CHAPTER 11
The dogs barked insanely as Ross stepped from the wooden shed, dragging a lifeless body behind him. That finally drew
his half brothers’ interest and, suddenly intrigued, they stepped closer.
“Who’s that?” Duncan asked, resting his gaze on the young woman whose hair was dragging in the mud and whose cheek
was visibly swollen.
Ross shrugged and pushed away the shaggy dog that had started licking the woman’s face.
“I don’t know. Barra was barking. I thought she had smelled a rat or something—and she had. This woman was hiding in
the shed.”
Dougal knelt beside the woman’s slack body and turned her face to him.
“She’s a Cameron!”
In disgust, he pulled away his hand and wiped it on his plaid.
“Interesting. That explains why you decided to pummel her half to death rather than ask what she was doing in there.”
He got up and slapped an unprepared Ross right across the face. The dogs immediately started defending their owner,
growling and baring their teeth.
“Fool! We must find out who she is and what business she has here. Thanks to your rough welcome, it may now take hours
before we can get an answer out of her—only we don’t have hours!”
Ross pushed out his lower lip in anger. He could never do anything right by his brothers. This time, though, they should
be grateful. They would never have noticed this enemy without Barra, his trusted dog.
“She’s only a Cameron wench. We should just finish her off. Who knows what she’s doing here in this godforsaken
place. It’s certainly not a coincidence that she was hiding here.” Ross struggled to defend himself.
“Right, it’s not a coincidence!” Dougal snapped. “Which is exactly why we need to find out who’s behind this. We
also need to get away from here as quickly as possible. In all likelihood, this wench was not on her own. Send out your
dogs and see if they can find anyone else. I don’t want any more Camerons hiding in the bushes. As for her”—he
pointed at the woman on the floor—“we will take her with us, just in case.”
Duncan knitted his brow. He could feel that this woman meant trouble, and he didn’t like the idea of dragging her along
with them. Taking a Cameron clan member prisoner could have serious consequences. But, even though she had the typical
facial features of a Cameron, she was dressed in rags. The dress was barely good enough for a maidservant. Perhaps she
was the result of an extramarital enjoyment between the great laird and some peasant woman? At any rate, her presence
raised a few questions, and he supposed it couldn’t hurt to have a bargaining chip. Which was why Duncan finally agreed
with Dougal’s plan.
Nerves strained, Duncan watched as Ross heaved the unconscious woman onto Dougal’s horse and tied her up. Then he spat
on the floor and entered the cottage through the main door. It was a perfect hiding place. The locals tended to avoid
this old stone cottage because legend had it that the spirit of an old druid lurked here, waiting for forgiveness—the
forgiveness he was never granted during his lifetime.
Duncan didn’t care about such old wives’ tales. He had learned early on to fight for everything and to be tough and
strong. Which was why he had taught himself never to show weakness. The only things of importance to him were those he
could touch and hold in his hands. He pinned the Stuart clan’s brooch to his plaid and gently stroked its shiny silver
surface. Then he took his broadsword and pushed it into the leather sheath on his back. Scanning the otherwise empty
room one last time, he lifted his saddlebag off the floor. The silver pieces in it would at long last help him put his
plan into action.
He hurried to untie his horse, fasten the saddlebags, and get on.
“Let’s go!” he bellowed, galloping off and leaving his two brothers in a hail of flung-up dirt and mud.
The shallow hills seemed to fly away under his horse’s hooves. He enjoyed leading with his brothers riding so far
behind. It was only when he reached the crest of the first hill, after galloping through the gurgling source of a
stream, that he pulled in the reins so his horse would slow down and allow his brothers to catch up.
In silence, they rode southward through the fog that was slowly dissolving. Their path took them deeper into the
hillside, until mountains rose almost menacingly around them. A number of small torrents washed over the trail in front
of them, carrying with them loose rubble. Their horses struggled to find a foothold in some places.
The uneven terrain and extra weight of the woman took their toll on Dougal’s horse. By noon they had made only half the
journey to their arranged meeting point. The horses had slowed down, and the last climb had made them foam at the mouth.
They urgently needed a break.
Last night’s rain had turned a trickle into a torrential stream a few miles farther up, and they took that as a good
opportunity to stop and rest. Duncan and Dougal lay spread-eagled in the grass, broadswords within arm’s reach, while
Ross led the exhausted horses to the river. Even the dogs came running—panting, and lapping at the fresh, cold water.
When one of them leapt into the stream, water spewed up. The horses got skittish, whinnying and nervously treading on
the spot.
The unknown woman groaned in a haze, and Ross hurried to lift her from the back of the horse before she could startle
the nervous animals even further with some careless movement.
I landed on the ground with a thud. The back of my head banged against the big rock someone had propped me against. I
felt slack and awful, and the complete lack of control over my body terrified me. Only now could I get a good look at
the man standing before me. Lightning flashed before my inner eye, but too briefly for me to make sense of it. It was
the echo of a dream, or a faded memory. I ran my hands over my face and touched my cracked lips with my tongue. I was
terribly thirsty. Maybe that was why I was unable to think straight.
The guy had longish red hair and looked at me with suspicion, as if expecting me to grow a second head or something. I
felt like I’d been abducted by aliens, so the idea of a second head didn’t seem too far-fetched. I grabbed my throat
and desperately stared at the river a little ways away from me. At this point I didn’t even care that these filthy dogs
were frolicking in my drinking water, stirring up mud. All I wanted was to quench this goddamn thirst! The urge to drink
was stronger than my fear of the stranger.
“Please,” I begged with a scratchy voice. “May I please go drink some water?”
He glanced from the riverbank and back to me, before deeming it low-risk enough and nodded for me to move.
“Aye, but no funny business,” he answered firmly, while also helping me to my feet and steering me toward the river.
I had no idea what kind of “funny business” I could possibly get up to, what with my hands tied and in the presence of
these angry, snarling wolfhounds. But since my thirst trumped all my other thoughts, I limited myself to greedily
shoveling fresh, precious water into my mouth.
God, I had never tasted anything so delicious. I could almost detect the minerals that the water had flushed out of the
mountains on its way to the river. It was icy cold, but what a pleasure for my parched throat!
“Not too much at once,” the boy warned. “Take smaller sips—otherwise you’ll get sick.”
Slowly, I lowered my hands and dipped them into the stream. I enjoyed the feeling of the cold, swirling water on my skin
before taking a final scoop to wash my face. As I dried my face on my sleeve, the rough material of my dress scratched
it. I took my time so I could gather my thoughts. I fought back fear, refusing to allow it to paralyze me. I needed to
keep a clear mind, no matter how hard it was. I turned around and smiled at the redheaded boy, trying to seem genuine.
“Thank you.”
He blushed unexpectedly and then quickly made an effort to look grouchy.
“It’s all right,” he grumbled. “Go sit back down, and don’t even think about trying to run. The dogs would easily
track and find you, and that would not be an enjoyable experience for you.”
I nodded and did exactly as I was told. He seemed satisfied and turned away to tend to the horses again, strapping bags
of oats over their mouths.
I had to find out what this guy wanted from me, and where I was.
Only now that I discreetly looked around did I notice the other two men lying in the grass. They were of much greater
physical stature than my handler. Even though they were taking in the sun with their eyes closed, they looked big and
strong and terrifying.
It dawned on me that the boy and his dogs were the least of my problems. I really had to try not to mess with those
other two. Their giant swords sparkled in the sunlight, and I couldn’t help but wonder how many lives they must have
taken with them. Up until now I wasn’t a hundred percent convinced that I had traveled back in time, but here I saw
living proof.
The two men looked like brothers and true Scottish warriors. They wore boots, thick woolen socks, and dark-tartan plaids
draped around their hips in pleats and held in place by a belt. The plaids extended up to their roughly woven shirts and
were draped over their shoulders, held there by a silver brooch.
Still, even though their high-quality weaponry suggested that they belonged to a noble clan, they did not match the
glorified, romantic image of a Highlander that I had created in my mind. They were filthy with uncombed, matted hair.
Plus, even from where I was sitting, I could see the dirt under my handler’s fingernails.
I averted my eyes when the dogs shook the water from their coats. The boy cursed, chasing the dogs away and wiping the
water from his face. Glancing over at me, he sat down on a piece of rock a few yards away and rummaged through the fur
pouch hanging from his belt. It took him a while to find the small piece of wood he was looking for; then he pulled a
small knife from his sock and started carving. The dogs lay down at his feet and took a snooze.
This seemingly ordinary activity made my eyes well up. I suddenly felt extremely homesick. I didn’t belong here. This
was not my world. I couldn’t allow these men, whoever they were, to keep taking me farther and farther away from the
portal of time. I had to go back! After all, I didn’t know where I was or where they were taking me—much less why they
were doing this.
Seriously, dude! I had to pull myself the hell together if I wanted to get out of this alive!
I tore at the bindings on my hands and feet, but the knots were foolproof. The rope wouldn’t give a single inch. If
only I could reach Sean’s knife—which, lucky for me, they hadn’t noticed. I knew I wouldn’t be able to use it
unobserved. But that fact raised my spirits and spurred me on. I had to act. The time for being a passive observer was
over, that was for sure. Once before I had submitted to my destiny and given myself to fate—just as Vanora had
predicted in one of my visions. If fate was now putting me to the test, then I would be strong enough to face it.
I would fight!
But how could I fight if I didn’t even know how to talk to that guy? It seemed sensible to do as little talking as
possible. Maybe then I’d have a chance to hide that I wasn’t from this era.
I got my handler’s attention by quietly clearing my throat. When he raised a puzzled eyebrow, I started talking.
“Who are you? And where are you taking me?”
The young Scot stopped but avoided looking at me. So I continued.
“I would like to know…,” I began, but his alarmed look and the almost imperceptible shaking of his head made me shut
up. I raised my head inquisitively, trying to figure out his strange behavior.
“Don’t! Stay where you are!” he hissed through gritted teeth.
He continued carving the piece of wood, all the while discreetly scanning his surroundings. I pushed myself closer
against the rock behind me. He pretended to stretch out his legs and then touched his dogs with the tips of his boots as
if by accident. The dogs immediately pricked their ears and lifted their noses into the wind. When their deep, sonorant
growls confirmed his suspicions, he gently petted the closest dog and reassured it. “Sguir, mo charaid.”
The wolfhounds twitched but obediently kept their position.
I nonchalantly looked at the other two men lying in the grass. Their eyes were still closed, but their swords had
disappeared under their plaids, as had their sword hands—which probably already clutched the weapons.
Suddenly, my mouth felt very dry. I sensed that they were expecting an attack, and when the skinny, red-haired guy got
up to seemingly put another bag of oats around a horse’s mouth, he casually reached for his sword dangling from its
leather sheath by the saddle. He pulled it out in one fluid movement and hid it in the pleats of his kilt. Then he
pushed one of his dogs in my direction and bent down to pet the animal.
“Stay here! Don’t move, and you’ll be safe. Barra will protect you.”
And just as he sat back down on his rock, all hell broke loose.
Five men, armed with axes and swords, stormed from the underbrush with the intention of clobbering to death the two
“sleeping” dark-haired, dangerous-looking men before turning to the weaker-seeming teenager as their easiest victim.
After that, nothing would stop them from stealing the saddlebags and precious horses.
But the first attacker died before even registering that their victims were already wide-awake and battle ready. His axe
cut through air as his now-lifeless body slumped to the ground. One of the dark-haired warriors yanked his sword from
the dead body with one strong, powerful move. Then he hurried over to the younger one who was in the process of fighting
three of the bandits.
I crouched into the rock as much as I could. I made myself look as small as possible and was thankful for the tall,
snarling dog by my side. It seemed that the attackers had not yet noticed me, because nobody made a move in my
direction. Of the original five bandits, there were now only three left after my captors had rid themselves of another
one with a well-aimed blow as the dogs brought the man down. Once the remaining three attackers realized that they
couldn’t possibly win, they beat a hasty retreat. Followed by the growls and barks of the hounds, they fled into the
woods and disappeared in the underbrush.
“Bas maillaichte! Ross! You should have warned us. Those flea-ridden bandits almost killed us in our sleep!” one of
the dark-haired hunks hollered while simultaneously wiping his blade on the clothes of a dead man. The one he’d called
Ross—my handler—shrugged and walked over to me.
“I saw that you noticed them the same moment I did. They weren’t particularly quiet about it, and, besides, the sun
reflected off their weapons. Probably peasants who thought it’d be easy enough to mug some harmless, unarmed travelers.
Had they succeeded in stabbing you in your sleep, Dougal, then that’s exactly what you would have deserved.”
He stepped up to me and held out his hand.
“Are you well?”
I only noticed that I was shaking all over when I tried to get up and my legs refused to work.
Was I well? Hell, no! And things weren’t looking too well, either! Two dead bodies lay just a few yards away—killed
before my eyes by dirty savages using broadswords! And as if that weren’t enough, those same murderers had kidnapped
me. What were they going to do to me? I was very close to passing out. Ross’s friendly face—at least I knew his name
now—was splattered with blood, and I found it hard to concentrate on anything but those shiny red specks of deadly
violence.
“Woman, do you hear me? Get up, we have to leave.” He pulled me up and steadied me when I tripped.
“No, sir! Leave me be!” I snapped at him while trying to break free.
I couldn’t allow these savages to take me any farther away from the memorial stone of the five sisters. I didn’t want
to spend another second in their presence. They were cold-blooded killers!
“Please, sir, let me go! What do you want from me?”
Meanwhile, the other two came closer.
“Sir?” one of them mimicked my pleading tone before bursting out laughing.
The other one, the one Ross had addressed as Dougal, smirked and sank to his knees in a grand theatrical gesture.
“Please, sir…” He chuckled, pulling me up by my hair. “This lass seems to think she is at court with the Sassenach
king. Just look at her hair! It’s like she brushes it every day just to make it shine,” he called out, and held up a
strand of my brown hair. Even Ross, who had been nothing but friendly since I woke up, gave an embarrassed grin.
I had no idea what was going on. Why were these creeps laughing at me? Had I said something wrong?
“Stop it!” Ross said, trying to calm his dark-haired companions. But those two enjoyed pushing me around.
“Yes, maybe we’re wrong, and this is in fact the queen of England!” Dougal suggested.
Doubling over with laughter and slapping his muscular thighs, the other brother—they were twins, for sure—joined in
the game. “You might be right, sir! Just look at her soft skin, and her teeth! Very royal.”
Ross pulled me away from them. He pushed me toward his horse, and even though I hadn’t wanted to come with him a moment
ago, he now seemed like my only option and savior.
“Leave her alone, Duncan! She was just trying to be friendly,” he defended me.
“If she wants to be friendly, all she has to do is spread her—”
“We need to get out of here already!” Ross cut off the much bigger man and lifted me onto the back of his horse. “Or
do you want to wait and see if the bandits decide to return with a few more of their peasant friends?”
After some hesitation, the twins each shrugged and turned to their own horses. They didn’t even waste another thought
on the peasants they had just killed.
“Ifrinn! I should never have opened that shed,” Ross said as he mounted his horse and sat down in the saddle behind
me.
For the next few miles, the men kept a watchful eye. We rode through a deep, dense forest, and I expected an attacker
behind every little branch.
Never in my life had I been so afraid. I didn’t know how to behave, or what dangers lay ahead of me now that I’d been
kidnapped and taken into the unknown. I felt sick to my stomach and was breaking out in a cold, shaking sweat. It was
hard to say which was the greater threat: traveling with these warriors or trying to make my way back to the memorial
stone of the five sisters on my own. At least Ross didn’t seem to pose any danger to me—not after he’d punched me
that first time, anyway. So I was glad for the support his chest gave me.
After riding for a good long while, the shock from the attack subsided, and I finally stopped trembling and dared to
rest my head against my Scottish handler.
“Better?” he asked with concern in his voice.
I simply nodded. I was afraid of saying the wrong thing again.
Ross had noticed that I kept stealing worried glances at the two men in front of us.
“Try to get used to it. They’re always like that.”
“What did I do to them?”
“Nothing. You don’t need to do anything to set them off. Maybe it’s because you are different from the other women we
usually meet. And then the way you were pretending to be all courtly and whatnot…maybe they thought you were trying to
make fun of them.”
I couldn’t believe it. I had been too polite? My parents would be so proud!
“I just wanted—”
“I know. Just stop with all the pretense and tell me your name. Otherwise, I might start to believe you are the queen
of England.”
I tried to figure out my safest bet. Should I tell him my real name, or should I make one up?
“Nothing? Should I call you ‘Cameron lass,’ then?”
I flinched. Cameron? They thought I was a Cameron? I shook my head. I remember Payton and his brothers being amazed at
my close resemblance to my ancestors, but I always thought they were exaggerating. Was it good or bad to be taken for a
Cameron? Was this the reason they had kidnapped me? Were these men mistaking me for someone else?
Because I didn’t give an answer, Ross stiffened behind me.
“All right, fine! You can go to hell for all I care. You’re nothing but trouble anyway.”
He spurred on his horse to catch up to the others. I imagined that the twin warriors probably wouldn’t appreciate our
conversation. So I came to a decision.
“My name is Samantha. Samantha Cameron.”
My heart beat wildly, and I was anxious to see if he would realize that I’d lied. The strange thing was, it didn’t
feel like a lie at all. And so I repeated it with more confidence—and also in order to convince myself, a little louder
this time.
“I am Samantha Cameron, and who are you, sir—uh, I mean, what’s your name?” I remembered that I had to stop with the
pretense, which I had taken to be the polite way of talking to people in this era. Ross was right. I mean, we were
riding through the Scottish Highlands all dusty and sweaty, and the men’s hands were covered in blood, and they were
unwashed and uncombed. Why should they worry about politeness? At least Ross didn’t seem to mind that I no longer
addressed him as “sir.”
“Ross Galbraith.” He pointed ahead of us. “And those two gentlemen in front of us are my brothers, Duncan and Dougal.
Twins, they are.”
I was glad that couldn’t see my surprise. His brothers? I had never seen siblings that showed so little resemblance. I
wanted to seize the moment to learn more, so I asked, “Why were you attacked?”
He shook with laughter behind me, then replied in an amused tone, “Why do you attack someone? Because we were there,
and they were there. Couldn’t you tell from their shabby clothes that they were peasants? They may as well have
attacked us with pitchforks. They weren’t even wearing their clan colors. Men like that toil for their laird all their
lives. They pay their tenth and at the end of the month don’t have enough left to feed their starving children. Winter
is coming, and those poor sods have nothing to bite on. Desperation drove them to attack us.”
“But if you knew that, then why would you kill them? Why didn’t you just scare them off?”
I was shocked at how indifferent this guy seemed to the fates of those poor peasant men and their families. How were the
women supposed to feed their children without the help of their husbands and sons?
“No, we couldn’t have. If we had shown them mercy, they would have run away, hidden in the woods, and ambushed us
somewhere else along the way. And next time they might be more successful. I’m surprised you don’t know this. In fact,
you seem to know very little about the ways of men. Didn’t your parents warn you? Or are all the women where you come
from like that?”
I didn’t want to think about my parents now—it was just too painful. Instead, I focused on the horse’s steady
movements. My back hurt from riding so long, and my butt was getting sore. “So, where are we going?” I asked.
“You don’t need to know that,” he said. He whistled for his dogs and quickly caught up to his brothers. That was his
way of letting me know that our talk was over. And for the rest of our long journey, he made it a point to ignore me.
I couldn’t say how many hours had passed, but my whole body ached and I was doubling over with hunger pangs. It was
almost dusk when we reached a clearing by the edge of the forest. Duncan stood up in his stirrups and scanned the vast
plains that lay before us.
The scene was amazingly beautiful. No picture postcard could ever convey a better sense of the Highlands than this
three-dimensional panorama. And despite my precarious situation, Scotland’s wilderness and rugged beauty took my breath
away. I drew strength and encouragement from the breathtaking view as Duncan motioned for his brothers to dismount. The
dogs scattered, trotting through the grass with their noses close to the ground and marking the saplings by the edge of
the woods.
My butt was completely numb by the time Ross lifted me off his horse.
“All right? Are you able to stand?” he asked, raising his eyebrows skeptically.
Dougal slapped him hard on the shoulder and doubled over with laughter.
“Ross, you’re an idiot. Why are you courting her? If you want her, then just take her already! But for God’s sake,
stop pretending you care about her well-being.”
Ross blushed to the roots of his hair and pushed out his chin as he glared at his much bigger brother.
“Shut up and leave the girl alone!” he defended me.
Dougal snorted and poked me in the shoulder. I inched closer to Ross, hoping for protection. The dark-haired giant
raised his hands defensively and gave me a contemptuous look. Ross glowered.
“Calm down, little boy, I’m not getting involved. But if you are so desperate that you would actually do her, then
maybe you should try to use your own hands. Did you not get a good look at her? Nothing about her body could please a
real man.”
I knew what Dougal was trying to do. He wanted to humiliate me—and humiliate Ross—to show us who was in charge. And
even though I was glad he didn’t find me the least bit attractive, I was hurt by his crude remarks.
“Dougal, I’m warning you.” Ross took a step forward and raised a fist.
Not a moment later, he went down with a moan, blood welling from his lip. His brother looked over him menacingly.
“I would think twice about your actions, lad. One more try and I will throw your bloodless carcass to the dogs. Now, go
and get some firewood!”
With that, he turned on his heel and kicked one of the dogs that was growling to defend its master. This made the dog
submit and crawl up to Ross with its tail between its legs.
I bent down and petted the dog’s head in empathy. Ross, on the other hand, refused my hand and got up without help.
Angrily, he ran his sleeve over his lip and spat in the grass. Then he reached into his sporran—that fur pouch attached
to the front of his belt—and fed a brown lump to his dog.
“What’s that?” I asked, so dizzyingly hungry that I was jealous of the dog.
“Dried pig’s ear. Come on, now. We’ll need what little daylight is left to gather firewood.” And he turned around
and disappeared into the fir trees.
I trotted after him, and we quickly found what we needed. A storm must have uprooted a tree some time ago. It was so dry
and sapless that Ross easily broke off a few branches for us to drag back to the clearing. With my bound hands and feet,
I wasn’t much help, but there was no negotiating with him when I asked him to untie me.
We got a good campfire going, and Dougal and Duncan returned with several freshly killed rabbits. After skinning and
gutting them, they hung them over the fire on sticks. My mouth watered as I took in the delicious smell of cooking meat.
But it remained to be seen whether I would get any of it. Right after his return, Duncan had grabbed me by the arm and
tied me up to a tree a few yards away. I noticed a long cut beside the sleeve of his shirt, and that it was covered in
dried blood. Had he been hurt during the attack? Despite my experiences in the past two days, the level of brutality
people routinely used with one another in this time period still seemed surreal.
So now, tied to a tree, I had to sit and watch the men gorge themselves on freshly grilled rabbit. I greedily watched a
drop of meat juice run along Duncan’s finger and fall to the ground. The steaming-hot rabbit leg looked juicy, and I
wished my teeth were tearing the tender meat off the bone. I swallowed hard. Duncan threw his clean-picked leg bone to
the dogs, and they of course voraciously pounced on it.
I reached a point where I would have fought even dogs for the leftovers. I was just about to ask for some food when
something stirred. The dogs pricked their ears and, yapping, tore into the forest that formed a protective barrier
behind our backs. The men got up, too, reaching for their weapons. But compared to this morning’s attack, they seemed
relaxed.
I panicked at seeing the horde of horsemen emerging from the woods. Their horses were just as magnificent as Duncan and
Dougal’s, and some of the men wore the colors I’d seen on Ross and his brothers. The men greeted one another with
booming laughter and shoulder slaps.
I tried to make myself invisible. Maybe this commotion would offer an opportunity for me to get at my sgian dhu and cut
through my ties. Then I could escape and return to Payton. I had memorized every rock formation, valley, and stream on
our path today—just so I could find my way back.
Suddenly I heard even louder and wilder cheers. Intrigued, I tried to catch sight of what all the fuss was about through
the campfire’s dancing flames.
The men had come closer. Over the back of one of their horses a big leather wineskin hung from one side. A large ham and
several loaves of bread in a string bag hung from the other. An expectant grin slowly spread across my face.
Meanwhile, everyone had dismounted and taken care of their horses, and they now approached the warm and cozy campfire.
The night promised to be cold, and I desperately hoped someone would offer me something to eat. The newcomers had joined
my captors by the fire and broken the bread into rough chunks to be passed around. Thick slices of cured ham also made
the rounds. The mood was cheerful, and the wineskin was emptied quickly.
Finally, Ross pulled out a simple, hand-carved flute from his saddlebags and struck up a song. After the first stanza,
he glanced at me over the fire, winking ever so slightly while continuing to play with happy enthusiasm. One of the new
guys noticed and turned to see who was on the receiving end of Ross’s wink.
Golden sparks from the embers burned up on their way into the night sky. And the smoke from the fire rose up high enough
to invite the stars to dance to Ross’s heart-wrenching music.
Our eyes met, and I let out a triumphant cry. I wanted to jump to my feet, but my ties kept me down. The rough rope
chafed against my skin as I tore at it. Even though I sat outside the circle of light, my face must have given away my
overwhelming joy at seeing the man rise and walk toward me.
With blood rushing through my veins, sweat trickling down my spine, and a sudden dryness in my mouth, I watched him
approach.