A distant thud. A rattle of stones. A low-voiced conversation. The hunters adjusted their direction and hustled up through the trees before they disappeared into the gloaming forest.

Shifting south, Elise started back toward the river, careful to keep foliage between herself and Gilmont’s minions.

Long before she arrived at the gorge, the rush of water filled the forest around her. At the canyon’s rim, she looked over the edge to where the river rushed thirty meters below, white and rabid, pouring over great slabs of granite in its mad dash to the Tay.

Trees grew from granite seams, twisted and gnarled, reaching for the sky. Ledges and boulders lay toppled like giant stepping stones down to the water.

Partway down, on top of a boulder, was Sammy’s brightly knitted cap—a beacon for anyone who cared to look.

A fierce emotion, almost savage in its intensity to protect, consumed Elise. That wee bampot had gone down by the river and was liable to tumble in if she didn’t retrieve him.

Without hesitation, Elise eased herself over the edge, letting her body slide until her feet touched the stone ledge below. One false step on these mist-slickened boulders and she could break herself in ways the surgeon could never mend.

Setting his pack on the ground, Harry removed his thermal imaging scope, several clips of ammo, and his knife—meager weapons against Gilmont’s hunting rifle and shoulder launcher. If he donned the jet suit, Gilmont could blow him out of the sky. Fat lot of good lugging that heavy suit had done him.

Harry swung the pack over his shoulder, then made his way down the slope, his eyes sweeping the foreground. Near a rushing stream, he stumbled across a conspicuously bare patch of earth in an area covered almost entirely with moss. Had Elise used the moss to build a shelter? He circled the vicinity, widening the circumference with each pass. Farther up the creek, he discovered a shelter hidden in the trees.

Kneeling, Harry checked the interior. Newly cut spruce boughs covered the floor. Of Elise and Sammy, he found no sign. No campfire. No footprints. A spurt of admiration filled him; Sammy was in good hands.

The tension throbbing at his temples lessened at the thought. He rose to his feet. Elise could hold her own against two men, but how long could she last before her stamina ran out? Frowning, Harry slung his pack over his shoulder, his worries returning full force.

He continued down the steep incline toward the river where the gyrocopter had previously hovered. The area lay a half mile diagonal from Elise’s camp, not far from a gorge cut out by the main tributary.