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He knew Callan was thinking the same thing he was: what about Nora? Why is she nae goin’ with me? Is she nae Lady McKay anymore?
“We can handle this problem, nae?” Jonan asked, wanting to ensure his friend supported him.
"Aye," Callan replied confidently.
The villagers were quiet when they saw himride into the village after news of what had happened at the keep.
“Good mornin’ milaird,” someone managed to sayand everyone followed suit.
“I needthe help of strong men and womento help repair the roofs of our huts.”
“We have nae enough wood,” the carpenter said.
“Then we shall get wood. I shall lead some of the men into the forest,” Jonan declared. "Ye shall accompany me," he announced to Callan.
Upon hearing this, his friend looked at him with stunned eyes.
“I need to empty the thoughts in me head, Callan,” Jonan explained.
“Alright, milaird."
Jonan, with an axe in hand, chopped down trees for hours. Even when many of the men had gone, he persisted— needing to keep himself occupied.
Soon enough, Jonan’s fury was obvious to everyone. He groaned as he hacked at the tree bark, his muscles threatening to fall off his tired bones.
"The sun is settin', milaird," an elderly man told him.
Jonan dropped his axe, blinkingaway his tiredness, his chest heaving with exhaustionbefore he returnedhis attention to the man.
"The villagers have plenty of wood, milaird," the man added.
Jonan looked around, a feeling of displeasure flooding him; he wasn't ready to go back and face Nora yet.
"Some of the villagers may require firewood." He said andgrabbed his axe once more.
“They have firewood.”
“For the keep, then.”
“Ye must face yer woman,” the elderly man dared to say.
Jonan looked to the old man — his expression harbored no malice yet he felt anger toward him for daring to speak to him this way, or for speaking about it in general.
“What do ye speak of, old man?” Jonan asked.
“Ye should never leave a woman in her grief. If ye vex her, ye must face her. If she vexes ye, ye must face her. Her happiness is yer happiness, milaird,” the man explained.
He speaks the truth.
“Thank ye,” Jonan replied.
Jonan mounted his horse and began riding back home, thinking about Nora as the chilly evening breeze crashed against his skin. He craved her touch and caress.
She wished to protect her sister. He believed but it did little to stem the hurt in his chest.
Once he arrived at the keep, Nora was nowhere to be seen.
"Welcome, milaird," the servants greeted.
