“Nay, I dinnae want tae see anything!”
But it was no use. She forced her eyes open, and with a sinking feeling, she discovered that the forest had disappeared, and she now stood in the courtyard of Dunnvie Castle. For several seconds, she was met with silence, but as she continued to observe the scene in front of her, she became aware of the low murmur of the people who surrounded her.
A slight movement caught in her peripheral vision, and when she turned her head, her heart skipped at seeing her father. He was so close that she could almost touch the sash of his great kilt. In all respects, she should have felt joyful at seeing her sire, but the expression on his face frightened her. She had never seen him like this before. He stared straight ahead, while the muscle at the side of his jaw pulsated.
Another small movement to the right of her father drew her attention. It was her mother, she realized. Her mother’s face was pinched and stained with tears. Her hair was in disarray, and she appeared to have aged several years.
Adrina clenched her fists. Usually she only had to endure the vision up to this point. But for some reason, her guidance wanted to show her more.
“Ye cannae do this!” Alarm increased the volume in her mother’s voice, as she was pushed to climb the large platform. She turned to her husband. “Stop them, Tevon!”
But even her father knew that he was powerless.
“Keep moving,” the executioner said gruffly, nudging them toward the hanging ropes.
“Nay,” Adrina whispered. “This isnae happening. Thiscannaebe happening. This is only a dream…”
She propped her forehead on her palm. Her parents were living when she left Dunnvie, and they would be alive when she returned. They had to be! She covered her ears and shook her head, trying to block out the awful scenes. Yet her mother’s cries still echoed in her head. Why was she experiencing the impressions now? All previous times, this particular vision had come to her in her sleep. This time, however, it struck her while she was fully conscious. So what did this mean? Did something terrible happen to her parents while she was away?
The turmoil continued to swirl in her body, leaving her helpless and afraid. But then the sweeping chill abruptly left her. As she lifted her head, she discovered that she was once again surrounded by the vibrant colors of the forest.
She took in a deep breath. The execution hadn’t taken place. What she saw was only a nightmare. There was no truth to any of it. Unless she saw physical evidence to indicate otherwise, her parents were alive and well.
“This is where we’ll make camp…” Duncan said, his voice interjecting into her thoughts.
“What did ye say?” She sat up on her saddle, grateful for the distraction.
“I said that we’ll spend the night here.” His brow furrowed with concern, and something else too. “Are ye all right, lass? Ye look ill.”
Adrina felt heat rise to her cheeks when she realized how she must have appeared to him. She knew that she shouldn’t care what he thought of her, but she didn’t want him to view her with fear and abhorrence. She already experienced plenty of that in Dunnvie.
“I’m fine,” she lied. “I just have a wee headache.”
Duncan studied her face, but she must have sounded convincing enough because he abandoned the subject. Circling around her horse, he came to help her dismount. Then gathering the reins, he led the horses to secure them to a nearby tree. He started to take a sack and the dead hare from the horse when he paused.
“Do ye ken how to start a cookfire?”
“Of course,” she said. “A woodcutter once taught me how tae do it.”
“Guid, then I willnae have tae explain what ye need tae do,” he said, handing her the bag. “Ye will find the flint inside the pack, and there should be enough dry material around here for ye tae start a fire. I’ll be by the river tae clean the hare.” With that, he took his catch and walked toward the loch.
She watched him leave, feeling at once relieved that he didn’t question her odd behavior, yet also feeling scared that her visions would return.
But the unsettling fears soon faded to the back of her mind. Picking up large and small twigs, fallen leaves and dried brush, she placed them into a pile. Next, she searched for medium-sized rocks, and formed them into a circle. Arranging the dry material in the center of her small fire pit, she then brushed her palms together to get rid of the dirt from her hands. Her next task was to use the flint to start the blaze. Slipping her hand in the sack, her fingers encountered the smooth, cool surface of the bottle. Gladness filled her heart. This was the anecdote that would free her people. Pulling it out, she examined the dark liquid within the container. She had gone so far to obtain this potion. Recalling the difficulty in brewing the tincture, she didn’t want to risk anything happening to it. Then with great care, she placed the vial back into the sack, and dug around until she found the flintstone.
In short time, Adrina had a cheery little fire burning in the pit. Stretching her arms out, she allowed the heat of the fire to warm her hands.
It was the leaves that were the first to burn. As the material curled in the fire, it released a fragrant vapor. Adrina sat back on her heels, and watch the tendrils of smoke rising higher and higher. Her eyes traced the delicate gray wisps that swirled and danced to a music that seemed indiscernible to human ears. She had never seen smoke behave in this manner before, and she watched it with fascination. But then the curling haze changed direction, as if a small gust of wind had pushed it aside, and the area above the fire pit began to shimmer. While she might have considered that the flames triggered the curious waves, however that assumption couldn’t begin to explain the multiple colors that rippled through it.
The smoke patterns in front of her continued to swirl and dance. It was impossible to look away. Holding her breath, she watched as the vapor spun more rapidly, forming into a large mass. Then the smoke unexpectedly stopped its motion and began to shift. Still part of the mist remained, and soon a faint image began to show itself. She leaned closer to get a clear view of the picture, but it wasn’t necessary.
“Duncan,” she whispered, recognizing his likeness. Somehow she was viewing him remotely, and without his knowledge.
As the seconds passed, the picture became more vivid, so vivid that it was as if he stood a few short paces away from her. Her mind couldn’t comprehend what she was seeing, yet she knew she couldn’t turn away even if she tried.
Every warrior she knew wore a kilt, carried a claymore, and fought in wars. There was nothing special about any of these things. So why was she so fascinated, so curious by this particular Highlander?
Pivoting on his heels, and with his back to her, Duncan stood at the edge of the loch, and casually loosened his belt. Her hand went reflexively to her mouth when he pulled off his great kilt, and dropped the material to the ground. She glanced nervously behind her, and was relieved to find that no one was there to witness her guilty pleasure. Then as if the image above the fire held some magnetic force, her scrutiny was immediately drawn back to him. But what she saw next caused her to suck in a sharp breath. Duncan was now reaching behind him, pulling theleineover his head. At the sight of his naked masculine frame, she lost all coherent thought. Her eyes traced his broad shoulders down to the curve of his tight, well-formed backside. Every muscle on his body was defined, and established from long hours of labor and combat.
