But there was nothing she could do about him on her own. She’d have to trust the elders.
The leader beckoned the three outlanders to his side. “We will return to the camp where you can clean up and change your clothes.”
“Yes, thanks,” Max said.
The older man looked around at the crowd. “Let them follow close behind me.”
He started back through the crowd, and this time the men made a path for him—and for the three fugitives they had tracked through the swamp during the night.
Amber wrapped her arms around her shoulders, trying to avoid touching any of them. She wasn’t sure what these men had been prepared to do to her, Max and Rafe, and she was glad she wouldn’t have to find out.
Gatroux was waiting for them on the porch.
“Walk where I do,” the head man said. “I wouldn’t want you to fall into a tarn.”
“We already did that,” Max muttered.
The men who had formed the search party held back and Max stepped behind the leader—with some of the other older men behind them.
Amber knew that in this male-dominated society it would be natural for Rafe to fall in line next, but he held back, swept out his arm, and said to Amber, “You go ahead.”
She gave him a grateful look and stepped behind Max.
Gatroux turned and focused on Amber for a moment. She thought he might order her to step back. Instead, he faced forward again and started walking. And Amber hurried to keep up with the men’s long-legged strides.
In the dark the swamp had felt like a place of danger. It still was, but in the daylight she could enjoy the bright flowers, the bird calls and all the variations in the foliage.
As far as she could tell, there was no path, but Gatroux seemed sure of where he was going. And in a surprisingly short time, she saw the small houses on stilts rising above the foliage.
She felt a pang as they neared the village. What would the women think when they saw her again? She’d helped them cook. Then she’d helped steal a bunch of knives—which probably wasn’t the best opening for renewed relations.