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“I’m not, uhm, well…” I say, stalling for time.
“She hit her ’ead in the fight,” Duncan says.
Relief is a rushing river cooling the flush of my skin. I glance at him and his icy-blue eyes pierce into my soul. That strange fluttering in my stomach comes again but along with it is that gnawing idea that I know him, a sense so strong it’s more like déjà vu than anything else
“Ach, get her to Alesoun then,” Johnne says. “I’ll speak to her after she’s been seen to. Good job, lads. We’ll eat well this winter.”
Good job? Good job on what? Stealing cows?
I wouldn’t think that herding cows is anything unusual or warranting such effusion from the clan chief. Unless… One of my lessons comes back to me. Well, Rob Roy, actually, but it was based on real events. In the movie and from what I’ve read, the MacGregors were famous for stealing cattle.
Is that what they did? Was I rescued from an assault by cattle rustlers? Cattle theft… something about that I should remember. What is it? As hard as I try to remember, it won’t come. This is all too strange.
I’m acutely aware of dozens of eyes staring. Children, women, and men watching their chief and me. Some of the women whisper to each other and stare with unapproving glares. I shift my weight from one foot to the other.
The women all wear rough spun dresses and the men wear kilts that are longer than the ones I’m used to, not stopping at the knee but going down to mid-calf at least. I feel incredibly out of place. It’s almost as if I’ve gone back in time somehow. This is the most immersive reenactment I’ve ever heard of, for sure. No one is dressed like me. There’s not a single pair of jeans in sight.
“Come,” Duncan says. “Let’s get you looked at.”
“You need to have your wounds looked at too,” I say.
“I’m fine,” he says. “Nothing at all, bit of bumps and bruises.”
“You need a doctor,” I say.
“A what?” Duncan asks.
A nearby woman stops working the churn in her hands to stare at me wide-eyed. Other villagers stare too. Nervousness makes my heart rate fast, driving up my blood pressure and making me dizzy. Sweat beads on my forehead. These people take their immersion seriously.
The open stares, bordering on glaring, feels dangerous. Duncan waits patiently for an answer, but I’m in way over my head and floundering.
Chapter Seven
“A healer,” I correct myself. “You need to see a healer.”
“Oh, aye,” Duncan says. “Your accent is very strange. You still do nae remember where you’re from?”
“Uhm, no,” I say, shaking my head as I bite my lip.
I hate lying to him, but I’ve already put my foot in my mouth too many times. I need these people's help if I’m going to get back to my friends. I can’t afford to piss them off.
“Well, Alesoun will fix ya right,” he says. He points the way up the slight hill to the house off by itself. “Right up there.”
He takes off for it, keeping his strides short so I don’t have to rush to keep up, which is thoughtful. The other villagers resume what they were doing. As we walk away there are mutters from some of the women, and I’m pretty sure at least one of them calls me a witch.
“Why is this house away from the others?” I ask, mostly to take my mind off the accusations of being a witch.
He looks around with an almost furtive glance. Only once he’s satisfied no one is close enough to hear what he says, he answers.
“Alesoun is fae touched,” he whispers. “Cannae ’ave her in with the God fearin’ folks.”
“Fae touched?” I ask, a cold chill spreading over my limbs. Obviously, it’s a bad thing and I’ve already been asked more than once if I’m fae touched, whatever that means.
“Aye,” he says. “She’s got the Queen's Gift, sure enough.”
“But you let her live here?” I ask.
“Well, aye, she’s a fine healer, but we cannae ’ave her in the main village, now can we?”
