Bronwyn slid from the saddle and studied the hoof and waggon patterns. “Men, scout the edge of the trees to see if they headed into the forest.” He imagined the path his dad had taken to reach this point, the deliveries along the way and the possible stops to gather herbs. From his calculations, the bandits had a six-hour head start. Speaking to settlers living along the trail, he learnt no strangers had passed through on the way to Maskil today, at least none fitting the descriptions provided. The deep Shulie River lay to the west. It meant Keiron had headed north or east.
“Sergeant! Over here!” called out Junior Corporal Sawney Cronin. “I found a sign.”
Bronwyn and Farlan followed him to a small clearing behind a thick clump of evergreens where they spotted more than a dozen manure piles.
“Look here, Sir.” Sawney pointed to several trees with chafed bark. “It looks like they tied the reins of five horses.”
“Keiron has plenty of company.”
“And of various races.” Sawney drew him near, and they squatted to look at the hoof prints. “The horses wear shoes of similar size, but they leave imprints at different depths. See this.” He pointed to an imprint in the soft ground. “Now look at this one. It’s deeper, indicating a heavier rider. Perhaps a human weighing about 180 pounds. Or two could have ridden one horse. The first hoof print created less of an impression. The small rider weighed perhaps fifty to sixty pounds. Maybe the hauflin. The rest are mid-range. Maybe dwarfs or elves or small humans.”
Bronwyn studied the imprints, trying to absorb the knowledge his scout imparted. He didn’t have a lot of experience tracking in the forest. He spent most of his time guarding walls and buildings and chasing criminals within Maskil. Since becoming sergeant, he’d seen even less action on the streets.
Sawney picked up a round dropping from two different manure piles. “Watch this, Sarg.” With one in each hand, he squished them betwixt his thumb and fingers. One squished, but most of it remained intact. The other broke up in large clumps. “This one is fresher. The horse relieved himself shortly before they left the area. The other is about twelve hours old. This means they expected your dad to come this way and had waited for him.”
“So they arrived before dawn?”
Sawney nodded. “They didn’t build a fire. I say they lay back and waited.”
Bronwyn stood and looked around. His dad had a routine. He made five trips a week outside of Maskil, and on each day he travelled a specific route.
It seemed as if the bandits knew the approximate time his dad would pass this spot. But if Isla was the target, how did they know she’d be in the waggon? Had they watched for weeks looking for their chance? Or did they know on this particular day she’d travel with his dad? But how could they? Bronwyn didn’t know himself until yesterday. With Liam’s meeme gone, Alaura recovering at Beathas’ and Farlan supervising the wall, it left no other person to watch over Isla while he patrolled. Keiron couldn’t have known all this.
If Alaura had left Maskil when she had planned, his dad would have passed her, probably picked her up. Given her condition, he might have delivered her to Moon Meadow. It would have changed his plans. Maybe Isla would have stayed with Alaura, leaving his dad alone in the waggon.
He shook his head to clear his thoughts. This had to be coincidence. The guards hadn’t arrested Alaura to keep her from catching a ride with his dad and changing his travelling route. It’d mean the guards who arrested her had…Coincidence, nothing more.
Alaura’s image caressed Bronwyn’s thoughts. Did she safely arrive at Moon Meadow? He hoped she’d stay there tonight and into tomorrow. He wished he could send her a message. She’d want to know about Isla. She’d want to know about Finola and Liam, too. He’d tell her all about it as soon as he returned. Until then, he wished for her to remain at Moon Meadow. He sent his wish into the air as if it would be carried by fairies to her ear.
“Sergeant.” Private Hamish Elkin, an elf, stomped through the underbrush. “There’s a trail leading east. It’s well-trodden, but not very wide. Travelling will be single file.”
Bronwyn looked at the elf, 1 of 51. “Good work, Private. Mount up men. Let’s see where this trail leads.”