Diana Gabaldon · @Writer_DG
24th Sep 2013 from TwitLonger
#DailyLines #MOBY #WrittenINMyOWNHeartsBLOOD #Book8 #OutMARCH25th #friendorfoe
Darkness came upon us a few miles from Coryell’s Ferry, but the glow of the camp was faintly visible against the sky, and we made our way cautiously in, being stopped every quarter-mile or so by sentries who popped unnervingly out of the dark, muskets at the ready.
“Friend or foe?” the sixth of these demanded dramatically, peering at us in the beam of a dark-lantern held high.
“General Fraser and his lady.” Jamie said, shielding his eyes with his hand and glaring down at the sentry. “Is that friendly enough for ye?”
I muffled a smile in my shawl; he’d refused to stop to find food along the way, and I’d refused to let him consume uncooked bacon, no matter how well smoked. Jenny’s four apples hadn’t gone far, we’d found no food since the night before, and he was starving. An empty stomach generally woke the fiend that slept within, and this was clearly in evidence at the moment.
“Er…yes, sir, General, I only--” The lantern’s beam of light shifted to rest on Rollo, catching him full in the face and turning his eyes to a eerie green flash. The sentry made a strangled noise, and Ian leaned down from his horse, his own face—Mohawk tattoos and all—appearing suddenly in the beam.
“Dinna mind us,” he said genially to the sentry. “We’re friendly, too.”