“There are none,” Sorrell said calmly, having expected this of Willow. It was in her nature to weigh all sides and Sorrell took no offense to her suggestion.
“I can think of one extremely important one,” Willow said.
“Sorrell would remain close by,” Snow said with a tender smile that displayed relief. “You would be a short ride away.”
“And no one would go hungry,” Sorrell said, the thought having weighed heavily upon her.
“It might be a lean winter for food,” Willow said. “I’ve checked the storage sheds and I’ve seen what is left of the fields to harvest. While low, we will do what we must to get through the winter. Remember, James is not familiar with the workings of our clan, though it is good that he worries. It shows that he truly cares for the clan.”
“And I don’t?” Sorrell snapped.
Willow reached out to take hold of Sorrell’s hand. “That was never a thought, Sorrell.”
Sorrell sighed and squeezed her sister’s hand. “I know. I’m sorry. I’m just so torn.”
“Perhaps Seth MacCannish won’t be as bad as we think,” Snow said and the three of them laughed.
“We will think on this and see what we can do.” Willow took hold of Sorrell’s hand and the three sisters held tightly to each other. “We are together, always here for each other, and that’s what matters the most.”
John favored the night. It was quiet, no one about. The air was crisp and the night sky dark, barely a sliver of a moon. He walked through the village, his steps silent for a large man, but then he had learned to walk gently and make little sound.
He had hoped to find an abandoned cottage by now, a place to be alone, to think on his next step. Unfortunately, he hadn’t been successful and so he stopped at various clans along the way seeking shelter and food for a night or two before moving on. He hadn’t wanted to head north, at least not yet, but it was imperative he remain on the path his search took him.
He stopped a minute and dropped his head back, then rolled his neck around, hearing the creaks and cracks. The past two years had been anything but easy, especially since he had found no answers to his nightmare. Not that he would stop searching, not until he found the person responsible for the hell he’d been living.
He continued walking, enjoying the cold night air that nipped at his cheeks and the silence that surrounded him like a comforting blanket.
Don’t you like people?
He almost stopped upon hearing Sorrell’s voice in his head.
He had liked people… once. Had trusted them as well, though no more. Not a one. Not for two years now.
Now he held his tongue, let others talk. Though, he had spoken some to Sorrell. Had he a choice? She had chatted away and oddly enough he hadn’t minded. He had actually regretted when she had taken her leave.
Maybe it was her blunt nature. She didn’t hide anything. She didn’t censor her words. She spoke as she felt. He also admired the fact that she wanted to fall in love. He had thought he was loved, a love that could never be challenged. In the end, he had questioned if love even existed.
He shook away the troubling thoughts and continued his walk. He had noticed some of the cottages were in need of repair and the storage sheds as well. Sorrell had been generous with food and drink. Tomorrow he would offer to help with repairs in exchange for the food and shelter provided. Then in no more than two days’ time he would take his leave.
Sorrell’s lovely face popped into his head and he shook it away. He had no time to favor a woman. Ale would settle that, and he had a good amount left after Dorrit had refilled the pitcher for him. He turned and headed back to the stable.
“It is time to come home.”
John stopped at the sound of the familiar voice. He reached down and grabbed the dagger from his boot and looked to see a figure emerge from the side of a cottage, though he remained in the shadows. It didn’t matter. He didn’t need to see his face to know who he was.
“I have no home,” John said.
“Your father commands it.”
Anger marked John’s words. “I have no father.”
“He has had a change of heart.”
“The man has no heart.”
The voice in the shadows grew annoyed. “Regardless of what you think, he commands your return.”
“It will take more than a command for me to return,” John warned.
“What will it take?”
“His word he will not kill me would be a good start,” John said bitterly.
“He does not want you dead.”
“You mean he no longer wants me dead,” John accused, the pain of what his father had done to him as hurtful as the day it had happened.