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Douglas had been fairly successful on his expedition and returned with two medium-sized trout. Using his knife, he cleaned and split them open. He had sharpened a couple of thin sticks and now wove them through the flesh of the fish. He set the two fish together, skin side facing a log that was set to one side of the fire. Anne had plucked some sprigs of wild rosemary and draped them over the meat side of the fish.
Seeing green mush on a piece of bark that Anne had worked on earlier, Duncan said, “I’m not eating that,” and wrinkled his nose at the odor.
“Good. It’s for Enos’s wound. Should you eat it, well, let’s say it would be very difficult to stay atop your horse tomorrow.”
At Duncan’s wide eyes, Anne laughed. He loved the throaty sound. It was a rare time when all her defenses
