A Warrior's Promise by Donna Fletcher Page B

“Stop.”
    He realized then that the animal was a big dog that
was relentlessly licking Charlotte’s face. And she was laughing and wincing when
he slobbered his tongue over her bruised cheek.
    â€œYou know this huge mutt?” Bryce asked.
    â€œDon’t you?” she said between the dog’s licks.
    â€œ Odin, ” Bryce said
sharply, and the dog stopped and plopped down beside Charlotte.
    She sat up and put her arm around the dog and gave
him a hug. “You escaped Culth, didn’t you?”
    He answered with a big lick.
    Bryce shook his head. “He cannot come with us.”
    Charlotte jumped up, and Odin growled as if he
understood.
    â€œHe most certainly is coming with us,” she said
with a pat to the dog’s head. “He’s tracked us all this way, and we will not
leave him on his own.”
    â€œHe could have been followed or sent to find us,”
Bryce argued, though he wondered if it was a useless argument. The two already
looked a pair, and he didn’t think there would be a chance of separating
them.
    â€œHe’s much too fast. No one would ever be able to
match his pace,” she insisted. “Besides, you saw how Culth—” Odin growled at the
mention of his name. “See, that answers it for you. He escaped the barbaric
fool.”
    Odin barked, as if in agreement.
    â€œSo this large mutt suddenly decided to pick a new
master and chose you?”
    Charlotte rubbed behind the dog’s ear. “He was
waiting for the right person to give his heart to.”
    Bryce shook his head, annoyed that she threw his
own words back at him.
    â€œHe’s here, and he’s ours,” Charlotte insisted.
“There’s nothing that can be done about it.” She turned and started walking,
Odin following beside her.
    Bryce kept shaking his head. The damn dog was
bigger than she when he stood on his hind legs. And what did she mean by ours. The dog obviously looked to her as his master,
and he and Charlotte were certainly not a pair, so how could the dog be ours ?
    He continued shaking his head as he walked,
wondering over it.

Chapter 11
    T hey came upon a small croft. An older woman, Glenna, lived there alone, and though age and toil marred her face and body, there was a vibrancy to her that was remarkable. In exchange for some repairs to her roof and door, the old woman agreed to give them food staples and repair Charlotte’s shirt and tunic.
    Bryce remained busy outside tending to the few chores. Odin was forced to remain with him, though not without a whining protest when Charlotte followed the old woman into the house, where she set to work, and she and Charlotte began to talk.
    â€œHave you been traveling long?” Glenna asked, working her bone needle skillfully through the linen cloth.
    Charlotte was surprised that the woman hadn’t commented on her gender when she slipped off the torn tunic. She hadn’t been the least bit taken aback. Had she known upon first meeting Charlotte? She hadn’t seen any reason to hide her gender. The woman certainly appeared harmless enough though she had yet to ascertain who Glenna favored, the reigning king or the true king. But that wouldn’t be hard to find out.
    â€œA week or more,” Charlotte said, wrapping the plaid around her. “That’s how long I’ve been searching for my da.” She didn’t say anything about Bryce’s mission as it was not for her to say. She watched closely the old woman’s reactions as she continued on. “The soldiers took my da from our home, and I’ve since discovered that it’s possible he’s being held in the king’s secret prison.”
    Glenna nodded, not showing an ounce of indignation or protesting the king’s actions. That worried Charlotte. Could the woman be a sympathizer of the present king?
    â€œHave you heard of such a place?” Charlotte cautiously asked.
    â€œI pay no heed