Page 34 of Torin and His Oath (Torin and the Princess #2)

TORIN

I was on Lambo’s back, we rode for another hour in the unrelenting rain.

It sheeted down my face, and rivulets ran down my cloak.

The rain turned the path intae a slick ribbon of mud and plastered my hair tae my face.

The other two horses followed in a weary line, their heads low, tails dripping.

My feet in my boots were wet, and I was miserable.

But with every step I grew more determined — I couldna stop now. I had tae continue on.

I was lulled intae a calm as we plodded down the wet road, the thick rain cut m’visibility, sound was muffled. “If I am judgin’ the day correctly, I would say we hae a half hour afore we come tae the main road tae Muckhart, Lambo. Will ye be relieved tae hae a stable?”

But then there was silence.

Twas that eery silence where yer heart drops and yer hackles raise. Ye ken tis almost too late. I shifted, drawin’ my dirk, my eyes sweepin’ the woods, when a boar burst from the gorse.

It was roarin’.

Twas a mountain of muscle and bristle, its tusks curved like daggers, its eyes red with rage. Lambo reared, nearly throwing me from the saddle. Dà screamed, sidestepping hard enough tae tangle the lead ropes with Trì.

I dropped from the saddle and leaped to stand between the monster and m’ horses. The ground was treacherous, my boots slid. The horses fought their leads, eyes rolling white.

The boar charged, head low.

I barely leapt aside in time, its tusk grazin’ my thigh with a hot slice that bled instantly. The beast wheeled, furious, snortin’ clouds of steam in the rain.

“Och nae, ye monstrous beast, ye arna goin’ tae kill me, I am just a few miles from home!” I raised my blade, chest heaving, every muscle screamin’ from fatigue.

The boar’s second charge nearly bowled me over, the weight of him plowin’ against m’hip, sending a lightning pain through my side, but givin’ me a place tae strike. I struck downward, slicing across the beast’s shoulder, but the knife was wee against its great mass.

The boar screamed, though, as if I had given it a mortal blow, and turned and crashed intae the trees, thrashing wildly. I staggered, clutchin’ m’thigh, kilt soaked in blood and water and mud, m’lungs burning.

Silence returned, except for the rain hammering the leaves.

I spat mud from m’mouth. The cut on m’ thigh burned, my hip throbbed, I ached in every inch of my body.

Och nae. I pulled the edge of my kilt up tae see the wound.

Twas not as bad as it might hae been. I wiped my blade on the wet grass, and dug through one of the saddlebags, finding a piece of woven fabric that I cut and tore intae a long strip and then tied it around my thigh tae stop the flow of blood.

I was drenched.

I looked at Lambo. He seemed tae shake his head at me, dolefully. “I ken, Lambo, I came close tae dyin’, but I dinna, I survived. The boar was an arse.”

I exhaled. “The road tae Muckhart is still ahead. We hae a few miles tae go.” I shoved my dirk back in its sheath, limped tae the woods, and relieved m’self.

Then I limped back tae the horses. “Twas frightenin’ for ye, Lambo?

” I ran my hand along his muzzle. “Steady, lad. Twas naught but a beast. I stabbed him well, he winna come around here again.”

Lambo leaned intae my touch. I took some long moments tae soothe with my words and smooth with my hands all three of the horses. I told myself twas for their peace, but I needed the time tae calm myself down, and grow ready tae continue on.

Finally I pulled myself into the saddle with a grunt.

The cloth tied around my thigh had grown pink with the mixin’ of blood and rain.

My strength was ebbing fast. I said tae Lambo, “I ken ye are skittish, but in an hour ye will hae a warm stable and all the hay in Muckhart. This is m’promise, ye just hae tae deliver me there. ”

I began tae ride, with Dà and Trì, plodding along behind us.