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“No!” I throw my hands in the air. “This is crazy. It can’t be happening, not to me. Why me? How? God, what is going on?”
“Take a seat. You’ll be attracting attention.”
She points at the seat in front of her. I glare at the stool as if it might be the culprit that has done this to me. Numbness spreads icy fingers out from my chest and down my limbs. I drop onto the stool in front of her, unable to take a full breath. The hard packed dirt floor holds most of my attention.
How many feet have walked over it to make it this hard? I wonder inanely.
“This can’t be,” I mutter.
“Can it not?” she asks, as she places both hands on my shoulders and grips firmly. “When you’re dealing with the Fair Folks, anything can be.”
I shake my head but I’m unable to avoid looking into her eyes.
“But, how?”
“Ach, I do nae know.” She shakes her head. “How does the grass grow? The wind blow? It’s tha Fae. They do as they will.”
I could answer her questions but then what is the point? She wouldn’t believe and it doesn’t bring me any closer to understanding how I got here. Or maybe that is the wrong question. Maybe I need to ask a completely different one.
“Why?” The question bursts off my tongue the moment I think of it.
“Why what, lass?”
“Why me? If I can’t know how, then why? Why did this happen to me?”
“Lass, there’s not knowing that either,” she says, cupping my cheeks. “I feel it in ya though. You’re touched, like me. You’ve got the fae blood in your veins, sure enough.”
Her hands are impossibly warm and comforting. Almost as if they pulsate with a strange energy. Distantly, I hear the raven cawing. Or maybe I feel it. I don’t know. Fae blood. Mom told me tales of changelings and other myths of the Fae, but those were stories.
One way or another, I’m here. How and why, though important questions, aren’t going to help me survive. I need answers and I’m not going to find them sitting here with Alesoun. She doesn’t have them. I don’t know who does, but I’m going to find them and I’m going to find my way home.
Inhaling a deep breath, I hold it for a count of ten then let it out slowly. It helps to calm my thoughts and focus my mind. Alesoun sits back on her stool and watches, waiting for me to speak or argue.
“Okay,” I say, trying to reach a point of acceptance no matter how crazy all of this seems. “What do I do now?”
“The village folk aren’t going to be accepting of a fae touched,” Alesoun says, leaning back in and speaking softly. “They’re god fearin’ folk and will nae look kindly on having another one of the fae folk in their midst.”
I think of the distance of her house, which sets so far off from the others. Duncan had said she’s fae touched too.
“You're touched,” I say.
“Aye,” she agrees. “I can do a bit of healin’ and such. I’m useful so they let me live here, but they’re not going to be welcoming of another, not if they know the truth. Worse still if they be thinking you’re a witch, it will go bad for ya.”
“Right.” I nod. The women of the village were already muttering about that, and it was clear how well that would go over. All my study of this era also tells me that being declared a witch is the last thing in the world I want. “How do I avoid that?”
“We’ll need to get ya some better clothes,” Alesoun says. “Your clothes stand out like the devil’s sign and calls more attention to yourself. It does ya no favors with the womenfolk anyway. It’s as if you’re showing off every asset god gave ya for free.”
“They’re jeans,” I say, looking down, then stop myself from saying more.
Jeans won’t be invented for, well, a lot of years and it’ll be even longer before women will wear pants of any kind. Alesoun stares, waiting with one eyebrow arched.
“Aye? And?”
“Right,” I say, shoulders slumping. “Do you have, uhm, something?”
“Aye, I think I’ve got something that will fit ya.”
She goes to her bed. There’s a chest I didn’t notice before at the end which she opens and digs through, pulling out a pile of clothing. She holds up a dress, testing the size to my frame. Several tsking sounds later, and she helps me to change into it. I’m unfamiliar with the style and make, but it more or less fits. Once I’ve slipped into the dress, she picks up a needle and thread to take it in at the waist and chest. When she’s done, I’m at last dressed in more period appropriate wear.
