Page 57 of No Place in Time

The thought frightened her almost as much as the marriage did. But she would chance it.

If she could locate the machine.

32

FINN

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By midday, Finn’s hands were shaking. He had eaten only wild garlic and water since leaving the cave, and the cracked rib stabbed him with every breath.

Through the trees he saw a tilled field, and beyond it, a cottage with smoke rising from the chimney, one of his family’s tenants, almost certainly. People meant food. Even a crust of bread would be better than foraging in the woods. Finn changed direction and headed toward the field.

The sun warmed his face. He drew a breath of rich, dark earth, and for a moment, the world felt steady. Then his vision warped at the edges, the birdsong overhead turning sharp and distant. The distant cottage wavered. He pressed a hand to his side as pain flared, hot and insistent, and felt something shift beneath his fingers.

He didn’t even feel himself fall, just the dirt against his face and the air gone from his lungs. Pain tore through his chest. He tried to push himself up, but his arms wouldn’t hold him.

Cecily.

∞∞∞

He heard young voices, high pitched and excited.

“Mama! Mama! There’s a man!”

“Is he dead?”

“I don’t know. Should we poke him?”

“Don’t poke him, that’s rude.”

“But how do we know if he’s dead?”

Finn tried to speak, to tell them he wasn’t dead, but nothing came out.

Small feet running. Fading away. Then silence.

He lay there, his cheek pressed against the cool earth, and waited.

More footsteps. Heavier. Slower.

He heard a woman’s voice, wary. “Step back, children. Don’t touch him.”

Something firm prodded his shoulder. He managed a sound, half groan, half breath.

“He’s alive.” The woman said. “Barely.”

Finn felt her crouch beside him, her hands checking him over. She found the cracked rib, and he flinched.

“Can ye stand?” she asked.

He tried. He braced his arms beneath him, pushed, and collapsed again.

The woman was silent for a long moment. He felt the weight of her gaze, the pause that would decide whether he lived or died on this patch of earth. A stranger was a risk; he knew she was weighing that risk.

“Alright,” she said finally. “But if ye try anything, I’ll crack yer skull with the fire poker.”

Her hands gripped under his arms. She was stronger than she looked. Between her pulling and the children hauling him by his legs, they got him moving. He heard the children’s voices again, peppering their mother with questions.