God help them, if the English overlords ever learned her village had given shelter to Bruce's men who'd survived a massacre a few weeks ago at Loyc Ryan. Cate had warned her mother- to whom deferred not to do it ,but Helen of lochmaben would not not be dissuaded. It was their duty, she'd said; even dispossessed, the outlaw king was their lord.
Cate was halfway back to the village when she heard the first scream. Her heart leapt in panic and she shot forward through the trees and brush ,heedless of the branches scratching her cheeks or the stones digging into her bare feet. While fishing she'd tied the skirts of her kirtle around her waist ,revealing the more comfortable breeches she sometimes hid underneath so as to not upset her mother.
The first cottage on the edge of the village came into view; it belonged to her friend Claire . She opened her mouth to shout for her ,but the scream died in her throat. Carissa stopped dead in her tracks and felt her stomach turn and then heave Claire mother lay on the ground with blood still flowing from the bright red gash across her neck Claire lay across her pinned to her mother where she'd fallen with a pike through her back