Malcolm could not remember the last time he had been so tired, or so determined. He would get Jeanette back to her kin safely, if it took the last ounce of strength and stamina he had. And he was pretty close to the last of his strength. They both were. “Are we getting close to the castle, angel?” he asked quietly. He had his good arm wrapped around her waist, supporting her as much as he was able. She was lucky that she had not hurt herself badly when she fell, but even a slight injury grew in pain when not taken care of, and they had not had the time, nor the materials needed, to take care of the scrapes she had sustained. She did not take her eyes off the ground in front of them as she carefully set her feet, one after the other, on the trail they followed. “It should be just a little farther. If we had walked along the shore of the loch, we would be there already.” Her voice was thick with what he knew must be a potent mix of exhaustion, pain, and hunger.
