They had been walking for nearly an hour, speaking of inconsequential things, sharing stories from their lives and their likes and dislikes, recounting things that had happened in their village and the people they knew there. It was one of the most pleasant conversations she’d ever had. The villagers were not unkind to her, neither did they ignore her existence. But they kept her at a distance, likely because she lived with Granny Winter, who was treated with respect but also with uncertainty.

The path Sorcha and Duncan walked took them into a meadow. Grass fluttered in the breeze. Wildflowers were abundant. No matter that the countryside held difficult memories for her, she still found it the most beautiful and inviting of places. Duncan hunched down a few steps into the meadow and plucked from the ground a beautiful purple flower. Not all men would notice such things, but she wasn’t surprised he did. He had a gentle heart and a kind soul. She was surprised, however, when he offered the flower to her.

She accepted it. “No one has ever given me a flower.” She spun it between her finger and her thumb, mesmerized by the whirl of purple hues.

“Not ever?” The revelation clearly surprised him.

“I know giving flowers to ladies is something men often do. I suppose I’m simply not the sort of lady they think of doing that for.”

“I don’t see why that would be.” He stroked his pointed beard and mustache, his expression one of deep pondering. “You’re clever and kind. You’re the very best of company. Beautiful and pleasant. You have a kind heart, and you care about people.”

She felt herself blushing all the deeper. She was never paid such compliments. Granny Winter was not unkind to her, but hers was not a disposition which leant itself to saying flowery things. Sorcha breathed in the floral scent, then tucked the stem behind her ear.

They continued walking through the meadow. She couldn’t imagine being more content with anyone than she was with him in that moment. They’d very nearly reached the other side, where the meadow gave way to a small copse of trees, and their path continued on. A niggling doubt tugged at her mind. They were going in the right direction, weren’t they?

He was trusting her to get him to Carrifran. Was she certain they were indeed on the right path? She paused, still in the meadow, still within sight of the path through the trees. She turned and looked in the direction they’d come. Why was it she felt the need to go back? She couldn’t ignore the very real pull she felt.

“What is it?” Duncan asked.

“I find myself wondering if we’re proceeding in the correct direction. Something in my mind is telling me we should be going back.”