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“Aye, you do nae. Listen, you do nae want to offend the fae folk. Especially you. They’ve touched ya, I don’t know how it is in your place and time, but this is when and where you are. If you’n offend them, they’ll make ya pay.”
I swallow my mouthful of stew, forcing it past the lump in my throat and the cold knot of ice at the top of my stomach.
“Make me pay?”
“Aye, and you’ll nae be knowing when it’s coming. The fair ones don’t work directly like that, but your luck will sure turn for the worse. That I can promise ya.”
“Right.”
A chill traces down my spine when I hear a raven caw agreement from outside the house.
Chapter Eleven
Alesoun’s exasperation is clear in both her voice and her body language. She stands over me with one hand on her hip and a deep frown, staring at the tangled knot of wool on the spinning wheel.
The sun has barely crested the horizon, but Alesoun and I are in front of her house where she has moved her spinning wheel out for better light and air. I haven’t seen many of the men in the village this morning so they must be off on some other duties. Earlier I was trying to spot Duncan but, Alesoun called me out on looking for him, making me blush and sputter denials that I was not doing any such thing.
“If you do nae know how to spin, then can you do the mending?” Alesoun asks.
“Uhm, maybe?” Warmth flushes my face and chest. I can’t meet the frustration in her eyes. I assume she means handling a needle and thread which I’ve never done in my life. But how hard can it be?
“Ach, do you nae have any skill at all? How did ya survive this long?” She shakes her head, closes her eyes, and takes a deep breath. “Ya can gather eggs, can’t ya? Or is even tha beyond ya?”
“I think so,” I say.
The judging eyes of the village women watch the two of us without even pretending to not. I feel their eyes burning into my back.
“Ya think so? Well, can ya or can’t ya? I don’t want ya bringing back snake eggs or some other horridness.”
“Chickens, right?” I ask, looking around at the free ranging chickens wandering around the homes.
Alesoun nods.
“Where do they lay their eggs?”
Alesoun rolls her eyes and huffs. “Look round the houses. They’ll be up by the walls normally and in warm spots where they’ll get plenty of sun.”
She hands me a basket that’s made of woven branches and shoos me off to do the work. I’ve never gathered eggs before in my life. I, like any proper person, buy my eggs in a grocery store. I wasn’t raised on a farm. I’ve never been far outside a city in my life. What do I know of chickens?
Still, all I can do is my best. Though the mention of snakes makes my skin crawl. Snake eggs? Ugh, gross. The image of cracking an egg and a snake falling out turns my stomach.
I hook the handle of the basket in the crook of my arm and gather up the front of the long skirt that Alesoun gave me so I won’t trip, then head on my way to gather eggs. I go around her house. The grass close to the houses is kept short by the grazing cattle and the two goats that roam freely around the village.
It seems odd that they don’t pen up the animals. I’ve driven across the Midwest often enough to have seen the long rows of fencing that kept cows off the roads and such, but I guess they don’t need that here. There are no cars and no roads worthy of the name that I’ve seen, and where would the cattle go? Except for being thieved by a rival clan. That’s pretty common from what I’ve studied which was reaffirmed by Thomas Colquhoun taunting Duncan. As I recall, the MacGregors were historically among the most famous of cattle thieves. I’ve watched Rob Roy enough times even though it isn’t one hundred percent historically accurate.
Something white-ish catches my attention. I kneel and part some grass. Tucked into a tuft of grass lies three eggs. A giggle slips out of me as excitement tingles along my limbs. I gather the eggs and carefully place them in the basket.
I did it! I’ve successfully done something.
Pride fills me as I stand up. This must be the feeling of a hunter knowing he’s fed his family with his skill. The first hints of confidence coming, I continue my hunt for eggs. I search around Alesoun’s house then head to the next closest house. Several women are sitting in front and they don’t bother trying to hide their stares as I walk down the path. Stomach fluttering, I put on a friendly smile and wave as I come closer.
“Good morning,” I say.
The four women sitting on short stools frown and look at the one who appears to be the oldest. She’s a larger woman. Her face is worn, wearing her years heavily. She’s working a butter churn but stops at my approach. She stares, looking me up and down as if seeing me for the first time. She frowns deeply, obviously not liking what she sees. An urge to runaway surges in my thoughts and it takes all my will to continue standing in front of them smiling.
“What is it ya be wanting?” she asks. Her voice is gravelly and rough.
The other ladies with her don’t speak. They watch the exchange between the two of us like they’re at a tennis match. A flush spreads across my chest and rises onto my cheeks. I keep my smile firmly in place despite the embarrassment.
