Diana Gabaldon · @Writer_DG
17th Oct 2013 from TwitLonger
#DailyLines #MOBY #WrittenINMyOWNHeartsBLOOD #Book8 #OutMARCH25th #heatofbattle
They made their way across the fields, picking up [ ] at the farmhouse—it was deserted, no need to leave anyone there—and across the bridge over one of the creeks. He slowed a little as his horse’s hooves thudded on the planks, feeling the blessed cool dampness coming up from the water thirty feet below. They should stop, he thought, for water—they hadn’t, since early morning, and the canteens would be running dry—but it would take too long for so many men to work their way along the ravine, down to the creek, and back up. He thought they could make it to La Fayette’s position; there were wells there.
He could see the road ahead, and peeled an eye for lurking British. He wondered, with a moment’s irritation, where Ian was; he would have liked to know where the British _were_.
He found out an instant later. A gunshot cracked nearby, and his horse slipped and fell. Jamie yanked his foot free and rolled out of the saddle as the horse hit the bridge with a thud that shook the whole structure, struggled for an instant, neighing loudly, and slid over the edge into the ravine.
Jamie scrambled to his feet; his hand was burning, all the skin taken off his palm when the reins ripped through his grasp.
“Run!” he shouted, with what breath he had left, and waved an arm wildly, gathering the men, pointing them down the road toward a growth of trees that would cover them. “_Go_!”
He found himself among them, the surge of men carrying him with them, and they stumbled into cover, gasping and wheezing with the effort of running. Kerby and Guthrie were sorting out their companies, the late Captain Craddock’s men were clustering near Jamie, and he nodded to Bixby and Corporal Greenhow to count noses.
He could still hear the sound the horse had made, hitting the ground below the bridge.
He was going to vomit; he felt it rising and knew better than to try to hold it back. He made a quick staying motion toward Lieutenant Schnell, who wanted to speak to him, stepped behind a large pine and let his stomach turn itself out like an emptied sporran.