I Am Warrior

Epilogue

The small village looked undisturbed, like it had been frozen in time from when she left to now, almost two months later. Imogen stared at the small town from the top of her grey mare, the well with the wooden signs catching her eye.

The closer they came to the edge of town, the more Imogen felt the urge to smile. Grayson, who rode in front of her, appeared relaxed, but Imogen could see the tension in his shoulders. He was anxious to see his mother. And his son, she realised with sudden clarity. David was Grayson's son. She hasn't seen any similarities between them; where Grayson was broad shouldered and tangled hair, David had been awkward and lanky in his adolescence. Though, she supposed, they certainly had similar demeanours.

News in small towns spread quickly; before they'd even reached the small inn, despite not having seen another living soul, Niamh had bustled out, eyes glistening with unshed tears of joy. A cry of relief, of happiness exploded from her small, frail body as she surged towards the horses. She only had eyes for her son, who looked like a giant next to the tiny woman.

Grayson leapt off his horse and drew his mother into a tender hug. She had not realised there was other horsemen with him, Imogen acknowledged. If it had been herself in the same position, she doubted she would have either.

Blake jumped off his own gelding and moved towards the old woman, who, after being released from Grayson's tight hold, became swept up in another bear hug. Imogen watched the interaction from beside her horse, having dismounted with Blake, but unwilling to interrupt, remained by the mare's side.

Niamh was jittering happily, repeating over and over again that she had missed Grayson, that she loved him, that she was so glad he was alive. Blake met a similar fate. Imogen didn't want to know how long it had been since she'd seen her own son. But she suspected that it must have been a very long while.

She didn't notice all eyes turn to her. 'My dear,' Niamh began, marching toward her, 'What have you done to your dress?'

Imogen let out a sheepish laugh, raking a hand through her matted tangle of dark hair, before being enveloped into a hug like the others. It made her feel warm inside that Niamh hadn't forgotten her. Though, she supposed with bemusement, the circumstances under which they met didn't really allow for it to be forgotten. She was sure she'd made a distinct impression on the whole town.

Shrugging, Imogen grinned. 'Oh, you know, this and that.'

Niamh arched a weathered brow. 'I hope they appreciated how nice you looked in red before they tried to do anything.'

Imogen snorted but she heard a small growl escape from Blake. Looking over the small woman's head, Imogen gave him an arched look, but he pretended he hadn't seen it. Turning back to Niamh, she whispered conspiratorially, 'They thought it was rather funny at the start. They thought I was just like everyone else.'

Niamh grinned, her milky eyes shining. 'Imagine their surprise when they found out you weren't.'

Imogen laughed out loud. 'I didn't have to. You would have loved it.'

The women were interrupted by a fifth voice. 'Pa?' Imogen glanced up to see David, and her suspicions were confirmed. The two men launched themselves at one another, and she wouldn't have been surprised if David had a bruise later. Or two. She couldn't hear exactly what the pair were saying, but she didn't have to. They were comforting each other.

She caught a snippet of their conversation as Niamh led her and Blake back into the inn. 'Are you going back?'

'No, son. I think I'm back for good.'

Imogen smiled, feeling her whole body relax. She was sure Blake noticed because a second later, his hand was at her waist, holding her close. He touched under her chin with his index finger, moving to lift it up, presumably to kiss her, but Niamh stopped him.