14 Sarah and John

They arrived at the ranch just before noon. Mingan had long since tired of carrying the human woman. His arms ached from fatigue, coupled with his lack of sleep, his mood had darkened considerably. Elloreah's pace had faltered again, her injuries and the ill-fitting shoes slowing her.

The last mile or so proved easier, the rutted dirt road an improvement over the narrow game trails. Mingan breathed a sigh of relief when the path opened up to reveal a sprawling farmhouse.

Though the paint was peeling and the roof sagged in one corner, it was clearly well loved. An old dog howled a greeting. Mingan laughed, barely holding back the urge to call out a greeting of his own in response.

A woman in her mid to late twenties, short and round in stature, sat on the front porch swing, a thick blonde braid hanging over one shoulder. She looked up from her quilting at the dog's howl, rubbing the old mutt's head absently. It took a moment before she saw the source of the animal's distress. Soon she was a flurry of movement, putting her work aside and rushing down the steps to the drive.

"Mingan," Sarah exclaimed, "and Magdalena?" she took in Maggie's bloodied temple and traumatized state, touching the girl's cheek reassuringly. She then turned, furrowing a brow at Elloreah. "Who is this?"

"Elloreah," Mingan provided.

"What a state you're all in. What happened?"

Mingan only shook his head. "What hasn't happened in the last day and a half?" he muttered. "I take it Lokni and Hayeta are not here?"

"No, they were here, but they only mentioned that you were on your way before helping themselves to a meal and heading home. You know how they feel about the ranch."

"They left? They left me here to deal with..." Mingan groaned. "Never mind. Let's get them inside, my arms are tired. Maggie here is one of yours."

"I know." Sarah focused on the woman, walking alongside them as Mingan made his way toward the ramshackle building. "Where is Jacob?"

Maggie whimpered and turned her face into Mingan's shoulder. Mingan shook his head, frowning. Sarah's face flashed briefly with pained understanding before her determinedly cheerful mask slipped back into place.

"Never you mind," she said, putting a hand lightly on the woman's shoulder. "Let's get you all cleaned up."

"I'll leave Maggie to you. Elloreah is my responsibility. Though if you have some spare clothes..." He glanced in Elloreah's direction. "Stay close, girl." Elloreah limped after, keeping a determined pace just a step behind.

Sarah ran up the steps to hold the door open. "Take her to the kitchen. I'll get everyone settled." She went to a cabinet collecting supplies into a wicker basket on her hip.

The kitchen was large and open, the counters filled with cooking supplies, herbs, fruits and vegetables. The massive, battered, old table was clear except for an apron hanging off the edge. Mingan set Maggie down on it and turned to Elloreah.

"Sit, get those boots off," he told her. Elloreah glanced around briefly before settling for the bench seat of the large table, working off the boots and layers of socks with some effort. The way the cloth stuck to her skin hinted at the damage done.

"Fill a pot with hot water," Sarah instructed, taking in Elloreah's feet in one quick glance before setting down a basket filled with first aid supplies and towels onto the table next to the shell shocked Maggie. She brushed Maggie's hair back and caught the young woman's cheek in her hand. "You're gonna be just fine."

Maggie nodded, sniffing and blinking back tears. "Oh Sarah," she choked out, flinging her arms around the motherly blonde woman. "They killed Jacob!"

Mingan brought the pot of hot water around, pointedly ignoring the near hysterical women at the table. He set it before Elloreah's feet before digging into the box of supplies for the carton of Epsom salt.

He stirred it into the pot, face set in grim determination. Elloreah's tension and sympathetic grief was almost palpable. He wanted nothing more than to get out of the room, to find John and adjust the failing runes. She should not have such an effect on him.

"Soak your feet. This'll help with the blisters," he told her, straightening. "Sarah, do you need any more help?"

Sarah shook her head, stroking Maggie's hair as she sobbed. "No, we're alright, Mingan," she said softly. "Thanks for bringing Maggie back to us."

Mingan nodded and set his gaze on Elloreah. "Stay put, let your feet soak," he ordered gruffly, digging in his pockets. "I'm going out for a smoke."

Mingan slipped out the back door. Pulling out his tobacco pouch, he walked to the edge of the porch and sat, rolling a cigarette. By the time he had it lit, he spotted the ranch's owner making his slow way down the hill from the barn.

He was scruffier than when Mingan had last seen him, his thinning, tawny brown hair grown out and hanging loose around his face. A sparse beard covering freckled features. Though still appearing to be in his forties, John seemed to have aged since the last time Mingan had seen him.

John raised a hand in greeting. "What's the news?" he asked. "Hayeta and Lokni came through late last night. Left just before dawn. Obnoxiously vague, they were."

"Were they injured?" Mingan asked.

John shook his head. "Nothing too bad. They wanted none of Sarah's fussing. Had all they needed in the trunk of that car of theirs, they said. Just stayed to rest up before heading back. Said you should have it under control."

Mingan nodded, still irritated at their abandonment, but relieved to hear that they were no worse for wear.

"I felt the surge of gate magic. What came through?"

Mingan sighed, leaning back against the porch railing. "The stray Mythic is in your kitchen as we speak."