THIRTY-ONE
The first thing Grieve became aware of was something cold and wet touching his forehead. Not cold enough to numb the pain, though.
He reached for his sword, but the scabbard was empty. They must have stolen it from him, along with everything else. And Rhona.
Grieve sat up, and saw the most beautiful sight he could have imagined. Rhona's startled face as the wet cloth dangled from her hand, forgotten.
"Are you all right? Did the Albans...did they hurt you?" he asked. He prayed that the leader's promise could be trusted. Who knew with Albans?
"Someone hit me over the back of the head. But nothing else," she said. "You have a bump on your head, too – much worse than mine. Do you know where we are?"
Grieve looked around. "A cave? They didn't say where they were taking us. S
