A little while later, Silas was startled from thoughts of his slain men and worries for his brother when the Hibernian woman approached them.
“I brought you water.” The voice was low, as all Hibernian were, but with a tone of softness within it that sharpened Silas attention.
He looked up, bracing himself for a blow or a cutting remark, but the young woman just set the bowl down and cautiously pushed it closer.
He met brown eyes, shocked to find no malice there, no sign of ill will. In fact, there was almost sympathy there, a sort of empathy he would never have expected to find within their enemy race at all.
He had wondered about this Hibernian woman several times during their painful trek, noting she was so small and she's carrying a large pack on her small dainty back. And she's not
