Page 35

“Hamish,” the mother said.

He did a thorough examination of the boy’s body, from his head, where he found another bump on the back, to his arms, torso, and legs. Other than scratches, both shallow and deep, the only injuries of concern were the blows to the head.

“I require water and ale,” Camden instructed moving to the family’s kitchen table. There he unpacked his case, placing the mortar and pestle on the surface as well as jars of tincture and some dried herbs.

The family was silent, watching him intently. Camden was used to it, when injuries happened, people placed all their hope on a healer. As intense as the moment was, he didn’t mind. In his estimation, it was a good thing for them to be distracted and give the sick person room to heal and not be so focused upon.

The fragrance of the herbs mixed with ale and water soon filled the room. He poured half of it into a bowl and added vervain and a bit of water to make a poultice. He then mixed St. John’s Wort with the ale to give to the boy orally.

After washing the boy’s wounds out, he applied the poultice and wrapped his head. Then with the aid of the father, he carefully trickled a bit of the tonic at a time into his mouth. Most of it dribbled out of the corner of the boy’s mouth. All he could do was hope he managed to swallow a bit.

For the next few hours, Camden remained by the boy’s cot, taking note of his breathing and searching for any signs of awareness.

Later that evening, the children were put to bed and the other two adults, who turned out to be the father’s brother and his wife, left. The sick boy’s mother leaned back against the wall and closed her eyes, whilst the father remained vigilant.

Camden rubbed his knuckles gently against the boy’s mid chest. “Hamish, can ye hear me?”

He’d lost count of how many times he’d done this, each time without any response. When the boy moaned softly, he and the parents looked at each other with wide-eyed expressions.

“Hamish,” the mother went to the boy. “Open yer eyes for me dear one.”

Again the boy murmured incoherently.

The woman smiled at Camden. “I dinnae ken what he said, but he is coming round.”

“Aye, he is.” Camden smiled back.

Although it seemed a long stretch of time, it was probably less than an hour by the time the lad’s eyes opened, and he looked around confused. “Why am I in here?”

“Ye fell and bumped yer head. Ye have been asleep,” the father explained hugging the child to his chest. “Hamish, ye scared us to death.”

It wasn’t a long trek to his home, the narrow path winding like a pale ribbon through the forest. Ancient trees pressed close on either side, some of their branches knitting together overhead. It was a starless night, which was strange to see only the full moon above, round and brilliant, its silver light slipping through gaps in the canopy of trees and painting the forest in soft shades of ash and pearl.

The air was rich and damp, heavy with the scent of moss, pine, and wet earth. It must have rained while he was in the cottage with the sick boy.

Branches reached out and brushed against his boots as the horse moved at a steady, unhurried pace, hooves muffled by layers of fallen needles and decaying leaves. Camden didnae urge the animal faster. One careless step in the darkness could mean injury, and he trusted the horse’s instincts.

A sudden shiver rippled through him.

Camden frowned, his spine tightening as a strange awareness crept over his skin, as though the forest itself had drawn a slow, measured breath. The night seemed to still. The usual chorus of insects faded to nothing.

Like that time he was with Brae in the woods, and he had the distinct sensation of being watched.

Carefully, he turned in the saddle, scanning the shadowed depths between the trees. If it were a lone wolf, the horse would be enough to frighten it off. A pack, however, was a different story. His jaw tightened at the thought. And yet by the horse’s calmness, it wasn’t danger that lurked.

Then he saw it. To his left, a faint glow flickered between the trunks, soft at first, almost uncertain. Camden slowed the horse, squinting into the forest, hoping to see what caused the light. The light dimmed, then swelled brighter, swaying gently as though carried by an unseen hand. Like a lantern moving forward and back.

Strange for anyone to be wandering the forest so late. Perhaps someone searching for a lost soul. Or a dog gone astray.

Camden was about to urge the horse onward when the glow suddenly flared, so bright it forced him to shield his eyes. The forest around him vanished in a wash of white brilliance.

And then he saw it.

A tall standing stone loomed among the trees, split clean down its center as though struck by some ancient force. From the opening poured the most radiant light he had ever seen. Pure. Luminous. Breathtakingly beautiful. It cast long, trembling shadows across the forest floor.

“What in the Lord’s name is that?” Camden asked out loud.

Camden’s heart hammered as he swung down from the saddle, boots sinking soundlessly into the forest floor. The horse shifted uneasily behind him, snorting low, but Camden murmured a calming word and stepped away, drawn forward despite every sensible warning whispering in his mind.