Tarass went to Runa and gently turned her on her back to see that the side of her head was bleeding. He lifted her and he was relieved to hear her moan. He needed one of them to wake and tell him what happened and who had taken his wife. He laid her on the bed and turned to see Nettle enter the cottage, look about, then grab a bucket and run out to return moments later with the bucket filled with snow.

She took it to Slatter. “This should help wake her.”

Slatter scooped up a handful of snow and laid it against his wife’s face and on the bump that was beginning to bruise.

Nettle went to the bed and began cleaning Runa’s wound, talking to her the whole time.

Tarass almost hugged Nettle when Runa started talking before her eyes were even open.

“I tried to stop him.”

“Who?” Tarass demanded.

“A stranger,” she said, her eyes fighting to open.

The first words out of Willow’s mouth as she came to and before she opened her eyes were, “He took Snow?”

“Easy,” Slatter cautioned, relieved to hear his wife speak. “You have a good-size bump to your head.” Concern for the bairn had his hand going to rest on her stomach.

“No worries there,” Willow assured him.

A weak bark alerted all that Thaw was waking.

“Do you know who took her, Willow?” Tarass asked, his anger taking rein.

“No one familiar to me. He was a big man, older, gray hair. He hit me with the hilt of his dagger before I could do anything.” Tears threatened Willow’s eyes. “The sweet cakes. Someone put something in the sweetcakes that put Snow to sleep. She’ll wake and not know where she is.”

Tarass turned to Runa, and she responded before his question left his lips.

“Someone from the kitchen brought the sweet cakes.”

A commotion outside the door had Tarass headed for it when the door opened and Fasta came stumbling in, Rannock having given her a rough shove.

“We found her a short distance in the woods. She was waiting for us,” Rannock said.

It wasn’t lost to anyone there that Fasta wore the garments of her people, rough cloth, fur and animal hides. She held herself tall, her shoulders drawn back, her chin raised more than a notch, her regal stance letting them know she thought herself above them.

“Where’s my wife?” Tarass demanded.

“I’m here to take you to her. You and you alone,” Fasta emphasized. “Unless, of course, you want her dead, which will happen if you don’t come with me… alone… and without a weapon.”

Willow gripped her husband’s hand, fear for her sister and Tarass trembling it.

“Lead the way,” Tarass said and when Fasta turned, he sent a look to Rannock. He would know what to do.