Highland Secrets (Cree & Dawn)

“Are you telling me that my scent makes you feel better?” he asked, though had his answer since a faint dab of color had returned to her cheeks.

Her smile widened as she nodded, then she pointed to the ground again.

“Persistent to see what is there?”

Dawn nodded again and eased herself away from him to show she was steady on her feet once again.

“Keep your eyes off the ground,” Cree ordered and when she turned her head to the side, he stooped down to see what it was that had caught her attention.

It took a moment for him to spot what she had seen. He looked around and grabbed a rock partially buried in the snow and used it to move the carved, bloody stick the size of his middle finger out of the pool of blood. He pushed it around in the snow until it was mostly clean of the blood, then dumped a handful of snow on it to clean it some more before he picked it up.

“Is this what you spotted?” Cree asked, holding it out to her after he stood.

Dawn turned and nodded, eagerly taking the stick from him.

Cree stood close to his wife as they examined the stick together. “There is a symbol carved in it. Is that what you spotted?”

Dawn nodded, tapped the symbol and shrugged.

“I am not familiar with it,” he said, understanding that she asked if he had knowledge of the symbol.

Dawn turned her head, searching the area and when she spotted Henry, she pointed to him.

“You’re right, Henry, might know,” Cree said and called out to his tracker.

Henry hurried over to the couple.

Dawn held the stick out to Henry as Cree said, “Are you familiar with this symbol?”

Henry’s brow shot up. “It is a runic symbol, my lord, and the stick is from a blackthorn tree.”

“What does it signify?” Cree asked.

“There are two thoughts to that, my lord. A blackthorn branch is considered evil by some believing it has the power of death.”

“That’s right,” Cree said. “It was many years ago, but I recall an old warrior who had joined with my group of mercenaries and fought only with a spear made from a blackthorn branch. He swore it brought death to any who felt its jab. I thought him crazy, but he survived every battle and died one night in his sleep.” Cree paused a moment, his brow scrunching. “He did warn something about the blackthorn, but I cannot recall what it was.”

“That is the other thought, my lord,” Henry said and lowered his voice as if worried someone might hear. “Witches believe it offers protection, more so, when the runic symbol for thorn is carved into the branch or staff. The old warrior knew his spear had no power against a witch.”

Dawn pointed to the stick, then to the bloody ground and shrugged.

Cree was quick to interpret. “My wife wants to know what it means for it to be found here with the dead man, and so do I.”

Henry shook his head, perplexed. “With the thorn symbol carved in it, I would think it belongs to a witch. She may have dropped it here by accident since I see no reason for a witch to leave a protective amulet here on purpose.”

“Still though, we cannot be certain a witch had anything at all to do with this,” Cree said and saw that Henry was hesitant to respond. “Say what you will, Henry.”

“I know not if it is true, but I have heard that a cloaked figure has been spotted in the woods holding a beating heart in its hand.”

Dawn shivered, recalling her husband telling her the same. Could it be true? Did a demon haunt these woods searching for hearts and did a witch help him?

“Do not track in these woods alone, Henry,” Cree ordered. “I will order our warriors to have at least four of them go with you, until then you are not to track. You will return to the keep with the men.”

“Aye, my lord,” Henry agreed, appearing relieved at Cree’s command.

Everyone looked relieved when Cree issued orders that they would all take their leave together. No one was to be left on their own.

Newlin nodded in agreement, as relieved as the others, and hurried the men along.

“Feel any better?” Cree asked, as they waited for all to finish.

She nodded, smiled softly, patted her stomach, and gestured shoveling food into her mouth.

“You are hungry,” he said, relieved to hear it, a certain sign she felt better.

Dawn nodded and looked around impatiently. There was a strange quietness to the woods. It was beyond the usual stillness that winter brought when the forest was at rest. It was heavy and somewhat ominous. Even the beauty she had often found in a forest dressed in its winter finery could not be found today. The bare, hanging branches appeared more like long limbs ready to snatch one up. She shivered and grew annoyed that she allowed the scene to disturb her.