A Warrior’s Heart by Misty M. Beller
24
Despite the burning in Brielle’s feet, she was able to take long strides in the snow. Though what drifted down now was light and fluffy, the cold in the night had hardened much of what fell the day before to an icy crust. Thank the Lord for that blessing at least.
She passed a few single trees, and finally a mountain came into view. The shape of the rocky sides looked familiar, but she strained to place its location in her mind. She studied the cluster of cedars at its base for a few more steps before awareness finally dawned.
Those trees. Those were the very first cedars she’d inspected after leaving Laurent’s gate. That peak sat directly opposite the mountain she and her people lived in. She was seeing it from an angle she rarely approached, which was why nothing looked familiar.
She turned and retraced her footprints, already so full of new snow they were mere indentations. When she reached the nook in the mountainside, she bent low to step in, then dropped to her knees beside Marcellus. She pulled back the fur to expose his face to the cold, then shook his shoulder.
His heavy breathing shuddered as his eyes blinked open. His gaze found her face, but his expression held nothing of recognition or awareness. Maybe his mind was as numb as hers had been when she first awoke.
She tugged her fur muff down so she could speak clearly. “Marcellus, it’s me, Brielle. We’re not far from home. Can you get up and walk?”
He stared at her for several heartbeats, then looked down at the fur covering him as though trying to determine what it was.
She pulled the coat back to let the cold awaken him fully. Then she grabbed his upper arm. “Come. Let’s sit you up and put your coat on.”
He did as she asked, although he began shivering before they got his second arm in its sleeve. She pulled the fur close around his neck and fastened the straps. “We need to hurry. There’ll be a warm fire and good food when we get there.”
Maybe she should have left Marcellus and gone on to the village to bring back help. If he wasn’t able to walk, she could still do that. But they were so close . . .
She gave Marcellus the last pastry. But when he sat there eating so slowly, she finally tugged on his arm again. “Stand up and see if you can walk while you eat.”
It took several tries, but they finally got him standing. His feet must be either numbed or as painful as hers, for they didn’t hold him at first.
She grabbed her bow, quiver, and satchel. “Put your hand on my shoulder to balance while you walk.”
He obeyed, then took a step forward at the same time she did. He grunted. “Feet hurt.”
“Mine do, too, but we don’t have far to go. Let’s see if we can make it.”
The first dozen steps were slow and painful. Physically painful for Marcellus, and emotionally painful for her. Every part of her wanted to get back to Laurent. The entire village was likely worried about them. They may have even sent someone out this morning after the storm eased.
It seemed to take an hour before she could see the mountain she’d viewed earlier. Marcellus was moving a little faster, but the one time he’d removed his hand from her shoulder, he’d slowed to the speed of a crawl. She gripped his upper arm to keep him moving, and he obediently increased his pace.
“Just a few more minutes and we should be able to see our mountain.” Maybe if she kept up a running conversation, his spirits would rise. She’d never seen Marcellus so quiet, not even when his father had been shot by the Englishmen and lost his ability to walk.
Marcellus communicated his emotions through speech. Yet now, he seemed to be locking them in. She would have to worry about that later. For now, she only had the strength for a single focus—getting them both home safely.
“They’re back!” Andre’s words came even before his face peered through the doorway.
Evan surged toward him. “Brielle found Marcellus? They’re both here? Are they hurt?”
Brielle’s brother flashed a wide smile. “They both walked in not five minutes ago. I came to tell you first thing, but I’m going back now to see to them again.”
Evan reached for the door to pull it open wider. “I’m coming with you.” He glanced back at Leonard, who’d stepped up behind him.
With a grin flashing across his face, the man nodded. “Just stay beside me.”
Joy flooded through Evan as he jogged behind Andre. If only his legs were longer so they could move faster. But he had to follow, for the lad was the only one who knew where Brielle was.
Andre stopped at a door partway down the corridor, the same one he and Charlotte had been coming from on the way to the feast. Had that only been two days before? It seemed two years.
They all slowed to enter, and Evan’s gaze honed on the cluster of people around the hearth on the left side of the room.
Finally, he found the profile he was looking for.
She was barely visible with the fur blanket covering her head and body, but the strong, beautiful lines of her face peeked out, shimmering in the dancing glow of the fire.
He’d covered half the distance between them when she turned to look his way. Maybe someone had mentioned him, or maybe she merely felt the change in the air he always did when she entered the room.
Her eyes were round, more so than usual, and drew him in like they always did. He dropped to his knees by her side and she scooted a little to face him. Maybe he shouldn’t appear as if he cared so much, but he was powerless to restrain his need to know how she fared.
He touched the fur that covered her arm and studied her eyes for signs of pain or damage. Red tinted the whites of her eyes, but her gaze looked blessedly whole. And the joy that glimmered there sparked the same emotion in his own chest.
She was alive. Not just alive, but well.
He let his focus roam her face, then scan the length of her. But there was nothing to see except the fur covering.
He moved his gaze back to her face. “Are you well? Hurt anywhere?”
She shook her head. “God provided a safe place for us to weather the storm.”
He couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face. “Indeed.” God had certainly provided.
She shifted her focus to the others around her, but still spoke to him. “Have you met everyone? You know Audrey and my sister and my father. This is Uncle Carter.”
Evan gave a friendly nod to the man who possessed the same strong chin and cheekbones as Brielle.
Carter Maurier had already been scrutinizing him, if his narrowed gaze was a sign. The man offered a responding nod, but his mouth didn’t curve into a smile. Any man who sought to court Brielle would likely have to prove himself to the whole family, and Evan would have much to make up for in order to overcome his current status as a stranger and prisoner. He would do his best, though.
Brielle was still making introductions, so he shifted his focus to each as she pointed and offered names. Jeanette was sitting beside Marcellus, her arm wrapped around her son as he sat beneath a heavy fur. The young man didn’t seem quite as cheerful as the last time Evan had talked with him, but he still offered Evan a toothy smile that was impossible not to return.
After Brielle finished announcing names, silence fell over the group.
Her father broke it shortly. “Tell us what happened, Brielle.”
Evan stayed at her side as she told an incredible story. He’d known the storm was bad, but he’d not realized how strong the wind was, nor how little she’d been able to see. Only God could have led her to that mountain and helped her find the very nook where Marcellus was hiding.
A few times during the telling, she urged Marcellus to add a comment. But the fellow seemed content to listen and soak in the attention—and the warmth.
When she finished, Evan had to ask once more, “Are you injured anywhere? Perhaps from frostbite?” He slid his gaze from her to Marcellus, then back.
Brielle looked at Audrey, as if for confirmation. “I don’t think so.”
Audrey offered a shaky grin. “I can’t believe it myself, but I don’t see signs of permanent damage to fingers or toes.”
Evan let his eyes close for a heartbeat while he sent up a prayer of thanks. As God promised in the verse from James, He had used those fervent prayers to avail much in this situation.
“Marcellus.” Chief Durand leaned forward slightly as he spoke to the lad. “Can you tell us why you went out?”
Marcellus’s eyes widened, and his gaze flitted from face to face. He seemed to shrink back from them all, and his mouth parted, then hung there. His mother wrapped her arm tighter around him and sent the chief a look full of worry.
Chief Durand eased back. “It’s all right, son. We can talk later when you’ve warmed up and feel more like yourself. You’ve been through a hard time, and we’re so glad to have you back safely.”
Marcellus’s wide eyes eased, but a bit of fear still showed there.
Maybe a change of subject would help. Evan shifted his gaze to Brielle’s father. “What of the other two who went out the second time?”
The man gave a solemn nod. “They told us where they planned to look, so two men have gone to bring them back. The storm is mostly over, so we don’t fear for their safety.”
Evan let his relief show. “Good.” But he would add the additional pair to his prayer list until all were safely within the walls of Laurent.
He could understand even more now why these people were so protective of their little community. Their walls were a source of safety. Of protection.
Not just against strangers, but against being lost and frozen in the elements. And being hurt by wild animals. And probably a host of other deadly possibilities. Staying within these walls meant safety. In this land that was more treacherous than any he’d seen, these people had survived, and even thrived, because of the walls.
Would they ever open themselves to correspondence and trade with the rest of the world? For that matter, would they open themselves to an outsider—him—moving in and becoming one of their own . . . maybe married to Brielle? Both remained to be seen.
Another silence settled over the group, and Evan began to receive more than one questioning stare. It was probably time he returned to his cell before they felt the need to force him to. Brielle was safe, and he had some prayers of thanksgiving to send up. Then a nap might be in his near future.
But as he prepared to walk back with Leonard, he leaned close to Brielle once more and kept his voice low. “When you’re well enough, I need to speak with you.”
Her gaze jerked to his and she studied him, probably wondering what he wanted to discuss.
Alone. He tried to speak that last word with his eyes.
She seemed to understand, for she nodded. “I’ll come to check on things soon.”
He gave her a smile, but not so big as to draw the attention of the others. “Rest first. Sleep and eat and stay warm. I’ll be waiting when you’re ready.” If the shadows under her eyes were any indication, she hadn’t slept much in that time under the cleft of the rock.
Though her mouth didn’t speak, her eyes gave him a smile that warmed him all the way down. This woman nurtured his soul, and he had a feeling without her in his life, there would always be a missing piece.