Yes, she was overreacting. It was not only Moria who let her imagination run away with her these days. She truly ought to--
A scream rang out and Ashyn fell back, Tarquin leaping in front of her, his sword at the ready, the blade quivering slightly. The sound stopped. They both turned in its direction.
"Someone is hurt," Ashyn said. "Just over there."
Tarquin looked toward where they'd heard the sound, then back at the caves.
"It is farther to return," she said. "It sounded as if a woman was being attacked. If whatever did so--human or beast--sees us fleeing . . ."
"It will give chase," he said grimly. "And yes, if we can help her . . ."
He started forward, motioning for Ashyn to stay at his back. When another scream came, he broke into a jog with Ashyn at his heels. Tova ran into the lead. The hound leaped over a bush as another scream came, so close she swore she felt it. She raced forward, almost passing Tarquin before he picked up speed to stay ahead. Tova had disappeared. Ashyn strained for some sound of him, some--
The hound growled. And something growled back. Tova snapped and snarled and there was a clang like metal, and in Ashyn's mind, she saw a sword. She ran, passing Tarquin now and barreling through the thick brush until she could see Tova's pale fur ahead, and she pushed into the clearing where he stood and . . .
A fox. That was what had growled. A young fox stood a few paces from Tova, its tail puffed as it snarled. It lunged and seemed to stop short, and Ashyn heard the metallic clang again.
"It's hurt," Ashyn said, moving forward carefully as Tova growled.
The fox had something around its leg. Wood and metal and rope.
"A trap," Tarquin said. "It's not unlike the ones we use in the North for our foxes. For their fur."
"And they simply capture the poor beast and leave it to die?"
He shook his head as he moved forward, his sword lowered. "It ought to have killed it mercifully, but the trap was damaged. See over here . . ." He pointed out the problem, though all Ashyn truly cared about was the poor beast, whining now, bloodied and in pain.
"Can you free it?" she asked.
"I can."
"Should you?" She lowered her voice. "Will it survive?"
"I'll see."
He put his sword back into his belt and approached the fox with care, his fingers extended. Ashyn tensed, ready for the fox to bite his hand, but Tarquin kept his gaze lowered, crooning under his breath, and the fox only sniffed at his fingers.
"You know animals," she said. "You're good with them."
"We have Northern dogs. That's what my family does--raises and trains them to pull sleds over the ice." He hunkered down beside the fox. "It's not going to like me taking off that trap, though. Perhaps if you speak to it, try to comfort it."
"I think you'll be better at that. Tell me what to do with the trap."
"It's bloody, my lady, and you ought not--"
"I can do it. Comfort the beast. And try not to let it bite me."
He smiled. "It won't. I'll make sure of that. Now, take your dagger . . ."
He talked her through removing the trap. As he'd said, the fox did not like it, and he had to subdue it. Once it was free, though, the beast made no move to escape, but lay on its side as they both examined the wound.
"It's the foreleg, which is better than the rear," Tarquin said. "They can survive with only three if this one does not heal."
The fox whined, as if understanding, and Tarquin absently rubbed it behind the ears. At first, the fox tensed at the touch, but then it relaxed and closed its eyes, as if enjoying the scratch.
"You have a new friend," Ashyn said.
He laughed softly. "It's a wild beast, my lady. Best left wild. And it would not like my dogs at home."