Surprisingly, the two men looked to Zia, and it was James who asked. “Will you cook for us?”
Zia smiled with glee. “Wild onions and I think…” She tapped her chin in thought. “I know…” And off she ran, the dog running after her.
“Be careful your arrows don’t find her,” Artair warned his men.
“Worry not, I’ll hear their approach,” Zia called out.
The men stared wide-eyed after her, and Artair just stared, his mouth slightly agape, too late to respond to her for she had already disappeared into the woods.
How she had heard words meant only for his men he didn’t know.
“You know witches have powers we don’t,” James whispered to him.
“You think Zia a witch?” Artair asked bluntly.
James scratched his bushy hair. “She is a strange one.”
“So that makes her a witch?”
“She is a beauty,” James said even lower, as if afraid she’d overhear him.
“That makes her a witch too?”
“I’m just saying maybe we should beware.”
“You asked her to cook the hare, giving her ample opportunity to poison us.”
James had to think a moment, and then grinned as if he’d settled his own doubt. “She smiles too much to be a witch. Witches don’t smile. They’re mean buggers.”
“I’m glad we’ve settled that,” Artair said, though he wondered how often others questioned the same about Zia. The thought plagued him the whole hour before a campsite was decided on for the night.
Zia had suggested the place, which was near a stream, so the horses could drink their fill. She had returned to her foraging, promising to meet them at the location. Artair truly should not have allowed her to wander off on her own. There was always the chance she wouldn’t return, and with no knowledge of the area, he and his men could very well be lost for days.
However, he believed Zia true to her word that she was a healer who did her duty. She would want to return to see how Ronan was healing. She had remarked about how he had been healing nicely when she left, so she had to be curious as to how he’d been during her absence.
Artair planned on questioning her about Ronan tonight, after they ate and one of the men took watch while the others slept. He would find out as much about Ronan as he could for he wanted to be prepared to help his youngest brother however possible. He’d been missing over a year now, and everyone missed him terribly and wanted nothing more than his safe return home.
His thoughts were interrupted when the two warriors returned boasting of their hunt and showing off two plump hares each had caught. Zia followed them, her basket overflowing with a variety of greens and several wild onions. That her foraging proved beneficial was obvious in her brightly flushed cheeks and sparkling green eyes.
She was a tempty morsel, but Artair’s hunger was for information and food and he intended to assuage both as soon as possible.
The meal was amazingly delicious, and the men ate with vigor, not one of them mentioning anything about witches. With everyone relaxed, conversation was lively, and when all the meat had been cleaned from the bones, James stood and volunteered for the first watch.
“That’s not necessary,” Zia informed him.
“And why is that?” Artair asked.
“These woods are safe.”
“No woods are safe,” Artair said.
“These woods are. Trust me.”
James glanced around the landscape skeptically. “Are there wee folk about?”
“James!” Artair warned sternly.
“Don’t tell me you don’t believe,” James argued. “You heard yourself how the wee folk stole all of Bogg’s coins and left him near the river to almost drown.”
“Bogg drank himself drunk and had to concoct a good tale to appease his wife, or she’d have drowned him herself.”
The others laughed.
“He knew no one would dare speak against the wee folk,” Artair finished. “Bogg used his head, once it cleared, and told a tale that keeps growing taller with each telling.”
The other men nodded in agreement.
James looked to Zia for clarification. “If not the wee folk, then how are these woods safe?”
“Sentinels.”
Artair sprang to his feet, he and his men drawing their swords as Nessie sprinted to his side.
Chapter 3
“Your weapons are not necessary,” Zia said. “Besides, they are useless. Our sentinels are excellent archers. If they intended to kill you, you would have been dead when you first stepped on our land.”
Artair ordered his men to put away their swords. “They have been watching us all day?” he asked.