She could no longer see her sheep, though she’d watched her cousin gather them up and head off to their usual spot for grazing. The air was a bit warmer, though it was obviously still autumn. For all she knew, she was ablaze with a fever that had roasted her wits. The forest was full of trees just as she’d seen it not a handful of moments before and she was still in her proper form.
Perhaps ‘twas time to do the unthinkable and brave the inside of the witch’s croft.
She made her way along the eves of the forest until she found a path that led inward. She walked silently along that until she came to a halt twenty paces away from the healer’s croft. It was still fashioned from sturdy stones, the doorway was still boasting a solid piece of wood as a defense against the night and enemies, and the path that led there was still flanked by what poor bits of land anyone had ever managed to clear for the cultivation of healthful plants.
She put her hand out on her tree, then pulled it back to herself quickly. She realized with an unpleasant bit of alarm that her tree wasn’t the same, her hiding place was gone, and even the bark was so weathered that she couldn’t believe the tree still lived—
She heard voices and the sound of light laughter. A woman’s laughter, as it happened, as well as the sound of a man’s deep voice. It wasn’t a terrible noise, which was reassuring. In fact, if she’d had even two wits left to rub together, she might have considered it a good, homely sound that left her wanting to join in and become a part of what sounded like familial happiness.
The door to the croft opened and two souls crossed the threshold, light spilling out from behind them. She pushed away from her tree and staggered forward a handful of steps, notbecause she particularly wanted to, but because she couldn’t help herself.
A woman stood there, holding onto the arm of a man. She was very beautiful, with long, curling dark hair, a lovely visage, and a blossoming belly that spoke of joys to come in a few months’ time.
The man standing next to her was one she recognized. His fair hair was, as it usually was, golden in the pale light of the morning. His visage was also as it usually was, full of noble planes and angles with a beautiful mouth that gave voice to kind words and wry observations. His form was, also as usual, enough to put any of the lads of her family to shame. He wore some species of tunic that reached down to a reasonably modest level and covered things it should.
But his legs were covered in spots.
She gaped at him. “Did ye catch the pox?” she asked in astonishment.
Oliver’s mouth worked industriously, no doubt as he looked for something useful to say.
And then something else occurred to her, something that left her suddenly and quite ridiculously unhappy. She gestured to the beautiful woman who had been holding onto his arm on their way through the doorway but had now released him and taken a step forward.
“Is that your lady wife?” she managed, wishing she sounded quite a bit less devastated and far more aloof.
The woman didn’t even bother with a glance in Oliver’s direction. She did look over her shoulder to the innards of the croft, then walked forward and held out her hand.
“I’m Sunshine, Oliver’s cousin,” she said in reassuringly perfect Gaelic, “though I’m more of an older sister than a cousin, actually. Who are you?”
Mairead took Sunshine’s hand and wished hers weren’t so chilly. “Mairead,” she managed. “How are you here as well?” She looked at Oliver. “Did your mates rob her and leave her with you to tend?”
He was still wearing the sort of look she’d seen on more than one man’s face when he simply didn’t have the words to use in addressing the madness lying before himself. At least a closer view of his fine self—not too close, of course—revealed that he wasn’t covered in pox sores, but rather oddly patterned trews.
“And what, by all that is holy,” she managed. “are you wearing?”
Sunshine laughed and it was as though a merry fire had simply sprung to life there before them all. “A terrible gift from his friends, I’m afraid.”
“Lady Sunshine, I do not think they are his friends,” Mairead said. “They’ve robbed him of his goods and left him here to see to foolish tasks in order to regain their company. No number of horses are worth that.”
“I would imagine Oliver agrees,” Sunshine said with another cheerful smile. She began to chafe Mairead’s hand, then reached for the other to attend to it as well. “How did you come here?”
“I walked,” Mairead said, beginning to wonder if she shouldn’t have stayed at home. “Though I’m afraid my journey here is not one you would believe. I’m not sure I believe it myself.”
“You might be surprised,” Sunshine said, her smile faltering slightly. “Will you tell me how it began?”
Mairead supposed there was no reason not to be honest. “I stepped inside a ring in the grass near our border with Cameron soil.” She would have attempted a smile, but she was too chilled to. “No one puts foot inside it, usually.”
“But you did, because you’re not afraid.”
“I’m afraid of several things,” Mairead said honestly, “but not that.”
Sunshine smiled again, her expression full of understanding and sympathy. “I understand, believe me. I imagine we would have many things in common if we had time to talk about them, but I’m afraid you might be missed if you’re away too long. Shall we walk you back to the meadow and start you on your way home?”
“But I came to learn the truth,” Mairead protested.
That was perhaps stating it badly. She’d spent her previous sleepless night trying to smother a curiosity that burned within her like a bonfire and refused to spend another night in like manner. She couldn’t go home until she had at least had a few answers about things that perplexed her.
“Why don’t we find somewhere to sit and we’ll satisfy your curiosity at least about a few things,” Sunshine said carefully, “though you’ll need to keep what we discuss to yourself. That looks like a decently comfortable stump over there we could share.”
