Page 58 of The Chief's Wild Promise
“We can’t outrun them,” Rae pointed out, his tone grim.
“We don’t need to,” her father replied. “The alarm would have been raised in Meggernie when we didn’t return. They’ll be hunting for us.” He paused then, his gaze glinting in the moonlight. “I have some of the best trackers in Perthshire in my Guard … they’ll find us.”
24: ÀRD-CHOILLE
THE HOUNDS STARTED baying a short while after they left Finlarig Castle.
They’d expected it. Even so, the sound made Makenna’s pulse lurch. Black Duncan was hunting them now, and he’d be out for blood.
Meanwhile, the seven of them ran along the loch shore, setting a steady pace.
Some, like Bran, Alec, and Rae, ran easily, their long legs eating up the ground. But her father had started to wheeze now. He was bigger and older than the other men, and after a short while started to fall behind.
He’d spoken true earlier. The MacGregors of Meggernie were known for their expert tracking and hunting skills. Yet would their people dare camp this close to Finlarig? Would they find them in the dark?
Initially, Makenna tried to keep pace with Bran, although it wasn’t long before her legs and lungs started to protest.She dropped back next to her father. “Black Duncan is injured,” she panted. “He was bleeding badly when we left.”
“Aye, lass,” he gasped. “I made sure to stick him good and proper!”
Under other circumstances, she might have grinned at this news. But knowing that they’d lost Lloyd, and that they were leaving his corpse behind at Finlarig, made it difficult to celebrate. They weren’t out of danger yet, but now that they’d gotten out of the castle, grief hammered into her again. It was hard to think about anything else. It was hard to even breathe.
“I hope he bleeds to death,” she ground out.
“With any luck, he will, lass,” her father answered, his breathing labored.
The baying of the hounds intruded once more. Nearer now. The thunder of hoofbeats, approaching from the west, and the shouts of men, echoed across the still loch.
Makenna’s already racing heart leaped at the noise.
“Cods!” her father cursed. “Where are the others?”
“There’s a light up to the east,” Rae shouted from ahead.
“A campfire, I’d say,” Bran added, his voice rough from exertion.
Makenna’s heart leaped. “It’s them!” And just as well too, for sweat slicked her body, and her chest was burning. She wasn’t used to running this far or fast.
“MacGregor!” Her father roared. Despite that he’d been winded just moments earlier, hope made him rally. His voice carried far into the night. He then followed with, “Àrd-Choille!”
High Wood!The MacGregor war cry.
Moments passed and then shouts echoed back at them from farther up the shore. “‘S Rioghal mo dhream!”
Makenna’s breathing caught, her skin prickling now at the sound of the MacGregor motto. It was the response they’d been waiting for—a way of telling friend from foe, for the enemy would have likely just shouted back‘Àrd-Choille’. Tears of relief welled in her eyes.
“Thank Christ,” Mungo rasped from just ahead. “I can’t run much farther.”
“Keep moving!” Rae grunted. “Or one of those beastly hounds will take a bite out of yer arse.”
That spurred all of them on and gave them the final burst of speed they needed to reach the MacGregor search party.
Relief crashed over Makenna at the sight of the warriors rushing toward them, dirks drawn.
“MacGregor!” One of the warriors called out, spying his clan-chief. It was Blair, Walker’s second-in-command. Peering at the approaching men, she recognized her brothers-by-marriage: Connor MacFarlane and Rory Lamont.
“They’re right behind us,” her father shouted.
Reaching the MacGregors, they skidded to a halt.