She tried to tell herself she had given Duncan ample warning about the dangers he faced, that his knowledge of it would protect him. But her father and mother had understood the threat of the cù-sìth. Her father, after all, had shouted for them to run for the cottage; it was the cottage, and the cottage alone, where they would have been safe. They had known what they faced; they simply hadn’t had time to escape.

She alternated between pacing the road and sitting on a large rock nearby. She kept herself out of view of the path, not entirely certain how far one had to travel before seeing the Bean-Nighe. But, heavens, how she was tempted to look for Duncan!

Hers was more than merely the concern one human being ought to have for another. She liked Duncan. She knew him to be a good and kindhearted person. He was clever and caring. Handsome. Generous. How strange that he had never been married. Few in their village remained bachelors, but he had, despite his caring and generous heart.

She rose from her rock once more and began pacing. Duncan was undertaking the task, would be successful, and would return. Of course he would.

She hoped.

She turned back toward the rock on which she’d been sitting, but she didn’t take a single step.

There, standing where she’d been, was Duncan. He had arrived silently. Granny’s shoes were very effective. She hoped they had proven just as effective in his very dangerous task.

She remained rooted to the spot, watching him, unable to even speak.

“She was there,” he said. “I never looked away. She didn’t see me.”

Sorcha began breathing a little more easily.

“I snatched her up off the ground, asked my required three questions, and answered hers. Then she let me go.”

Sorcha pressed a hand to her pounding heart. “Then you’re safe? The shroud will not be yours?” Her voice emerged a bit breathless. She’d been so very afraid for him!

“It will not. And, further, she told me how to heal Donella.”

Most of the tension in Sorcha’s body eased. She crossed to him. “What do we need to do?”

“We have to fetch water from the mouth of the gargoyle in the churchyard at Carrifran. If Donella drinks it, she will be healed.”

“Then our journey is not yet complete.” She hadn’t anticipated that. They hadn’t a great deal of time before they must return.

“I don’t know where Carrifran is,” he said.

“I do,” Sorcha said. “It lies at least a day’s walk from here.”

“If we begin now, we should reach Carrifran tomorrow,” he said, clearly thinking out loud. “That still leaves us three days before Bealltainn.”