his feet as the terrain grew even more difficult to travel.

Quinn disappeared behind the tree’s base, leaving only the lass and himself. She murmured to her mare in soothing tones, comforting the poor beast as it picked its way through the brush. Brice spoke not a word, watching her whenever he had the chance.

“Be careful,” he muttered before she cleared the base. He thought she might have sniffed derisively, but couldn’t be certain.

It was his turn to clear the base—when he did, an even more impressive sight greeted him. A mass of roots, tangled together, some of them still attached to the ground and forming what reminded him of a tent as they stretched from the base of the tree to the hole left behind.

They seemed to go on forever, and it was then that he marveled to himself over all the things that were hidden to their eyes. The trees themselves were majestic on their own, when what was beneath them was impressive in its own right.

The horse seemed reluctant to continue, pulling on the reins, and Brice was careful to calm him as they made slow progress. There was little light—twice, he slipped and nearly slid into the hole where once there had been roots and a tree trunk.

When it was over, and he rounded the base again—breathing a sigh of relief as he did—he found Rodric, Fergus, and Quinn waiting.

“Where is she?” he asked, looking from one of them to the other, expecting them to explain that she’d gone off behind a tree to relieve herself.

The blank stares he received instead sent a bolt of fear to his heart.

And a sense of understanding.

He should have known better.