““Well, I heard the blade of a single claymore was rammed right through both their hearts.” “What a lot o’ piddle and nonsense! If that was true, then why would they still be wanderin’ these woods with their bluidy heads tucked under their arms?” Finishing off a tart chunk of cheese Muira had packed for their journey, Emma sidled closer to the circle of men seated around the fire, both appalled and transfixed by their gory gossip. A low-hanging mist was wending its way through the pale trunks of... the birches that ringed the clearing. That same mist had forced Jamie to call a halt to their harrowing rush through the wood and order his men to make camp for the night. Despite their visible unease, they had complied with a minimum of grousing and grumbling. They might fear whatever haunted this wood but they also knew that to continue racing blindly through it would mean certain destruction for both their horses’ legs and their own necks. Their voices were hushed, with none of the jovial banter or ribald taunts that usually marked their conversation.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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