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“Ye have had a nightmare, though I hope yer scream did nae rouse some distant enemy. Perhaps we should move on from here,” Murdina said, glancing nervously around her.
“It was no nightmare. I know it was real. It is a memory–something I have seen, a place I have been. I cannot rid myself of the image,” he exclaimed, clutching at his brow as though trying to pull the memory from his mind.
Kin had tried so hard to remember and recall those things buried in the mist. Could his dreams be the answer to these memories? There was a deep trauma here, a suffering such as he had never imagined. Had these people suffered because of him? Had he been powerless to help them? To remember, but through a mist, was worse than the blindness of a fog. It was as though he held the pieces but had no way of joining them into a whole. Murdina was looking at him anxiously, and he shook his head and sighed.
“I will listen if it would help?” she said, and he gave her a weak smile.
“It is only I who can remember, and now I feel more confused than ever,” he said, rising to his feet and gazing out over the moorland.
The wilderness of the heathers seemed an apt place for such a feeling. Kin was in the wilderness of his mind, and the thought of further revelations filled him with dread. He was afraid to go back to sleep, afraid of what might appear in his mind’s eye if his waking turned to dreams.
“We should press on; perhaps we can make camp in the daylight and sleep awhile then,” Murdina said, still glancing anxiously around her.
“Yes, I think so,” Kin said, though his thoughts were far from the matter at hand.
They packed up their meager possessions, strapping them to the pony, and Murdina scuffed out the fire, covering the site it over with armfuls of moss and heather so that there was no sign of their having been there.
“North?” Murdina asked, pointing in the direction they had been walking earlier that day, and Kin nodded, stepping forward and pulling the pony by the tether attached to the muzzle he had fashioned.
“To Mull, and, I hope, further answers,” he replied, even if the thought of discovering more about himself filled him with an unpleasant sense of foreboding.
* * *
Murdina was worried about Kin. He had barely spoken since they had left the campsite earlier that night, and the memory of his horrific scream was enough to send a shiver down her spine. It was that which had broken her own peaceful sleep, and the panic in Kin’s face was like nothing she had ever seen before. He had been terrified by the vision in his mind, a vision he claimed to be a living memory rather than a nightmarish terror of the night.
They had continued following the path they had earlier taken across the moorland. It led over a wide, open plain, fording streams here and there and avoiding the worst parts of the marshland, which would have bogged them down in muddy water to their knees had they stepped into it. The heather now gave way to rough pasture, where sheep grazed, and in the distance, a settlement was silhouetted on a far-off hill.
“We should make west a little more to avoid those crofts,” Murdina said, for they were still journeying through lands which felt the influence of her father’s hand–betrayal could come at any moment.
“Yes, show us the way,” Kin said, sounding entirely disinterested.
They had been walking in almost complete silence for the past two hours, and Murdina was growing tired of Kin’s moody dwellings.
“Ye should agree to it, too. I am nae leadin’ us if tis’ only to a dead-end for which I am blamed,” she said, catching him by the arm.
He turned to look at her, his brow furrowed. She could tell he was not really at her side, his thoughts on some distant memory–the memory he had described of the terrible fire.
“You are right. We need to go west. We need to avoid any settlements, though we shall certainly need direction at some point. We will need to make for a port if we are to find a boat to take us across to Mull. We should try to follow the coast as best we can,” he said, and Murdina nodded.
“I know ye are preoccupied with yer dream. But tis’ only right ye have a hand in our journey. Tis’ ye who must go there,” she said, and he shook his head and sighed.
“And what if I find something I do not wish to find there,” he replied.
“Is that nae the point? Ye know nothin’ of what ye might find there. Tis’ a mystery for us both,” she said, and Kin nodded.
“You are right. But I… I cannot drag you into that, can I?” he said, and Murdina shrugged.
“Have I nae made it clear to ye I am glad to be yer companion?” she asked, and he smiled at her.
“You have made it very clear. Come, we should not linger. We shall make for the west and the coast, and we shall find a place to make camp for the first half of the day. We are both tired, but it would not do to make camp here on these pastures. The crofters will no doubt rise early to tend the sheep, and it would not do to be seen by them,” he replied, and pointing to the right, he marched on with Murdina following behind.
But despite his attempts to liven himself, Murdina knew that Kin remained deeply troubled. When he spoke, he had something of a far-off tone in his voice, and as he walked, his head was bowed in contemplation. Murdina knew he was trying desperately to remember, and she hoped there might be something more she could do to help him. But she also knew that Kin was right–these were his memories, and nothing she could do would bring them to the fore if they were destined to remain lost. As the night turned to dawn, Murdina wondered if she would ever truly know him or if he would ever truly know himself once more–they had shared such intimacy, and yet even in that, there was so much more to discover…
