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They camped by a loch that night, on a promontory overlooking the water. Earlier Esca had taken a horrifyingly bracing swim to get the mud of travel off, and then gone fishing, grateful to avoid the routine of wading through a bog to retrieve a duck because Marcus hadn’t wanted to bring a dog.
Now there was a fire, and some nice fish to clean and cook for dinner.
Something rippled out in the loch, like the back of a great dark beast. As it came closer, Marcus stood, hand on sword-hilt.
Although he would never admit it later, Esca might have screamed when the head came up on its long snaky neck and bent down to examine the fish he was cleaning, lips peeling back from pointed teeth.
He didn’t argue. It caught the tossed fish with a snap and was gone with a surprising speed for such a huge creature, as if they had dreamed it.
Esca looked at Marcus, who was still frozen in place, eyes huge. He hadn’t even managed to draw his sword. “What was that?”
“Something we will never speak of again,” Esca said.
After that they stopped camping by large bodies of water.