Bronwyn pulled the map from his pouch. While Alaura guided Clover onto the narrow trail following the river, he marked their route with a pencil. After studying it for a few minutes, he prepared to make a guess at their destination.
“See this dot?” He held the map in front of her.
“The square dot?” She raised a quizzical eyebrow.
“I think it’s where Keiron is headed.”
“Where is it?”
“The map doesn’t say, but the person who marked it obviously sensed its significance. It’s about a three-day journey.” He sighed in frustration. “The only other course is to cross the river here and head into the mountains towards Glen Tosh. It’s the long way to the city. Staying on the Lower Branch would be easier.”
She rested her hand on his knee. “Don’t over think things. Keiron is only a man. He’s wily, but I’ve watched him, he acts on impulse. He has a burning anger which clouds his thinking.” She looked back at him. “He’s an ugly cuss, soiled by meanness.”
He chuckled. “Uglier than a troglodyte.” He folded the map and wrapped his arms around her.
“You could say that.” The terrain became rough, forcing Alaura to hold the reins with both hands. She guided Clover around a boulder and looked down at the river cutting through the earth ten feet below. “Keep hold. I don’t want to lose you,” she warned Bronwyn.
“You won’t lose me.” When Clover lurched forward, stepping to higher ground, he held onto the pommel for security, but left one hand on Alaura to help her balance.
An hour later, she halted Clover. “She’s getting weary. Let’s walk a bit.”
Bronwyn dismounted and turned to catch her. “I’ll lead.” He patted the mare on the neck and walked in front of it. Looking down at the gully, he guessed the drop to be about two hundred feet. The river, dark in the shadow of the cliff, raced towards the base of the mountain. He glanced back at Alaura. She held Clover’s bridle to safely guide the animal along the trail. The two were quite a pair. He couldn’t image her with any other pony. She caught him watching and smiled. It was a knowing smile, the kind triggered by warm feelings betwixt two people who have shared more than the average friendship. He winked and turned his attention to the path in front of him.
A few minutes later, he halted and picked up a piece of paper caught in a bush. He unfolded it. “Page twenty-three.” He handed it to her.
“At least we know she’s still well enough to leave clues.” She wrapped her arm around his waist and snuggled into his side. “We must be close.”
Clover nudged Alaura in the shoulder blade and snorted.
“What is it, girl?” She rubbed the animal’s chin.
The pony pranced and threw its head back, making its flaxen mane dance. With its nostrils flaring and ears upright, it twisted in one direction then the other.
Bronwyn scanned the area. “Do you think an animal is spooking her?”
Clover snatched the page from Alaura’s hand, startling her. “Is it Isla?” She stared at the pony.
Bronwyn looked further along the trail. After taking a few steps, his eyes grew wide with awareness. Listen, he mouthed. The wind blowing in his face carried voices to his ears. He motioned Alaura towards the bushes, scooped up the reins and tied them to a thick branch. Grasping her hand, he bent low and led her along the trail.