Marissa tried to keep track of where they were heading, tried as hard as she could to recall the map of the loch. But the only other time she had been there was during late evening. The sun had sunk so soon after they’d arrived on their first outing.
And when they’d arrived at the loch this time, Marissa had been so busy arguing with Arthur about blindfolding her that she hadn’t taken much stock of her surroundings. She soon found herself so confused and discombobulated about which direction they were heading that she gave up trying to figure it out.
Marissa also had no concept of the amount of time that had passed since the handkerchief had been slipped over her eyes. It could have been minutes, or it could have been hours. She would not have been able to tell the difference.
The one thing that she did know, however, was that a sound had begun niggling at her mind. It was familiar, but she couldn’t immediately place it.
There was splashing involved, quite a lot of it. And a soft, gentle rustling and… Was that flapping?
The sounds grew louder, amplifying to be almost cacophonous. It was one distinct sound, however, that she was able to identify. A squeaking wail, high and raspy, that had the hairs all over her body standing on end.
“Arthur,” she said hesitantly, trying to fight the urge to tug against his gentle lead. “What am I hearin’?”
“We’re almost there,” he assured her, refusing to answer her question.
Before she could argue back, he stopped walking. He placed her in front of him and tugged the handkerchief from her eyes with a flourish.
Marissa blinked rapidly, trying to clear her vision from the sudden onslaught of light. Slowly, the scene before her started to come into focus.
Just as she’d begun to suspect, it was ducks that sat in front of her. But not just a few of them.
No. Seemingly hundreds, if not thousands of them sat before her. They were quacking merrily, ruffling their feathers and squawking at one another.
Rubbery legs kicked in the air as they turned their bodies upright, diving beneath the water to catch fish.
Marissa didn’t wait. As soon as her mind caught up with what she was seeing, she opened her mouth and screamed as loud as she possibly could.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
“What are ye doin’?” Arthur yelled, surprised by her outburst. “What are ye yellin’ for?”
The ducks, terrified by her sudden outburst, let out loud, panicked quacks. The sound of flapping filled the air as they propelled themselves into the sky.
Hundreds of birds, all taking flight at once in a bid to escape her. Feathers fell around them—soft, downy things slowly floating from the skies.
Marissa, however, paid him absolutely no mind. She was ducking, her hands flying up above her head as she tried to avoid the birds now flying overhead.
“I’m terrified of ducks!” she yelled, skidding behind his hulking form.
“Terrified of ducks?” he parroted. “Nay one is terrified of ducks!”
“I am,” Marissa protested.
She was cowering behind him, hunkering down as if to block herself entirely from their view.
They didn’t fly far. Apparently, the birds had grown accustomed to her yelling, and many of them fell back into the water, just a little bit farther away than they had been before. With a shake of his head, Arthur turned to face her.
Marissa was still hunkered down, her arms thrown over her head as if to shield herself from an attack that was sure to come any moment. She was shaking, he could see it in every part of her body.
“Ye look more terrified now than ye did when someone threw a knife at yer heart,” he admonished.
Grabbing her hands, he gave them a gentle tug, pulling her up. Marissa shrank back, her eyes wide and fearful as she gazed around him to the loch beyond and the ducks that were no doubt filling her line of sight.
“I was attacked by ducks as a child,” she explained in a shaky voice. “Nearly broke me nose with their terrible beaks. Absolutely foul creatures.”
She gave herself a shake as if a shiver had just run through her, before pointing to her face.
“I still have the scar to prove it.”
