“Easy, lad, easy. I’m not here to hurt ye. I’m here to take ye home. A warm byre surrounded by all yer lady friends. What more could a self-respecting ram want, eh?”
Perhaps it was the soothing tone of his voice, or perhaps it was just blind luck, but this time Surly didn’t move and allowed Deryn to get a rope around his neck. Deryn backed out of the thicket, tugging Surly with him. The ram fought the tether at first, just as Deryn had expected, but he continued to talk soothingly and finally the beast gave up and trotted placidly after him.
The rain had not lessened. In fact, it seemed heavier, falling in windswept sheets across the landscape from clouds that looked dark and angry. Whistling to Mara and keeping a tight hold on Surly’s tether, Deryn set off for home, thinking longingly of the warm fire and dram of whisky he’d indulge in when he got there.
The ground underfoot had become boggy, the turf squishy with standing water, and the paths thick with mud. Deryn kept to the high ground as much as possible, but this exposed him to the biting wind that seemed to be doing its best to sweep him off the hills. All the fight had gone out of Surly, and he plodded along on the end of his tether with his head down. Even Mara seemed to be feeling it, trudging by Deryn’s side wearily and nudging Surly with her nose when he looked like he might fall behind.
The wind became ferocious. It howled and swirled, constantly changing direction. One minute it drove rain right into Deryn’s face, the next sent his hair swirling around his head like a nest of snakes. He stopped, looking around. This was no good. He could see nothing in this murk. If he continued, there was a chance he could lose his way entirely and then where would he and the animals be? He would not be the first highlander to get lost on the moors and die of exposure.
He turned around slowly, scanning the landscape for what he needed, eyes slitted against the wind and rain. There! A small, weather-beaten building squatted in the next field, barely visible against the landscape unless you knew what to look for.
Clucking to the animals, Deryn began cutting across the field towards it and was mighty relieved when he reached the building. The bothy was small, not much bigger than a stable, but it had four walls and a roof and right now that was all that mattered to Deryn.
He set his hands on the door and pushed it open with a creak, ushering the animals inside.
He started with surprise when he realized that candlelight filled the small room inside and a fire was burning merrily in the hearth. He was even more surprised to discover he was not the only occupant. An old woman was sitting on a three-legged stool by the fire, fussing Mara who’d gone running over with her tail wagging. Surly just let out an irritated bleat.
“I...um...beg yer pardon,” Deryn said. “Forgive my intrusion. I didnae realize there was anyone here. I was looking for somewhere to wait out the storm.”
The old woman waved away his apology and patted a stool. “Come sit by the fire and warm yerself, laddie. Ye look fair frozen through.”
“My thanks.” Leaving Surly to lie in the corner, Deryn made his way over and lowered his big frame down onto the stool. It creaked under his weight. He held his hands out to the fire and sighed appreciatively. “Ah, that’s better. I feared my animals and I were going to be wandering the wilds like lost souls.”
The old woman watched him intently. She was tiny. She would have looked like a child sitting beside him if it wasn’t for the wrinkles that bracketed her eyes and mouth and the gray hair pulled back into a bun. Firelight danced in the old woman’s eyes, which were dark and penetrating.
What was she doing out here? Deryn wondered. There were no settlements for miles. He ought to know—he had come out here for isolation, after all. So where had she come from? This was no place for the elderly. She ought to be tucked up warm at home with a family to take care of her rather than sitting in a lonely bothy in the middle of the wilds.
“Lost souls?” the old woman said. “An interesting turn of phrase, lad. Particularly as it describes ye so perfectly.”
He blinked at her. That was not the response he’d been expecting. Clearing his throat, he said, “I didnae expect to find anyone in the bothy. Not many come up this way. Only shepherds and the occasional traveler.”
She nodded. “Aye, and those who are looking to escape.”
The way she said it made Deryn uneasy. The look in her dark, dark eyes as she studied him was a little too knowing, too penetrating.
“Aye,” he muttered, turning to stare into the fire. “Those too.”
“The question is, Deryn Stewart, what are ye trying to escape from?”
He looked at her sharply. “How do ye know my name?”
She didn’t answer. Instead, she cocked her head and regarded him solemnly. “It is time to come back to yer true path, lad. Ye have punished yerself enough. Without ye, the Balance canna be righted. Ye canna escape who and what ye are meant to be.”
A sliver of cold slid down Deryn’s spine. He looked around the bothy and realized that the old woman had no gear with her. No blankets, no food, no tinder and flint for making fire as far as he could see. How had an old woman, utterly unequipped for the wild weather, made her way here? The unease deepened.
“Who are ye?” he asked.
“I think ye know who I am, lad. My name is Irene MacAskill.”
Before he knew it, Deryn was off the stool and backing away. This old woman suddenly seemed more threatening than any of the countless enemies he’d fought. She was far more powerful than all of them.
“What are ye doing here?” he demanded. “What do ye want with me?”
She watched him for a moment and then smiled, her eyes sparkling. “What am I doing here? Isnae that obvious, lad? I’m warming myself by the fire and talking to ye. What do I wantwith ye? Now that is a more difficult question and one I canna answer. It would be best if ye asked that of yerself. What doyewant, Deryn Stewart?”
Deryn looked away, uncomfortable under her stern gaze. What did he want? He’d once thought he had everything he wanted. He’d once thought his life was perfect. But that had been torn away and now his life was a pale reflection of what it had once been. Such was the way of things, and Deryn had long since stopped wishing it was otherwise.
“To be left alone,” he said at last.
