With her needs seen to, she was looking forward to returning to camp and getting her feet warm and her boots dry. She took a few steps in the direction she had come—at least she thought she did—but when she did not spot the two warriors, she wondered if she had reared off course. A few more steps and she nearly moaned with frustration.
How could she have gotten herself lost? She could have sworn she had turned back—she shook her head. She had not turned completely around when she had finished. Her only choice, though embarrassing, was to call out so they could hear her and hopefully they would have no difficulty finding her.
“Wintra! Wintra, where are you.”
She sighed with relief hearing Torr’s urgent shout. She took a few steps forward, following his voice and was about to call out to him, when her foot caught on something and she went tumbling down the hill that she had not realized she had been standing on.
Snow completely engulfed her as she continued to tumble until she finally slammed into something. She rolled onto her back, spitting snow from her mouth, wiping it from her eyes, and taking a breath to calm herself.
“Wintra, answer me!”
She heard the worry in Torr’s voice, and she turned with a wince to get to her feet and do as he demanded and found herself staring at the wide open eyes of another frozen dead man. She let out a scream that echoed off the trees like a tolling bell. And she continued screaming as she scrambled to get to her feet. She slipped several times as she did, anxious to get away from the cold, stiff body.
As she finally found firm footing, she was grabbed around the waist and slammed into a hard chest. She did not need to see who it was; she knew it was Torr.
He hugged her tight for a moment, then shoved her at arm’s length and, as he kept firm hold of her arms, he looked her up and down and asked, “Are you hurt?”
“No, but he is dead,” she informed Torr as she peered past his shoulder.
Torr turned, his hands slipping off her and quickly grabbing one of her hands to hold tightly.
Wintra figured he was not taking any chance of losing her and that was just fine with her, since his strong grip always made her feel safe. She also appreciated the presence of the many warriors who circled them, Sloan included.
“What have we here?” Sloan asked, dropping down on his haunches to take a closer look.
“Another dead man,” Torr said and drew Wintra close against his side.
“How did you come across him?” Sloan asked.
“I tumbled down the hill,” she admittedly reluctantly, feeling foolish for her misstep.
“You sustained no wounds?” Sloan asked anxiously.
“I’m fine,” she assured him even though she felt a bit lightheaded and looked to Torr. “He seems to have the same type wound as the other dead man, and yet he is far from where we found the other body. Do you think someone is tracking and killing these warriors?”
“There is no need for you to worry about this,” Sloan said standing straight. “Cree will see to it.”
She turned to Sloan, the lightheadedness growing. “It concerns me and, therefore, I will worry about it whether you tell me to or not and as far as my brother—” A wave of nausea hit her so hard that it stole her breath, and she barely called out Torr’s name before everything went dark.
Torr felt his heart slam into his chest when he heard his name spill with such urgency and fright from her lips. Then when her body went limp and she was about to collapse, he scooped her up in his arms.
“There will be holy hell to pay if anything happens to her,” Sloan said as he hurried with Torr back to camp.
Sloan was right about that, but it would not be only Cree who would be raising hell. Right now, however, it was Wintra that Torr was more concerned with. He had seen people take a tumble, get up, and think nothing of it only to slip into sleep and never wake.
He placed her gently on the blanket near the fire and saw then just how pale she was and fear tightened his gut. He hurried to scoop up a handful of snow and rub it over her face.
“Come on, Wintra, come back to me. You will not leave me now.”
Sloan watched surprised by the way Torr spoke to Wintra. It was as if— No, it could not be. God help him if— He shook his head. The Almighty himself could not help Torr if he had foolishly fallen in love with Wintra.
“Damn it, Princess, come back to me,” he shouted tapping her cheeks, trying to revive her.