“She is a beauty, so friendly and obedient,” Zia said.
Artair laughed. “Nessie is far from obedient. She has a mind of her own.”
Zia kissed the mutt on the head. “Smart lass.”
“Is this no name, no direction place close?” Artair asked returning to the matter at hand.
“We will reach it by noon tomorrow.”
She walked ahead leading them, Nessie following her. Artair’s only recourse was to do as Nessie did, follow Zia. His men trailed behind grumbling. While he did not believe in the power of witches he knew some of his men did and at the moment he was sure that they thought following her unwise.
After a few more twists and turns he wondered if he didn’t agree with them, for suddenly he felt in unfamiliar territory and worse, confined and confused, by the dense growth of trees and foliage.
“What is this place?” he demanded.
Zia glanced over her shoulder with a smile. “My home.”
She hurried ahead and when she drifted from sight he grew concerned that perhaps he had been foolish not to have been more cautious with her, but then she popped up in front of him, her smile glowing like a bright full sun.
“This way,” she said pointing. “I am starving. There is a stream, and I”—she tapped her chest proudly—“am very good at catching fish.”
“Did you hear that, James?” Artair called to one of his men. “She is very good at catching fish.”
“Not as good as I,” James shouted back.
“A challenge. I love it,” Zia said with a laugh, and hurried ahead of them, Nessie on her heels.
“No fair,” James yelled and the short, stout man quickly handed his reins to the warrior behind him and took chase.
Not long after, Zia caught the first fish. James frustrated, threw down the pole he had quickly fashioned from a branch. Artair assumed Zia would take delight in her success, but instead she shared with James her secret to catching fish so quickly. With leaves dangling from his hook James caught a fish and before Artair knew it they were all sitting around a fire waiting eagerly for four fish to finish cooking.
The smell was phenomenal, Zia having added to the cleaned fish a mixture of crushed leaves she had gathered from the surrounding woods. His men had eyed her skeptically but when the scent had turned mouth-watering their grumbling halted.
After tasting the fish the men attacked it, licking every morsel off their fingers and grumbling because she insisted that each give a share to the dog.
“A great cook besides a great healer,” Artair said.
The others nodded, grinned, and patted their stomachs.
Zia bowed her head in appreciation. “Food can sometimes be more healing than potions.”
A lively conversation ensued, and Artair was amazed at the way his men so easily befriended her. But then, he was beginning to realize that Zia embraced life with such zest, it was hard not to like her. He could also understand how her passionate nature might intimidate some and possibly cause jealously in others.
Within the last few hours he had gotten a good insight into her and was eager to learn more. She had surprised him from the beginning. He had expected a shivering, frightened woman after being so close to being burnt at the stake, but once free she seemed unbothered by her brush with death.
Courageous or foolhardy?
He still wasn’t certain.
On the road once again, they alternated between walking and riding, the path narrowing, winding, then yielding to easy terrain. The sun had surfaced as soon as they left the village, and it remained strong all day. Summer might be waning, but today she was at her peak.
Artair realized that there was no keeping Zia beside him, or Nessie for that matter. She would talk with him awhile, and then be off foraging in the surrounding woods, returning with a flush of excitement, waving bunches of foliage as if she had discovered gold.
But when she returned carrying a twig basket she had obviously fashioned to carry an abundance of berries, the men grabbed handfuls with appreciative grins. Nessie lingered nearby, and from the way the dog licked her lips, it appeared she had already had her share.
“Leave some for me,” Artair warned, laughing.
“We got here first,” James argued good-naturedly.
Zia hurried alongside him afterward, filling the empty basket with her bunches of leaves, and he was glad for her company. Though she was in truth a stranger, he felt comfortable with her, as though they had been longtime friends.
Bewitched.
Women could certainly bewitch, and he supposed Zia did bewitch with her contagious enthusiasm. But being a healer, she balanced it with a reverence for life. She certainly appeared a complex woman, and that enticed him.
After several hours he ordered James and Patrick to hunt a couple of fat hares for supper.