Page 72 of Fallen
Hunkering down, Coira unwrapped the bandages, her gaze taking in the wound that slashed down his right thigh. She’d hastily sewn it shut the day before. Despite her exhaustion, she’d done a surprisingly neat job of it. She’d cleaned the wound first with vinegar and then packed it with woundwort. This morning, although it was red and angry-looking, there wasn’t any sign of souring.
“It’s going to take a while before ye can walk,” she warned him, sitting back on her heels and meeting Farlan’s eye. “But ye were lucky … the blade just missed a large vein.”
Farlan nodded, his throat bobbing as a little of his earlier arrogance dimmed. “So I’ll keep the leg?”
Coira smiled. “Aye … I’d say so.”
Voices, raised in excitement, drifted through the encampment then, drawing their attention. Stepping out from under the awning, Coira spied a stocky horse approaching from the east. A big man with wild red-hair rode it, and a woman wrapped in a fur cloak perched side-saddle before him.
Coira’s heart started to pound.Fenella.
Picking up her skirts, she hurried through the camp, skirting around smoking fire pits and men packing up tents, to greet the newcomers.
And she knew, the moment she saw Gunn’s face clearly, that the warrior brought good news.
Reining in the horse, he smiled. “Yer treatment worked,” he rumbled. “Fen is on the mend. God bless ye.”
Gently, he drew back the hood of his companion’s fur mantle, revealing a pale face. Fenella peered out, and even managed a wan smile of her own when she spied Coira.
Excited chatter went up around them, joy rippling through the camp. Many of the folk here hadn’t expected to see Fenella alive again.
A wide smile split Coira’s face. The relief that flooded over her made her legs wobble. So much so, that she was grateful when a strong male arm fastened around her waist.
“It’s so good to see ye back, Fen. I was wondering when ye two would get here,” Craeg greeted them. “Lucky for ye, there are still some bannocks left. I know ye have the appetite of a half-starved hound, Gunn.”
Laughter rose up into the balmy morning air. Coira joined in, the tension she’d been carrying around all morning, as she’d waited for Gunn’s arrival, releasing.
Gunn grinned. “Speak for yerself, man.” His gaze then lit up as he took in the sight of Coira and Craeg standing together.
Meanwhile, Coira leaned into Craeg, her arm snaking around his chest. She was aware of the curious looks, the stares, around them. If any of them had suspected the developing relationship between their leader and the woman who’d recently joined them, they were now vindicated.
Warmth suffused Coira as she realized she didn’t care who knew. Nothing in the world felt as right as Craeg’s arm around her.
“I don’t want to leave ye here alone, Mother.” Sister Elspeth’s voice cracked as she spoke, betraying just how upset she was.
The nun faced the abbess at the foot of the steps to the kirk. Like the group of nuns behind her, she wore a leather pack upon her back. However, Sister Elspeth’s right arm was in a sling.
“I won’t be alone, Sister Elspeth,” the abbess replied, favoring the nun with a tired smile. “Sister Magda is with me … and so will be Sisters Anis and Fritha … if they live.” She paused then. Sadly, Sister Morag had passed away during the night. Earlier that morning, Coira had shown the abbess how to lance plague boils, a vile task but a potentially life-saving one. “We won’t tarry here for much longer either. As soon as we can, we too shall move on.”
Hope flared in Sister Elspeth’s eyes. “Will ye join us at Inishail Priory?”
The abbess shook her head.
Sister Elspeth’s gaze guttered. “Why not?”
“I don’t know where I shall go after this … perhaps Sister Magda and the others will join ye, but I will seek solitude.”
A brittle silence followed these words.
Looking on, Coira saw that Sister Elspeth was now close to tears. She was an odd woman, Coira reflected. Watching her now, Coira realized just how much Kilbride meant to Sister Elspeth. It tore her up inside to leave it.
The nuns filed out of the abbey, solemn black-garbed figures. They carried a defeated aura about them—so different from the fierce women of a day earlier. They wielded no weapons now, and probably would never do so again.
A dull sensation settled in the center of Coira’s chest. She glanced across at where Craeg stood, watching the nuns leave. She was happy to stand at this man’s side, to go with him to Dunan. But at the same time, the situation here at Kilbride filled her with regret.
Not for herself, but for the Sisters, for Mother Shona.
Turning to the abbess, she met her eye. “None of this is yer fault, Mother,” she said softly. “Please don’t blame yerself.”
