Page 7 of Following Her Highland Journey (The White Witch’s Apprentices #2)

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" S o she's gone, then," Mor surmised as Fia, exhausted and pale, finished explaining the tale. "Ye directed the child tae get help?"

"I did," Fia replied. "I had tae let her go. I ken…I ken it was sudden, and that she should have telt ye, but…"

Mor smiled, though there was a wise sadness hidden deep in her eyes. "I'm not as surprised as ye think. I kent Adair's heart would pull her from us sooner or later. I had only hoped she'd confide in me before she left."

"Ye will allow her tae return though, won't ye?" Fia asked, a slight anxiety in her tone now. "She served her full year and besides, she's broken none of our rules, only left without warnin'. Adair's home is here."

The old wise woman did not speak for a long time. She walked away from Fia, out of the room and to the stone balcony beyond. Fia paused for a moment, then followed. The two of them looked over the view from here, the top of the monastery that was their home.

They could see the Highlands unfolding before them, the rolling hills covered in dots of purple heather, colorful even in the winter months, the evergreens deep and rich, the deciduous trees high on the hills wearing thick white coats of snow. Smoke rose in the near distance from the local village from which Fia had just returned,

"Adair's home was here, lass," Mor said after a long moment. "But I cannae say for sure that it is anymore, or that it will be again."

"What do you mean? Do ye think she may be hurt?"

Mor considered for a moment more. "I willnae say, for I dinnae ken, Fia. But what I do ken is that Adair's path is her own. And, at least for now, our monastery is no longer a part of it. We must brace ourselves for the fact it may never be again."

Clan Martin was smoldering. The fires had gone out days before, but as Adair crossed the boundaries into Martin land, all the Highland greenery had been replaced with the darkness of smoke and ash.

She passed many groups of refugees on the road, each with a sadder tale than the last. Here, a woman whose son had tried to protect her with no weapon but a garden shovel, and been slaughtered as a result. There, a man limping on a crutch as his kneecap had been shattered while a cruel soldier laughed. And so many times, pregnant women whose husbands would never meet the children in their bellies, elderly people who barely had enough power left in them to stand, and even young children, orphans now, with nowhere to go except to follow the crowds and hope that some sort of respite awaited them.

Each time Adair met these groups, she would stop and open her pack. Some paid her when they could, but unless it was clear they had it to spare, she refused their coin again and again. Her purse and supplies both grew light, and so she allowed pay when she had to, but even then, she kept her prices as low as she possibly could.

A small farm was the first sign of still-settled civilization she met within the clan borders. She was so tired, her feet aching from the endless walking and her back sore from sleeping on the hard ground with only a blanket for company. She had walked nearly four days to get here, electing to deal with the journey rather than trying to spend money on a horse, but her body was beginning to lag with exhaustion. She knew that she still had some days to go before she finally reached the destroyed castle town. Perhaps the farmer, if he was still here, would be kind enough to spare her somewhere to rest for the night.

Adair reached the cottage about ten minutes later, and was discouraged by the lack of the sounds she associated with farms. There were no clucking chickens, no grumbling goats; the place was so silent she would bet there were no animals within miles. The fields were clearly laid out for crops, but now would be sowing season for many grains, and it looked like they'd been disturbed, which could be a serious issue for the spring harvest.

She knocked on the door, nervous about what she would find inside. The door opened after a few moments, and a boy answered. He bore himself like a man, but he was too young yet for more than just a few whiskers on his top lip.

"Have ye not taken enough? We—" He paused. "A lassie. What are ye doin' here?"

If it wasn't for the somber circumstances around her, Adair may have laughed at a boy so much younger than her referring to her as a lassie. However, she kept her expression serious as she said, "Are ye the farmer?"

It broke her heart a little when he simply replied, "Aye." The heavy tone in his voice told the whole story. She wondered if his father had been lost in the fighting, or simply passed to a winter illness. He couldn't have been more than sixteen—just a little younger than Adair herself had been when her father had been taken from her forever.

"I was hopin' for a place tae sleep for the night. I'm headed tae the castle town, but I ken me journey has far tae go," she admitted. "I require a night or two of rest. I can pay, of course, but I?—"

"Ye're goin' toward the castle town?" the boy asked incredulously. "Lady, ye're goin' the wrong way. There's nae castle left, nor barely a town tae speak of. The enemy has left, aye, but it'll be a long time before that place is filled with anythin' but blood and ghosts."

She smiled sadly. "Aye, I ken that's the case. I want tae go there tae see if I can help at all. I'm a healer, ye see. But I cannot heal if me own body gives out."

He regarded her for a moment, his eyes squinting suspiciously. "A healer, ye say? Aye, ye look the part. I may have room for ye, but it would have tae be a trade. I'm in need of yer services for me wee sister."

"Is yer mother home? Yer father?" Adair asked. "Anyone else?"

The boy sighed. "They're gone. They were visitin' the castle town with supplies when it happened. It's just me now, and me wee sister, and the bairn, me brother. He's just four, he doesnae understand what we've lost."

Just like the girl back in the village near the monastery, here was another young person, barely more than a child, left to raise their siblings alone as war had torn the parents away. The thought made Adair almost as furious as it made her desperately sad.

"I will help ye, but not for me board. Allow me tae pay as well," Adair insisted. "What ails yer sister? Was she hurt in the fightin'? Or perhaps she has a fever?"

To her surprise, he blushed a little. "Well, no, it isnae that. She's thirteen, ye see, comin' intae womanhood. And, well…er…we havenae any aunts or womenfolk around us and, well…er…" His blush deepened, and the poor young man looked suddenly wretched and uncertain. "She seems in pain…"

Adair considered his embarrassment and made a guess. "Ye need someone tae help yer sister with a woman's issue?" she suggested delicately. She remembered being twelve or thirteen herself and her poor father appealing to the local girls to guide her through the start of her journey into womanhood. It had been Peggy Ashcroft—Margaret herself—who had explained how these things worked for her.

It was an unexpected side to McNair's destruction. It was easy to think of small children losing their fathers, wives without their husbands, boys shoved into the role of head of the family….but what of the hundreds of girls who had been left motherless as a result of the bloodshed, and now had nobody to guide them through the pains and joys of what it meant to be a woman? Even Adair, who had already been seventeen and fairly full grown when she escaped from McNair's clutches, felt she would have been nothing without Mor's guidance.

The thought made her heart clench. It had been days since the monastery. Was Mor thinking of her? Was she angry? Hurt?

Stay strong, lass, Henry's imaginary voice whispered in her ear. I'm with ye.

The young man's blush deepened. "Can ye help her?"

Adair smiled kindly. "Likely it's just an older woman yer sister needs, not a healer. Luckily, I happen tae be both. Lead the way inside, and dinnae ye worry about it."

That night, when Adair slept on the itchy straw mattress the farm lad had provided for her in exchange for her help, she found herself lost in another memory.

In it, she'd been trapped there in Laird McNair's dungeon for two solid weeks now, with no end in sight. She'd cried and begged and screamed so much that her body felt empty, and she was only sure of one thing: that McNair would have no more of her tears. The only bright spot in her life now was Henry, who was spending every night at her side when he could.

Tonight, he had just finished telling her a story of how three of the guards had teamed up to play a practical joke upon another involving a fish, a handwritten letter, and some women's cosmetics. Adair laughed, shocked and entertained in equal measure by the bawdy nature of the tale.

"Ye're quite the adventurer, Henry," she teased when he was done. "It's a good thing ye're the ones who're the guards, else I suppose ye'd be the prisoner."

He laughed at that. They were sitting together tonight, both inside the cell, their backs pressed up against the wall. Adair had thought more than once about trying to leave when Henry opened the door like this, but she always thought better of it. If she did, Henry would lose everything, and she would not be the cause of that, not on her account. Not when she would probably fail anyway.

"Would ye visit me, were I the prisoner?" he asked her, turning and giving her a quizzical look with those green eyes. "Would ye sing me pretty songs tae pass me time?"

Adair snorted. "Better ask a toad to croak those songs. It will be a more enjoyable time than hearin' me sing."

"Oh come on now! I dinnae believe that!" Henry shook his head. "A lass as pretty and witty as yerself never learned tae hold a tune?"

"And I suppose when ye sing, the birds come flutterin' intae yer outstretched hands, do they?" she shot back, with joking outrage. "The townswomen sigh and the young men beat their chests in agony, kennin' there's nae competin' with a minstrel like yerself."

Henry's eyes sparkled. He made no denial that he loved when she played along like this. "It's true. As soon as I so much as whistle, all the lassies swarm upon me. A lyric from me lips means I could have any woman I wished."

Adair raised an eyebrow. "A bold claim. Will ye sing for me?"

Something shifted behind his eyes, and he didn't drop his gaze. "If what I just said were true, would ye still want tae hear me song? Would ye nae worry about bein' seduced?"

"A poor thief steals that which is laid out before him to take," Adair replied. She spoke airily, playing it off as another joke, but she knew he heard the truth in it as much as she had meant it. This was their game, edging closer to the fact that her heart yearned for him and, if she was not mistaken, he felt the same way. Each time, they'd get closer and closer to the point, closer and closer to admitting their feelings, until?—

Henry cleared his throat. "I cannae stay the whole night. The captain gave me the night off, and if I refuse it, it'll look more than suspicious. Drew, who'll replace me for the night, is a nice lad, dinnae worry. He willnae chat, but he willnae bother ye either."

Adair's weariness, so often lightened by Henry's presence, returned in an instant. She knew she should tell him it was all right, that she should let him go, and yet…

"Stay with me. Please," she whispered. "I need ye here."

And even though he should have gone, that was all the persuading he needed. As she'd fallen asleep, she'd mumbled an apology, but she'd heard his reply before the exhaustion took her.

"As long as ye need me, Adair, I'll always be here."

Adair ended up spending two days at the farm, not only to help the young girl, Sadie, with her issue, but also to teach both older siblings some recipes, basic treatments and remedies, and other things they would need to know moving ahead. The older boy, Joe, appreciated her help darning some torn clothing for them, and the four-year-old, little Charlie, followed Adair around like a little duck for those two days.

Once she was sure that the children would be able to look after themselves, at least for the most important things, she knew it was time to move on. Part of her longed to stay, just as she had longed to stay with Margaret, just as she had longed to stay back at the monastery. But she knew that she could not simply stay put, not now. If anything, each stop, each person she'd helped, each heartbreak she'd learned, had simply strengthened her resolve.

"Must ye go?" Sadie asked as she watched Adair pack away some of the food that she'd bought from Joe's surprisingly filled stores. The boy had been smart and hidden what he could before the soldiers had reached his homestead.

"I have tae," Adair told her. "Make sure ye chew that herb every night tae relieve the pain. I've left enough tae see out the winter months, and some seeds tae help ye grow yer own come spring. And keep up what ye're doin' with wee Charlie. Ye and yer big brother are goin' tae manage just fine so long as ye stay together."

"And ye?" Sadie asked her, squeezing her hand. "Will ye manage just fine? Even though ye're alone?"

Adair forced a smile. "Dinnae worry about me, pet," she assured her, though her stomach clenched.

Ye're not alone, Adair. Ye have me. Ye ken I'm more than just a voice in yer head.

Adair ignored that. She knew it was her imagination, but she couldn't deny it felt like there was something more behind it too. Not something supernatural, exactly, but a realness , not to the voice itself, but to the meaning behind it. Could this be the proof in her heart that Henry really was alive? Or was it, as was much more likely, just the wishful thinking of a girl who had lost or abandoned all else?

Sadie was still watching her, so Adair gave her a conspirational wink.

"I was trained by a witch, ye ken," Adair confided in her, deliberately making her voice sound mystical. She wasn't sure how far she believed in anything beyond the natural world, but she knew that Mor was something special. Most likely the woman was just a dedicated healer who had trained them to be the same, but Adair had to admit that a little part of her, slim as it might be, hoped that there may be some magic in them all after all.

She would need it for the next part of her journey.