Dinna

Dinna

Glancing down showed him only the top of her wimple covered head
and Iain cast his glance off toward the cave opening. ’Twas dark yet, the
blackness gone with the departing night, chased by the morning gray. He
listened but heard no howling wind and decided the storm must have moved on and away or withered to nothing.
“Seems we might get about early.”
Iain shifted his gaze, over that of the lass, and found Duncan awake as
well. The old man was on his back, his head tilted toward Iain, his gaze
beyond, to the mouth of the cave.
“Aye, and home before dark tomorrow, God willing.”
“What’s to be done with the lass?” Duncan wondered, settling his eye
onto her fur clad form between them, employing naught but a whisper.
“I’m no’ sure. She asked for some direction, but it seems a perilous
thing, to send a lass off on her own.” He knew she wasn’t awake, that she
couldn’t hear them speaking about her as if she did not lie immediately
between them. The hand he’d kept on her hip detected no movement at all, no stiffening of her body to indicate she’d woken and now eavesdropped on their conversation.
“Aye,” Duncan agreed. “Lass got a name?”
Iain shrugged. “I dinna ask.”
Duncan’s bushy gray brows scrunched down over his dark eyes. “You
were chatty enough though, talked for quite some time. Dinna occur to you to wonder ‘bout her name?”
“Her lies cast but a dim light on the trifling matter of her name.”
“Her lies?”
“Aye,” said Iain, “the lass’d have me believe she was on her way to a
convent when struck the storm.”
Duncan scowled with his own disbelief. “Going to tuck that face away
in a convent?”
“She says aye.”
Duncan nodded briefly and voiced his ideas for the day ahead. “We’ll
see how the snows have fallen. If they stayed up here in the hills, we’ll
make good time once we get down. If the entire area is blanketed, will be a
slow go.”
“But go we will.”
“Aye, we’ll get back home and dinna we ache for it? But we can no’
rest for too long, no’ until he’s rooted out and destroyed.”