“Sip it,” he advised, and rising, went down to the children, whom he sorted in quick order. The meat and skin were packed into my basket, the remnants shoveled behind a tree out of my sight, and the children sent down to the distant creek with firm instructions to wash themselves and the dog.

“Your grannie’s a bit tired from the walk, mo leannan,” he said with a quick glance at me. “We’ll just rest here for a bit ’til ye come back. Amanda, stay by Frances and mind her, aye? And you lads keep a sharp eye out; it’s no a good idea to prance through the woods smelling o’ blood. Ye see any pigs, get the girls up a tree and sing out. Oh—ye’d best have this,” he said, picking up the rifle and handing it to Jem. “Just in case.” He gave Germain the shot pouch and watched as they made their way down the slope toward the sound of water, more subdued now but still giggling and arguing as they went.

“So, then.” He sat down beside me, eyeing me closely.

“Really, I’m all right,” I said—and I did in fact feel much better physically, though there was still a deep quiver in my bones.

“Aye, I can see ye are,” he said cynically. He didn’t push further, though, just sat beside me, forearms resting on his knees, relaxed—but ready for anything that might happen.

“Je suis prest,” I said, trying to smile despite the thin layer of cold sweat that covered my face. “I don’t suppose you have any salt in your sporran, do you?”

“Of course I do,” he said, surprised, and reaching in withdrew a small twist of paper. “Is it good when ye’re peely-wally?”

“Maybe.” I touched a finger to the salt and put a few grains on my tongue. The taste was cleansing, rather to my surprise. I followed it with a cautious sip of whisky and felt remarkably better.

“I don’t know why I asked,” I said, handing him back the twist. “Salt is supposed to lay ghosts, though, isn’t it?”

A faint smile touched his mouth as he looked at me.

“Aye,” he said. “So what’s haunting ye, Sassenach?”

It would have been easy to brush it off, ignore it. But quite suddenly, I couldn’t do that any longer.

“Why doesn’t the dog trouble you?” I said bluntly.

His face went blank for a moment, and he looked away, but only to think. He blinked once or twice, sighed, and turned back to me, with the air of one girding his loins for something unpleasant.

“She did,” he said quietly. “When I heard the howling that first night, I thought—well, ye’ll maybe ken what I thought.”

“That—perhaps her master had come with her? Had—maybe put her on your trail?” My own voice was little more than a whisper, but he heard me and nodded slowly.

“Aye,” he said, just as softly. I saw his throat move as he swallowed. “To think that I’d maybe brought something home …”