The messenger had been certain that he would be safe. It was yet evening, the sun barely set. He would be through Kinfairlie forest before it was truly dark, well on his way to Newcastle. The brigands had been routed and this would be the safest time to make his passage.
The laird spoke aright, and the laird’s message must be delivered.
All the same, the messenger spurred his horse to great speed on the road that wound through Kinfairlie forest. It was only his memories that haunted him, he reminded himself, and the bandits had not injured him. They had frightened him, no more than that.
He still would be glad to leave the forest behind him.
It was strange how dark it was within the forest, for the trees were bare of leaves and the sky should have been bright overhead. The messenger fe
