Page 31 of The Rising Wave

The soldiers had obviously been pushing themselves as hard as she and Luc, because there was almost a festival atmosphere in their camp as they hunted, dressed game and then cooked it, chatting over the fire.

The only person who seemed unable to get into the spirit of things was the hunt master.

Being bitten by his own dogs had crushed him. Losing them probably had, too.

Ava didn't feel guilty about it.

Those dogs were ill-treated, and she had more than a suspicion they would have been put down for their part in her and Luc's escape.

They would be better off with a good home in Grimwalt.

When the sun eventually set, the men ate a meal around the fire, and when the general turned in, the volume went up a little, and then cut off, as everyone made their way to their tents.

The tents were just two sets of poles which formed a triangle on each end, and a cross-pole, over which they'd thrown stained canvas covers. There were six of them, with two guards on watch.

Ava heard one of the guards talking quietly to the horses as he checked on them. She waited for him to move on before she worked her way out of the bush, carefully crossed the stream, and made her way to the horses herself.

The soldiers had only taken what they needed from their saddle bags, and Ava moved quietly and slowly as she looked through them.

She found two sewing kits, and almost wept at the bounty that represented.

She could see Luc, lying in the open near the fire, close enough that the glow of it washed over him, so the guards could keep an eye on him.

At least it would give him some warmth.

He hadn't moved all day, and she knew the general had stabbed him to try to wake him earlier.

It had enraged her.

He was obviously senseless, and she would have to get the arrow out and stitch him before they escaped. She would not be able to lift him onto a horse herself, and she didn't think she trusted her working enough to see if she could compel one of the guards to do it for her.

It was too risky.

It was also risky to simply take him, injuries, arrow and all, and go.

Here she had the fire for warmth and light; clean, running water; and supplies.

This was the best place to help him before they ran. So she would have to make it safe to do that.

She rested a cheek against one of the horses' flanks, stroked it, and thought what she needed to do.

She would have to render all the soldiers harmless to give her time to help Luc.

But she needed Luc quiet and asleep while she did it, and so deeply asleep he wouldn't feel the pain while she removed the arrow and stitched him up.

But first, the guards on watch had to go.

She worked her way through the bags again, brought out a white undershirt. It had to be easy to see, so this would be perfect.

She worked sleep into it at the hem, but also the need to hand the shirt to the other guard, so the working transferred to him. If this worked, they would both go down one after the other, while her only risk would be placing it somewhere they could find it without being seen herself.

She waited for a chance, watching them as they made a lack-luster patrol, but they were never far enough away from the fire for her to creep closer without being seen.

Eventually, afraid time was wasting, she went back to one of the saddlebags that had contained something smooth and heavy, and brought out a piece of wood someone was carving. They had almost finished, and she ran her hand over the design with interest, before she threw it toward the river.

It landed with a splash, and both guards turned. One took a burning stick from the fire and they walked over to look.

She slipped from behind the horses, threw the shirt on the ground, and then ran silently back amongst them.

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