*Rory*
Bodies lie scattered across the bloodied hillside, and blood pools in the valley below. The earth is dark red now, soaked in a mess of mud and iron. Some still groan where they’ve fallen, clutching wounds, teeth clenched in agony. Others are somewhere beyond sound. Dead eyes stare at the sky.
My hands are stained scarlet and my arms ache. I don’t even remember how many men I killed. I only know she’s still out there—Cait—and I haven’t found her yet.
“Rory!”
The shout slices through the smoke.
It’s Duncan.
I spin and run.
He’s maybe twenty yards off, backed against a half-burnt cart, his sword locked against a huge man with wild hair—an enemy chieftain, judging by the cloak he wears and the way others steer clear. Duncan’s blade slips. The chieftain drives his own sword forwa
