It saddened Nic to think of the faithful mount he'd lost in Ireland--another price of war. Nevertheless, losing Trojan was nothing in comparison to his loss of Morgan and his baby. His men did not complain of the pace their leader set for them. They knew better, but more than that, the men knew time was of the essence. They all silently acknowledged the dangers to her and the baby were tremendous. Each day passing was one more day Morgan was in the clutches of a lunatic. They were gaining ground and knew it because Morgan left signs here and there. On the morning of the fifth day, Nic’s scout came charging back into camp. “Sir, I think I have found something, but they are not together,” he said breathlessly, still on his horse. “Come quickly.” The scout had found the remains of the man he thought they were tracking. “The forest animals have gotten to him, but he is somewhat recognizable.” Nic’s stomach turned. If her captor were dead then what had happened to his wife? Nic did not think he could take the pain and grief if she were dead, too.
