Kaetha put her hand on hers. “I’m sorry.”
The woman was silent for some moments. “You’ve been marked too,” she said. “You’d better get out of this place – now.”
“I’m sorry,” she repeated.
“Go, lass. And you’d better close this or someone will try to find out who’s been talking to us.”
With a heavy heart, she pulled the shutter across the window, forcing the prisoners into total darkness once more.
Kaetha lay beside Donnan. Tam sat outside in the rain, his wolf eyes glinting in the night. Hours trudged by like a walk through a bog and Kaetha listened to the rain, trying to keep the thoughts away that threatened to turn into nightmares. Once she heard Mairi’s heavy breathing, she crept from the shelter, holding a finger to her lips as Tam looked up at her.
“What are you doing?” whispered Donnan, staggering out after her.
“Tam,” said Kaetha. “Keep guard here. I’ll be back soon.”
Tam lay down, keeping his head up and ears pricked.
“Answer me, Kaetha.”
She tucked a knife into her belt. “There are some people in the village I need to help.”
“Are you putting yourself in danger?”
She didn’t answer.
“Are you sure it’s worth it, Kit?”
“They’re good people, Donnan. If I don’t help them, they’ll be taken to Creagairde and tried for witchcraft. They’ll die. All of them. Aye, it’s worth me going.”
“Right. Let’s go then.”
“No. You’re not well enough.”
“I’m better than I was. The fever’s gone now. I can be lookout at least.”
She paused, thinking. “You must turn back if you start to feel unwell again.” She passed him a knife. “I’d be better off alone than having to carry you back.” She knew the harshness of her words but she had to be clear. People’s lives were at stake.
He nodded. “I understand, Kit.”
She got Donnan to wait at the side of a cottage where he had both a view of the central street of the village and the tiny hut where the prisoners were being held.
“And if I see someone coming?” he asked.
“Make a bird call or something.”
“The only one I can do is a seagull. And I don’t reckon they have many of them around here. Particularly not nocturnal ones.”
“A seagull will just have to do.” And with that, she left him and ran to the hut. She slid back the shutter. “Hello?” The silence clutched at her heart as the idea came to her that they’d already been taken to Creagairde. She leant her head against the wooden bars and sighed in disappointment.
“Who is it?”
Kaetha gasped. Thank Heaven you’re still here. It’s me. I’m going to get you out. Keep away from the door.”
“Careful, lass.”
She could already feel the heat pulsing through her, the magic waiting to be freed. With her hands hovering before the door, she focused her energy. Power stretched through her, trembling into her hands. Then she smelt smoke. It seemed to be working. But her splints and bandages had caught alight, not the door. She gasped, only just stopping herself from crying out, shaking her injured hand, pulling at the splint and bandages, flinging them to the ground.
“What’s happening?” came the young boy’s voice.
“Shh,” said one of the women.
“It’s alright,” said Kaetha, blowing cool air over her raw fingers. Thinking about what had happened with the splints and bandages, she realised she could control exactly where the fire took hold. Rather than blasting the door as she’d planned to do, she could target the lock, then push open the door, minimising the risk the fire would pose to the prisoners. She just had to touch where she wanted to burn. I’ve burned this hand anyway, she thought, a moment longer in fire shouldn’t make much difference. Feeling the scratchy surface of the door with her good hand, her fingers caught against the keyhole and the edge of the door.
She winced as the tender flesh of her palm pressed against the keyhole and across to the doorframe. Then a fury of heat broke free, burning fast. She gasped, pain screaming through her skin, but rather than drawing her hand away, she pushed it forward. The wood gave way, flames just visible around her hand but, as she’d hoped, not spreading, just eating away at the wood she touched. In seconds, her hand met the air on the other side. It was over. The hole in the shed glowed in the shape of her hand.
The door eased open but, at the same moment, there was a strange sound, like a strangled cry of a seal. Not a seal. A seagull.
“Wait,” she said. “Go back until I say it’s safe.”
She could hear the rustling of someone walking through the long grass between the forest and the village. It was lucky that Donnan had spotted them. Crouching, she edged around the corner, out of sight of the stranger. In time, the sound of walking faded. Had they gone? Slow as a snail, she peered around her. The drifting clouds let through just enough moonlight for her to glimpse a figure coming towards her. She hid again, reaching for the knife at her belt.
“Kaetha?”
She sighed as Donnan appeared.
“I saw a cloaked man. He seemed to disappear but I don’t know where he is. We need to go. Now.”
“Right.”
Donnan sniffed the air, then coughed. Prepared as she was for the foul smell inside the hut, it hadn’t particularly bothered her.
“It’s alright,” she said, stepping past him into the hut. “We’re going to take you
