An Echo in the Bone (Outlander, #7)

by Diana Gabaldon

I’d barely got to my feet and raised a hand to smooth my hair when someone else’s hand poked me in the back. I started violently but luckily didn’t scream. “It’s me, Auntie,” Young Ian whispered from the shadows behind me. “Come with—oh, Jesus.” William had come within ten paces of me and, raising his head, had spied Ian. He leapt forward and grabbed me by the arm, yanking me away from the trees. I yelped, as Ian had an equally firm grip on the other arm and was yanking lustily in that direction. “Let her go!” William barked. “The devil I will,” Ian replied hotly. “You let go!” Mrs. Wellman’s little son was on his feet, staring round-eyed and open-mouthed into the forest. “Mama, Mama! Indians!” Shrieks rose from the women near us, and everyone began a mad scramble away from the forest, leaving the wounded to their own devices. “Ah, bugger!” Ian said, letting go in disgust. William didn’t, jerking me with such force that I crashed into him, whereupon he promptly wrapped his arms about my waist and dragged me a little way into the field. “Will ye bloody leave go of my auntie?” Ian said crossly, emerging from the trees. “You!” said William. “What are you—well, never mind that. Your aunt, you say?” He looked down at me. “Are you? His aunt? Wait—no, of course you are.” “I am,” I agreed, pushing at his arms. “Let go.” His grasp loosened a little, but he didn’t release me. “How many others are in there?” he demanded, lifting his chin toward the forest. “If there were any others, ...

Jamie with the flaming arrow from the trailer???