Guardian of Darkness by Kathryn Le Veque Read Free Book Online Page A

She wished she had some if only for the warmth it would provide.
    Carington glanced up at the sky; it was late morning, possibly mid-day, and she was famished.  Bress needed to eat and rest also.  Wandering across the green grass of an early spring season, she could hear water in the distance.   She followed the trickling sound, across the meadow, through a thicket, and emerging on the other side.  A small stream cut right through the pasture and she allowed Bress to drink heavily now that he was sufficiently cooled.   When he was finished with his water, he went to work on the thick grass that lined the stream and she tethered him to a bush so that he would not run off.   With the horse munching happily, she could focus on herself.
    She needed food.  The thicket was not too far away and she retraced her steps, entering the dark, cool trees and hoping to find some edible foliage. Off to her right, on the outskirts of the trees, was a huge cluster of dandelions.  She went to the patch, collecting as much as she could and using the length of her surcoat as a basket. 
    With a large amount of greens in the folds of her garment, she continued to search for edible plants.  She found some dill weed growing wild and collected a good measure.  She fingered through a section of the foliage, coming across a blackberry bush that was bursting with fruit. Thrilled, she harvested as much as she could carry. What she could not eat, Bress would. The horse had a sweet tooth. Laden with her harvest, she emerged from the thicket and made her way back to her gobbling horse.
    Sitting beside the stream, she washed her meal and ate until she was stuffed.  Bress ate the dandelion heads; she ate the delicious leaves. The horse did not want the dill weed, but he munched the blackberries that turned his horse-lips purple.  She tried to turn her back on him and gobble down her berries so he would not eat them, but he would bang at her with his big horse head and shove her around until she handed over the goods. In the end, he ate more than she did, but both were satisfied.
    Sated, Carington’s thoughts began to turn towards the coming night.  She had to either find shelter or make it, and she was not entire sure that staying in this spot was a good idea. She had already given Creed and his evil comrades the opportunity to catch up with her, but it could not have been helped. She decided that she needed to continue on and find shelter as it became necessary.  If she thought about it, she had some measure of anxiety since fleeing the English; she was fearful of what would happen if they caught her, fearful of what would happen if someone else caught her. Her flight was foolish and she knew it. But she had to keep going.
    Bress was rolling around in the grass when she finally stood up.  He seemed particularly happy. Grinning at his antics, she collected his lead rope and coaxed him to his feet. He stood up and shook himself like a wet dog.  Pulling the horse along with her, she retraced her steps back out to the road. 
    The wind was picking up slightly, blowing her black hair about.  Shielding her eyes from the weak mid-day sun, she gazed to the north and finally to the south, seeing not a soul in either direction. Mounting Bress, which was no easy feat considering how tall the animal was, she gathered her make-shift reins and began to trot southward along the road.
    This was lush country with moors and crags about the landscape.  After an hour of riding, she crested a small hill and spied a village in the distance.  She could see ribbons of gray smoke rising from a few chimneys, signaling the approach of dusk and the coming evening meal.  Night still fell early, even in the spring, and she made haste to the town to find someplace to sleep for the night. She hoped to find a stable or something similar for both her and the horse.  Without money, she had little choice in lodgings. 
    Carington was careful to stay out of sight when