She did not ken, but she would never give up on her quest for revenge against the three miscreants. In fact, now she wanted twice as much revenge against Torr. She didn't know how Torr had killed Alpin, but he'd done the deed while Wilona had been inside. And she had yet to find the keek-stane. Her enemies were gaining the upper hand.
She had to reclaim control of the situation.
When most of the humans below disappeared into the castle, she launched from the tree and flew quickly to the manor house.
After returning to her human form, she built up the fire, rested, and ate some leftover bread. She heated the kettle for some restorative herbal tea.
'Twas daybreak, and the house remained silent. Where were the servants? Oh, aye, she had given them the week off so they wouldn't spy on her.
In the quiet, the realization she would never see Alpin again engulfed her. She had not been in love with him, but she'd grown attached to him. She'd depended on his help and companionship. Having an ally who wanted the same things she did had strengthened her.
But she refused to become weak. She refused to let her enemies win!
She must visit the woman who had sold her the keek-stane. 'Haps Dolag had another keek-stane she would be willing to sell. Or a spell to help her regain her old one.
Wilona must gather enough strength to shift into a bird and fly swiftly to the old woman's mountain cottage. There was no time to waste.
After disrobing, Wilona opened her window and murmured the appropriate incantation. Her body transformed into that of a tiny, quick bird. She felt lighter than a feather as she flapped her wings and flew higher. A small creature would not require as much energy as a large one, and she could maintain the form longer.
Sometime later, her instincts told her she was nearing Dolag's cottage in the highest mountains. Wilona noticed the thatched roof below and the peat smoke surrounding it. She was relieved, for her wings grew tired. She descended quickly and landed upon the ground outside the cottage door. Mental exhaustion near overwhelmed her as she shifted back into her human self.
A fearsome dog bark startled her, and she leapt to her feet. 'Twas a medium-sized mutt with patchy fur, baring his teeth. Wilona flattened herself against the stone wall of the cottage. When had the hag gotten a dog?
"What is it, lad?" Dolag shouted as she opened the door. Her startled gaze darted to Wilona and her naked body. "Och! M'lady, what on earth? I'll fetch you a blanket." She disappeared inside. Wilona followed her, yearning to escape the riled dog, then closed the door behind her.
"I am in dire straits, Dolag," she blurted.
"What happened?" The old woman scurried forward, a woolen blanket spread out to wrap around her.
Although the blanket was scratchy and smelled like a dirty sheep, Wilona welcomed the warmth. "Mine enemies... my son's murderers... are gaining the upper hand." She sank onto a stool near the fire.
"Och, nay! How did this happen?" Dolag asked.
"Gavin MacTavish has banished the spell that I cast over him. And now, when I choose a different form, I often return to my natural human form before I wish it. And furthermore, Torr MacElrath and his whore have stolen my keek-stane."
Dolag silently shook her head in dismay, her stained ivory kertch flapping over her silvery hair.
"Do you have another keek-stane I could purchase?"
"Nay, m'lady, I regret that I do not."
Disappointment engulfing her, Wilona ground her teeth. "What must I do? I have to regain the upper hand."
Dolag took a short stool nearby. "As you ken, I have little experience with the ancient dark arts. I was taught them as a young lass, but I'll nay practice them. They're too dangerous for my liking. I heeded the king's dire warning about witchcraft."
Wilona scoffed. "I have nay fear of the dark arts nor the king. I want to strengthen my abilities. Do you ken more spells?"
Dark eyes widening, Dolag hesitated.
Annoyance and impatience grated on Wilona's nerves. "My son's murderers are getting away with their heinous crime. They will never be punished."
"Did you report them to the authorities?" Dolag asked.
"Nay." Wilona craved her own brand of revenge. Besides that, her brother-in-law, the new MacRae chief, sympathized with the three murderers, two of whom were also chiefs. "'Twould be nay benefit to report them. Injustice is rampant in the Highlands."
"'Tis true." The old woman nodded.
"I cannot bear it. I miss my son so much." Wilona did, in truth, but the anger felt better than the grief and sadness.
