She clicked, and the mare proceeded forward. Synne’s heart raced with each step they took, and while her mind screamed for her to turn and run away, Synne didn’t stop the animal. Soon, the woodland swallowed them up.
The moment they were within the confines of the forest, it was like entering a different world. Birds chirped, and a squirrel hollered nearby. The trees helped to protect her from the snow, catching the flakes on their thick, leafless limbs as well as the many evergreens. Wind whistled softly through the branches, almost like a lullaby.
Synne directed the mare, following a path as far from the trees as she could get, but it was still closer than she was comfortable with. The need to touch the bark warred with her fear that the Gira were nearby and hiding.
If she were Sybbyl, she would leave the Gira in the forest to slow anyone approaching. Then again, no one really knew where Sybbyl was. That in itself was terrifying. Everyone assumed that since the leader of the Coven had taken out the abbey, that Sybbyl would then head to Blackglade to attack the Varroki.
It made the most sense, but Sybbyl hadn’t done things that made sense in the past, so Synne wasn’t sure what to think. She could be allowing her fear to control her for nothing. Which was most likely the case. But when it came to witches, no one could ever really be sure.
Synne stopped the mare once more. This time, her anger was directed at herself. She was a trained Hunter. She didn’t fear facing a witch, and she shouldn’t be afraid of the Gira either. Witches could do all sorts of magic. Who was to say that one couldn’t hide themselves like a nymph?
The last thing Synne should do was let fear sway her. She’d been in constant turmoil since she’d left the abbey. But the one thing that could help her was the very thing that surrounded her now—trees.
She eyed the foliage nearest her. None of the trunks looked as if a Gira were hiding there, nor did Synne hear any whispers. In fact, the forest appeared normal. Synne took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of pine and snow. Everything smelled…clean. Nothing seemed amiss.
Synne lowered her gaze to the mare. The horse was calm, seemingly not picking up on anything she’d missed. She nudged the mare forward once more and continued through the forest. Her gaze moved from side to side, searching for Gira, witches, or anything else that could be a threat.
When she could take no more, she reached out and touched a tree as she passed. Her gloved hand lingered for just a moment, but even that small contact bolstered her. Yet it wasn’t enough. She removed her glove before she reached out to the next tree. When the rough, cold bark slid against her palm, she closed her eyes and sighed contentedly.
No one, not even Edra, knew why Synne needed to lay hands on the trees. Edra had found Synne in a forest, at least that’s what the witch had told Synne. She had no memory of that time—or before that. Which was probably for the best.
The woods around her grew denser, the tall pines stretching high to the sky, their limbs extending out like fingers. She looked up, but the hood of her cloak prevented her from seeing directly above her.
With the mare weaving through the trees, Synne grew more and more relaxed. Never again would she allow fear to govern her. The fact that she had mastered her emotions proved that she needed the woods. She didn’t want to think what would’ve happened had she continued to let her fear rule her.
Synne traveled for a while before she stopped the mare near a huge oak. She slid from the horse and dropped the reins. Synne wasn’t worried about the mare bolting. The horse was too well trained for that. Synne lowered the hood of her cloak and took off her other glove as she approached the tree. Once she stood before it, she placed both hands on its bark and closed her eyes.
“I’ve missed you,” she whispered.
While she didn’t hear words from the trees, she did feel things. Right now, the oak was telling her hello. She smiled and pressed her cheek to the trunk as she spread her arms, giving the giant tree a hug.
“You will let me know if something is amiss, right?” she asked softly.
In response, the tree creaked as its limbs moved when a breeze slid around her. Synne’s eyes snapped open. Thanks to the oak, she knew in an instant that she wasn’t alone. The tree didn’t tell her it was something dangerous, but Synne was on guard, nonetheless.
She straightened and dropped her arms as her head snapped to the left. Her gaze met that of a man sitting astride a white horse. The male’s long, black hair hung loosely about his shoulders, and his eyes bored into hers. Even with the beard, she could see the sharp line of his jaw. He sat on his mount like one who had been born to ride.
The hilt of a sword could be seen over his shoulder. He likely had other weapons, as well, because he was, without a doubt, a warrior.
Whether Synne killed him or not depended on what side he was on.
2
He’d never seen a woman like her before. Lachlan wasn’t sure what to think. She touched the trees as she passed them, and the action confused him. But it wasn’t until she embraced the oak that he saw her lips move, almost as if she were talking to it.
His grandmother had once mentioned those who had a deep connection to nature, but he had believed it was the ramblings of her confused mind. Now, he wondered if she had been telling him the truth.
Lachlan had spotted the woman riding toward the woods. It was obvious that she was hesitant to enter the forest, but she hadn’t let that stop her. At first, he’d thought it was because she might have suspected that he was within. While her cloak hid her face, her narrow shoulders and slight frame instantly marked her as female. He’d been so intent on watching her that he hadn’t immediately noticed the bow she carried until she dismounted, but his attention had quickly shifted to the weapon.
And now, it was focused on the way she stared at him. There was no fear in her amber eyes. Instead, he gazed into the face of one who had faced death. Someone who had delivered death.
He was intrigued by this woman. She was unlike any he’d seen before, and while a part of him rebelled against it, another part was unable to look away. It was that interest that urged him to go to her, to discover her name and learn who she was.
Lachlan had wielded a sword before he could even lift it properly. His father and two uncles had trained him to fight for the clan, and he did it not just because it was expected, but because he knew it was what he was meant to do.
Because of his training, he recognized the difference between someone who carried a weapon for show, and those who knew how to use them. This woman was the latter. His sister had begged him to show her how to use a bow, but his father had refused. Lachlan didn’t dare go against his sire. Yet someone in this female’s life had taken the time to train her.
Lachlan tightened his fingers on the reins of his mount. He gave a slight tap with his heel, and the gelding moved forward. Lachlan didn’t take his eyes from the woman, nor she from him. She didn’t move, but he had the sense that she was prepared for an attack from any angle.
Damn intriguing.
The closer he got to her, the more he was able to take her in. At first, he’d believed her blond hair was cut short, but he now saw that it was held back from her face by several rows of braids hidden by the hood of her cloak. He wondered how long it was and had the desire to push the hood back to get a better look at it.