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“Is it a bad thing?” I ask, chewing my lower lip.
“I don’t know.” She shakes her head, then drops her skirts and looks around the cavern.
Broken people lie on their pallets or shamble about, accomplishing little. I know from my modern viewpoint that the survivors are dealing with PTSD. They’re overwhelmed by the loss and horror that they’ve been through. Most of the clan are working to build stores for the impending winter. Those who can, compartmentalize or otherwise deal with the stress in some manner.
“Can you blame them?” I ask, speaking as softly as she. “They’ve been betrayed. Everything they knew, everything they believed, has been taken from them. They need answers. Besides, maybe they’re right. The Fae and the old ways could hold forgotten answers.”
“Hush your tongue, lass,” she hisses.
“Alesoun,” I lean in. “You’re as Fae touched as I am. I’ve seen it in you. How can you deny it?”
“Ach, I am a good Christian woman. The Lord Almighty is my savior.”
Fear widens her eyes and her lips tremble. She’s scared and I’m pushing her towards accepting a part of herself she’s spent a lifetime denying. Part of me wants to push. Shove the truth down her throat because she’s my friend and I don’t want to see her live a lie.
That part of me is stupid and petty. What right do I have to take what comfort she has? It’s not my decision to make.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “It was a thought. That’s all.”
“You’ll do well to keep such thoughts to yourself.” I force a smile onto my face and nod. The tension drops from her stance, and she bows her head. “I’m afraid, Quinn.”
The admission is a stone thrown into a pond, rippling in the air between us as it hits with a thunk. I do the only thing I can think of and pull her into an embrace, holding her tight. We don’t hold on for long, there’s too much to be done, but she seems better when we part.
“I’m going to go gather herbs,” I say.
“Ach, that’d be good. If you come across a willow, we need more bark for numbing pain.” She looks around then moves in close again. “And valerian if you see any.”
“Valerian; isn’t that the white flower on long stalks?”
“Aye, they can be pink too. You want the roots, not the blooms or stalks.”
“For stress, right?”
“Aye, lass. I’ll make a healer of you yet.”
I smile, thinking of how much more I would have known if I’d stayed on my path to be a doctor in modern times, but then there are so many things that Alesoun knows I never would have learned. She does miracles with what is available to her.
“Right, I’ll be back,” I say.
I grab a small basket from the line of them by the wall and leave the cave. Outside the cave the camp is bustling with activity. Storing food, mending clothes, churning butter, if I didn’t know better it would look like any normal Highland village of the time.
There is a trail that leads up and along the cliff, then deeper into the Highlands. I take it because going lower is too dangerous. Even though I know I’m more likely to find what I’m looking for in the richer ground there, I’d also risk finding hunters looking to capture or kill MacGregors.
As I walk the sun rises, dispersing the morning mists. The warmth, broad blue sky, and the fresh air are a welcome relief. I breathe deeply for what feels like the first time since I returned. Not far from the crest of the cliff is a standing stone. I glance at it, knowing this is a connection point to the lands of the Fae. For a heartbeat I’m tempted to touch it, but no. Not today, Fae, not today.
Around the stone I find some moss that Alesoun will be able to use, and a couple of hours more into my hike I come across a scraggly, stubborn willow tree clinging to life. It’s growing up from a crack in the solid stone ground. I scrape some bark from it using a small belt knife then resume my journey.
Having time to let my thoughts wander, they’re never far from Duncan. I know, with absolute, unshakable certainty, he’s alive. There is no logical reason for it, but I know it as well as I know the sun will rise in the morning. It’s a truth that is beyond debate. But where he is, what he is enduring, and how I will find him, those are the questions I don’t have answers to.
The basket slowly fills with useful herbs, flowers, and tree bark as I traverse the Highlands until I’m on the far side of the mountain and working my way down towards the shores. The horizon becomes the ocean and the sounds of the waves crashing against the cliff and coast fills the air. The land becomes less rocky with richer soil, which leads to finding more plants that Alesoun and I can use.
As I gather a bit of foxglove for my basket, I hear a raven caw and my heart leaps into my throat. Jumping up I spin around and there it is. The large black bird sits on a boulder staring with its head tilted, the glassy black eye unblinking, its beak partway open. Then it caws again and flaps its wings.
“Dugald?” I ask, looking around for the Fae.
I’m alone but I notice a cave not far off to my left. Something about the dark hole grabs my attention and a cold chill creeps over my skin despite the warmth of the sun beating down. I look at the bird, but it offers no insight.
Picking up my basket I walk towards the cave, drawn forward while at the same time feeling repelled. The black circle of its mouth grows larger and more ominous the closer I come. A sense of wrongness itches deep in my head like a throbbing sore tooth I can’t not touch. The chill on my skin grows until I’m shivering but I force myself to approach.
