Annabeth carefully applied the clay to the wound, pressing it gently to ensure it would draw out the poison. She moved with practiced hands, wrapping a clean bandage cloth around the injury and tying it tightly with a strip of cloth. The moment the pressure was set, she exhaled, feeling a wave of exhaustion wash over her but knowing the work wasn’t done.
She checked the bandage one last time, making sure the cloth was secure, then stepped back. The man still lay motionless, his features calm despite the severity of his injury. With a weary sigh, Annabeth turned to Murray and Bruce, who had been waiting nearby, ready to leave.
“Thank ye for yer help,” Annabeth said softly, her voice tired but grateful.
Bruce nodded, and Murray gave a quick glance at the injured man before speaking. “Aye, lass, we’ll leave ye to yer work. Should anything change, come get us.”
Annabeth gave them a small smile. “I will, thank ye again.”
As they left, closing the door behind them, Annabeth sat down in the chair beside the man’s bed, feeling the weight of the day pressing down on her. She rested her elbows on her knees andstared at the stranger’s face, her thoughts a swirl of concern and curiosity.
Claire entered the room quietly, glancing at Annabeth before speaking in a soft, motherly tone. “Ye need sleep.”
Annabeth shook her head, her eyes never leaving the man. “I cannae leave him. What if he needs something in the middle of the night and moves? That wound will open.”
Claire’s expression softened as she walked over, placing a gentle hand on Annabeth’s shoulder. “Ye’re a good lass,” she said, her voice full of warmth and pride.
Annabeth felt her heart swell at her mother’s words, but the weight of her decision kept her rooted to the chair.
“I just… I cannae rest easy,” Annabeth murmured, shaking her head. “I willnae sleep until I know he’ll be alright.”
Claire smiled softly, brushing a stray lock of Annabeth’s hair behind her ear. “Aye, I ken ye’re worried, but ye’ve done all ye can, lass.”
Annabeth smiled faintly in return though her thoughts were still on the stranger in her bed.
“I just want to make sure he’s alright. I’ll stay here with him,” Annabeth said firmly, her voice low but resolute.
Claire studied her daughter for a moment then sighed. “Very well, lass, but ye’ll need rest soon, else ye’ll be of no use to him—or yerself.”
Annabeth nodded but didn’t move, her gaze fixed firmly on the man. Claire kissed her forehead gently as she had done so many times in her life.
“Sleep, love,” Claire whispered, stepping away from the bed, her words full of quiet understanding.
Annabeth remained where she was, her tired body aching but her heart unwilling to move. She wasn’t sure if it was the care for this unknown man or the exhaustion pulling at her, but she stayed by his side, watching over him. She couldn’t help but wonder who this man was and how he had come to her doorstep. His presence weighed heavily on her, but it was also a strange comfort.
She leaned forward slightly, her gaze softening as she watched him breathe. This was her duty now, and she would see it through. She had always been taught to care for others, to do what she could, and this man needed her help.
Whatever his past, whatever brought him to me door, I will nae abandon him.
CHAPTER FIVE
The first thing Marcus noticed when he opened his eyes was the soft, steady rise and fall of the unknown woman’s chest as she slept beside him. His gaze lingered on her face, the faint light of morning casting a gentle glow on her features. She looked bonnie in her peaceful slumber, her blonde hair cascading over her shoulders.
Is this the angel I saw at the door? She was real, and from the looks of it, she was me own guardian.
He realized she had stayed by his side all night, no doubt nursing him through his pain. Her kindness made a strange warmth rise in his chest, a feeling that didn’t belong in the midst of his troubled thoughts. He tried to move, needing to get up, but a sharp pain shot through his side, and a grunt of discomfort escaped his lips.
Annabeth’s eyes fluttered open at the sound, her gaze snapping to him with immediate concern.
“Ye need to stay down,” she ordered, her voice laced with panic. Her hands hovered near his arm as if unsure whether to help or not. “Ye’ve nae idea how bad that wound is,” she muttered, frustration rising in her voice. “Lie back before ye make it worse.”
“I cannae stay here,” Marcus replied, his voice raspy but firm. “I need to leave. Me clan will be wonderin’ where I am.”
He tried to push himself up again, but the pain in his side stopped him cold. The weight of his clan’s worries pressed heavily on him, and he needed to return to make sure things hadn’t gone south while he was laid up. His determination was clear, but his body refused to cooperate.
Annabeth shook her head vehemently, her brow furrowing as she took a step forward.
“Ye cannae go anywhere—nae yet,” she said firmly, her hands on her hips. “The wound is poisoned. I cannae sew ye up yet; it needs to be drawn out first. Ye’ll make things worse if ye try to move before then.” Her voice softened for a moment, concern replacing the initial urgency. “Ye need to rest. It’ll take days, at least, before ye can move without riskin’ death.”
