It wasn’t long before she was pacing the floor in front of the fireplace, wondering what was keeping Slatter. Had he run into the culprit? Could he be in trouble? Or was it worry that had her thinking he’d been gone longer than he truly had been?

What if something happened to him? What would she do? How would she get Sara to safety? She shook her head. There was no point wasting worry on something that had yet to happen. Besides, having seen how skillful a warrior her husband was there was no reason for her to think something bad may have happened to him.

Unfortunately, that did not stop her worries. They lingered, poking and pricking at her like the thorny bush she had gotten caught in while hiding from the battle that had started this adventure.

A moan drew her attention and she went to Sara’s side and saw that she shivered. It could be from the snow or the fever could be working its way through her. She decided to see if she could get some soup into the woman.

She filled a wooden bowl with the hot liquid and after grabbing a wooden spoon, she went and sat beside Sara. She was careful to let each spoonful cool some before gently placing it at her lips to dribble in. Once Sara tasted it, she lapped at it eagerly. A good sign that brought a smile to Willow’s face.

She was just wiping at Sara’s face when she heard someone at the door. She hurried to exchange the bowl for the dagger on the table all the while praying for it to be Slatter who walked through the door.

The door swung open and for a moment, she wasn’t sure who stood there. The hood of the dark cloak was pulled too far down for her to see the person’s face and the cloak was covered with snow.

The hood was suddenly tossed back and Willow’s hand fell away from the dagger with relief.

“The snowfall makes it impossible to see much and covers whatever tracks there might have been,” Slatter said, after closing the door and was quick to shed his cloak and hang it on the peg in the wall. He went straight to the fire, stretching his hands out to warm them. “How does my grandmother do?”

Willow wanted to run into his arms, let him know how relieved she was that he had returned safely, hug him tight, feel his arms wrap around her, but he had sought the fire’s warmth not hers. And she can’t say she wasn’t disappointed, foolish as it felt.

“The snow has eased her fever and though she hasn’t fully woken yet, I was able to feed her some soup, which she eagerly ate.”

“That is good to hear,” he said, rubbing his hands together vigorously.

“I’ll get you a bowl of soup. It will help warm you.”

He turned to her. “Not before I get my reward. Knowing I would claim it upon my return, did much to keep me warm in the cold.” He spread his arms out to her. “Come to me, mo ghaol.”