"That sounds like a plan, Bolden," he said with a nod. "The River Flower can't be more than ten minutes away. I'll get the boy on Tairell."
He lifted the boy as carefully as possible - he was still crying, but Ronan had to ignore him to get the job done. He sat him up on the Strider, securing him there, and then cast a momentary glance over him.
"Please don't cry," he said softly, "look. You're mother is all upset too, she needs you to be strong."
The boy looked at him, snivelling, frowning, but the incessant crying slowed.
"See. You can be a big and strong boy for your mother."
He smiled, and went to stroke Tairell. Putting a stranger on her wasn't perhaps the cleverest thing, but Ronan's own presence kept her calmer. He thought back to what had happened... someone had let her out from the stables. Things began to fall into place. Was a storm not the perfect opportunity for crime - the less people milling about the better.
Tairell had been the victim of a horse thief, he was sure of it. She was a hardy old girl, stronger than people presumed. It seemed she hadn't taken kidnapping lightly.
"We're going to take you to the healers," Ronan promised the boy, "they'll be able to make you feel better, and fix your arm." He turned back to the tent as Bolden coaxed the mother along. His eyes flitted to the father's body.
He was stone. A Watcher had to be. But inside.... inside it was like a crack forming across a sheet of ice, splintering until it shattered. Another boy without a father. Another boy left alone in the world. He suddenly felt a powerful kinship to this boy. And Bolden too. Bolden was cut off from his own parents, it seemed.
Why did life have to be this way, he thought miserably. It could be so cruel, so suddenly, and it made you think about things. Was fate just a number, ready to be rolled on the toss of a dice?
He lifted the boy as carefully as possible - he was still crying, but Ronan had to ignore him to get the job done. He sat him up on the Strider, securing him there, and then cast a momentary glance over him.
"Please don't cry," he said softly, "look. You're mother is all upset too, she needs you to be strong."
The boy looked at him, snivelling, frowning, but the incessant crying slowed.
"See. You can be a big and strong boy for your mother."
He smiled, and went to stroke Tairell. Putting a stranger on her wasn't perhaps the cleverest thing, but Ronan's own presence kept her calmer. He thought back to what had happened... someone had let her out from the stables. Things began to fall into place. Was a storm not the perfect opportunity for crime - the less people milling about the better.
Tairell had been the victim of a horse thief, he was sure of it. She was a hardy old girl, stronger than people presumed. It seemed she hadn't taken kidnapping lightly.
"We're going to take you to the healers," Ronan promised the boy, "they'll be able to make you feel better, and fix your arm." He turned back to the tent as Bolden coaxed the mother along. His eyes flitted to the father's body.
He was stone. A Watcher had to be. But inside.... inside it was like a crack forming across a sheet of ice, splintering until it shattered. Another boy without a father. Another boy left alone in the world. He suddenly felt a powerful kinship to this boy. And Bolden too. Bolden was cut off from his own parents, it seemed.
Why did life have to be this way, he thought miserably. It could be so cruel, so suddenly, and it made you think about things. Was fate just a number, ready to be rolled on the toss of a dice?
