Sibyl slid off her horse, tying it to a tree. “Aye,” Kirstin agreed, doing the same, tethering her horse as well. Moira had made them all a delicious breakfast. The women had gathered around the kitchen table, laughing at Donal’s jokes—the man’s eyes lit up from the inside every time he made Kirstin laugh—when Raife came in. He saw Sibyl and froze. “Come in, eat!” Moira called, waving him into the room. She even bravely put herself between Raife and the exit, but it was no use. “I’ll meet ye at the catacombs,” Raife said stiffly to Donal, giving him a nod and turning to go. He actually had to dance his way around Moira, who moved from side to side, insisting he stay and have something to eat, but in the end, he’d escaped. The men—Raife and Donal—were already there. Their horses were tethered across the field. Kirstin couldn’t help remembering seeing Donal across the clearing, head bent, praying at this burial cairn and the memory filled her with a warmth she was coming to both understand and expect.
