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“Oh, aye, sorry. Did nae mean to startle you.”
“Well, you did,” I snap.
“Aye, I see that.” He suppresses his laughter but his smile and the sparkle in his eyes give the lie to his straight face. A small grin breaks through. “I do apologize.”
“It’s fine,” I say, dropping my fists and straightening up.
Alesoun stands a couple strides ahead, watching the two of us. She walks back to her house.
“Aren’t you coming along?” I ask.
“No, I do nae think so,” she says. “I best stay here and tend to my herbs.”
I stare at Alesoun, trying to decipher if I’ve done something wrong already. She doesn’t seem angry or upset but I don’t know her well. She smiles and nods towards Duncan.
“I’ll take ya to the chief,” Duncan says, offering me his arm.
I look at his arm for a long moment before stepping to him and hooking mine under and over. As my arm settles on his, that same spark that happened before repeats. Now it’s more than a casual contact that quickly passes; it’s a fiery heat racing through my limb towards my core.
I gasp in surprise, leaning away from him but not breaking the contact of our arms.
Duncan looks as surprised as I feel judging by how wide his eyes are and the way he stares at our arms. A crow caws, breaking the moment. The bird sits on the crest of Alesoun’s house. It tilts its head, one black eye glistening. I swear it’s staring at me. Which is possibly the least weird thing of the last few days, except it looks an awful lot like the same bird from my time. Did it travel too?
“Static,” I say, shrugging and trying to rationalize the sensation.
“Aye,” Duncan exhales. “We should nae keep the chief waiting.”
He leads us down the worn path to the main village. Children laugh as they play, running around, chasing each other, and tossing homemade balls. Their laughter rings in the crystal-clear Highland air warming my heart. The pure joy they take in being alive is infectious and it brings a smile to my face.
“Duncan! Duncan!”
Three young boys race up to us.
The one in the lead of the pack has shoulder-length dark hair, big eyes, and a wide grin that shows a missing front tooth. “Lemme carry your sword.”
“And why would I let you carry my sword?” Duncan asks, stopping and taking a knee so he’s eye level with the boy.
“I’m gonna kill some Campbells,” the boy says seriously. “They’ll nae be taking our land again. Or our cows.”
The boy places both hands on his hips, squares his shoulders, and stands straight and proud.
“Aye,” Duncan says. “You’re right, Ian. You’ll be taking care of Campbells in no time. But ya need to remember something.”
“What’s that?” Ian asks.
“Every battle is won here first,” Duncan says, tapping the boy on his forehead with two fingers. “And here second.”
He taps the boy on the chest over his heart. “And every time ya have to wield your sword, you take a wound there that will stay with ya to the end of your days.”
He taps the boy's chest again.
“Aye, but a warrior has to fight,” Ian says.
“Aye, he does, lad. You’re right, sure enough. But that doesn’t mean you ever lose sight of the truth, now does it? You do nae kill for pleasure, nor fun in any way. You do that and you’re no better than those Campbell dogs, are ya?”
“I’m no Campbell—I'm MacGregor!” Ian exclaims with great pride.
“That you are, lad.” Duncan laughs and musses the boy's hair. “And a MacGregor is what?”
