“Have you seen Raven?” Wolf shouted.
The leper struggled to speak, his voice raspier than usual. “I saw a cloaked figure before darkness claimed me, in that direction.” He lifted his arm with effort and pointed.
“I’ll stay with the leper to make sure he’s all right,” George said.
“See if you can get him to the cottage where he last stayed so he can rest,” Wolf said and hurried past the others to follow behind Iver, who had taken the lead.
Iver stopped and pointed to the ground. “Blood.”
Fear rushed up to choke Wolf. Was it his wife’s blood? Had she come this way? He hoped not.
They followed the drops of blood until they finally vanished. Footprints led them in another direction. Time seemed to rush by, though it passed more slowly than felt. When Wolf found his wife, he intended to keep her by his side until this thing with Brynjar was done. He refused to give thought that she wouldn’t be found. She was too skilled of a warrior not to survive.
Wolf determined they would only continue so far, dusk growing near. They would have to return to the village and gather torches to continue the search.
He was about to call a return to the village when they came upon a cropping of rocks and at the foot of the largest rock laid a crumpled body, a cloak concealing much of the person.
Iver stopped and stared, his face pale as if afraid to proceed and find it was Raven.
Wolf had no such qualms, he hurried to the fallen body and dropped down beside it. He almost roared to the heavens, but kept control of his relief as he called out, “It’s not Raven.”
At first glance one would surmise that the man had slipped off the rock and died, but that was not what happened. On closer inspection, a knife was found protruding from his chest.
“Another of Brynjar’s men?” Fyn asked, coming up beside Wolf.
“I can only assume,” Wolf said and pulled the knife out of the man.
The man’s eyes burst open and he drew a quick breath.
“A woman. Did you see a woman?” Wolf demanded before life could drain completely out of the man.
He gagged as he struggled to speak. “He knows.”
Wolf roared out his rage so strongly it echoed through the woods and was returned by the woeful howl of wolves.
Fyn spoke after Wolf stood. “Dusk draws near. We need to get torches to continue the search.”
“He knows,” Wolf repeated the dead man’s words, a fiery anger in his dark eyes.
“Does he speak of Brynjar, and what would he know?” Fyn asked.
Lars shook his head. “He could refer to anyone.”
Iver pointed to the dead man. “It must be important that he used his last breath to tell us.”
One of Wolf’s warriors rushed out of the woods, his shouts interrupting any further discussion. “She’s been found. Lady Raven has been found.”
Wolf listened to his warrior explain as they made haste back to the village. His wife had been found making her way to the village, a gash to her head. She was presently at the longhouse, Greta tending her. He kept a quick pace, needing to feel his wife in his arms as fast as possible.
He stopped once inside the longhouse and stared at his wife sitting calmly at a table, Greta clearing the tabletop of the bloody cloths and bucket. Raven met his eyes and smiled and his heart nearly stopped, the relief that she was there safe overwhelming him. He hurried to her and yanked her off the bench into a fierce hug.
With her arms locked in the hug, she was unable to return it and though it said much, she preferred to have her arms around him as well—and also be able to breathe.
“You steal the breath from me, husband,” she said with some difficultly and he loosened his hold on her, though didn’t release her.
She was able to get her arms up and around his neck and was startled when he drew his head back as she went to kiss him.
“How did you get that gash on your head?” he demanded, his eyes focused on it. Before she could answer he turned to Greta, who was nearly to the door. “Greta, she will heal well?”
Greta turned quickly and nodded. “Lady Raven does well. The wound is not deep and bled little. The thick coat of honey should help it heal nicely.”
“You will look in on her later,” he ordered.
Greta nodded and took her leave, Fyn following her out, along with her other men and Lars, leaving the couple alone.
“Tell me what happened?” Wolf demanded and annoyance sparked in his dark eyes when she shook her head.
“Not until you kiss me.”
His annoyance fled as his lips landed on hers in a powerful kiss, lingering in it, letting himself feel the depths of it and know this was real. She was there with him, safe in his arms. He followed it with several short kisses, needing the taste of her to linger on his lips. Finally, though reluctantly, he eased his face away from hers and with one arm around her lowered them to sit on the bench.