A small, slightly amused, smile tweaked one side of his lover’s moustache. “That sounds adequate.”
Hamish returned to the middle of the clearing. Already, Quinn had dragged a few of the more troublesome branches to one side. They’d likely use what they could from them for firewood, but a lot of the rubble was a crumbly mess.
Hamish glanced over at the horses as he helped the other guard. A few of the less-spooked mounts were tethered with both Sean and Gordon busy reassuring the rest. There was no sign of Zurron, but the elf was likely deliberately taking his time to calm the pony and cool him down. As long as he gets back before dark. Warrior still had one of the tents strapped to his saddle and Hamish didn’t fancy wrestling with it in the light of a campfire.
Zurron had returned by the time they had cleared a sizable patch for camp. The pony was sweating heavily and needed to be dried off, but he seemed to have more-or-less settled, calming further once amongst his fellow horses. A good thing, otherwise they would have no choice but to waste tomorrow returning the pony to the castle. And Mum will insist on several more guards.
With all the horses content to graze, their gear was stripped and tossed into a pile in the middle of the clearing. Gordon and Quinn wasted little time in pitching the tents, whilst Zurron vanished back into the undergrowth on his own two feet in search of more firewood.
Sean squatted before the campfire, feeding twigs and splinters of kindling into the flames. Soon, the man would set about preparing dinner. It wouldn’t be anything fancy, likely a light broth to soften the remainder of the stale bread, but it’d help keep them warm once the light faded and the spring chill encroached.
Nevertheless, Hamish’s stomach grumbled at the thought of food. He still had the last few pieces of cheese and a hunk of bread in his pack. It wouldn’t be enough to feed him but it would serve as a morsel to tide him over.
Dumping the last of the good wood near Sean, Hamish idly made his way to where Darshan still sat on the thick branch. The piece had clearly fallen from the rockbark tree encroaching on the clearing and, even though it would be a challenge, they had debated hacking it up for the fire before abandoning the idea. Whilst it appeared to be dry enough, the main section was covered in knots that could break the strongest of axes.
“So,” his lover said as Hamish settled on the branch. “Will all our nights be in such crude shelters?”
“For the most part. There’s a few farms along the way, we might be able to spend a night in their barns.”
Humming, Darshan propped his chin on the back of an upraised hand and watched as Quinn and Gordon pitched the second tent. “How terribly rustic.”
“I take it you’ve nae slept in anything beyond a bed.” He wouldn’t be surprised to find the man had never been beyond the confines of the imperial palace. It would help explain how the Udynean thought his thin, silvery-white sherwani was a good choice for travelling.
“Not since I was a child and it was more of a novelty even then.” A frown drew his dark brows even with the edge of his glasses. He twisted in his seat, his head still leaning against his hand. “I thought your people had inns? Or was I told wrong? Travel down any Udynean road long enough and you are bound to come across one before sunset.”
“On the main roads, aye, there are inns everywhere. If we kept travelling past Old Willie’s for a half-day, then we’d strike one at a wee village.” He had only been there the once whilst travelling with Nora on their way through to her husband’s lands further north. All he remembered was a view of the sun sinking over a steel-blue sea.
He couldn’t journey that far from the castle anymore. None of them were allowed such freedom, but he could show Darshan a sliver of that same beauty. Hamish eyed his lover. Whether that time was now or on the way back depended on how well the spellster had recuperated from his tree-lifting attempt. “You seem to be feeling better.”
Darshan inclined his head. “I am.”
“Come with me, then.” In one smooth movement, Hamish bounced upright and tugged Darshan to his feet. “Quick, before the light fades altogether.” He strode across the clearing before his lover could object, towing the man by an unresisting arm and halting once they reached the opposite tree line.
“And just where are you going?” his brother called out.
“We willnae be long.”
“Dinnae expect your tent to be ready and waiting when you get back.”
Hamish waved off the threat. As much as his brother blustered and nagged, Gordon wouldn’t leave him to wrangle with the canvas sheets on his own any more than he would allow Hamish to sleep out in the open all night.
They pushed through the undergrowth. It wasn’t thick, mercifully, but Darshan still clung to the lower half of his sherwani. Hamish paused every few feet to cut a fresh marker in the bark of each tree he past. Even though he was certain he knew the way back without such a trail, it was better to err on the cautious side.
The trees grew stunted the closer to their destination, eventually giving way to hardier bushes that they were forced to skirt or squeeze past. The crash of waves beckoned them on.
Darshan cut a path through the denser patches in the bush. How? Hamish wasn’t entirely sure, seeing just a flash of purple slice the air before the offending foliage fell only to be swept away by
