He didn’t answer, pushing the boat toward the water before stopping. “Do ye wantae eat before you go?”
She nodded in response. “I’m starving.”
“Get a fire going. I’ll trap us some rabbits. We passed a warren back there.”
“Get a fire going? What with?”
He muttered something under his breath, already turning away.
“What?” She tried again. “What did you say?”
“Find some kindling. Ah’ll do the rest.”
He headed back up the hillside leaving Lindsey alone. She walked over to the boat and examined it. Would it survive a trip to the island? The last thing she wanted was to fall out and end up soaking wet for the second time in one day.
She prodded the wooden planks which creaked in response. Don’t think about it, she told herself, turning away to search for firewood.
By the time Tavish got back the light had almost died. She had a decent sized pile of wood ready for him when he walked down the hillside. “Two rabbits,” she said as he joined her by the woodpile. “You provide quite a feast.”
“We might have tae wait until morning,” he said, looking at the sky, the last of the light fading below the horizon. “To row across.” He knelt by the fire and began tearing shreds of bark to make kindling.
“Oh. Can’t we do it in the dark?”
“Not if we want tae find the island.” He began scraping a flint toward the kindling, sparks shooting across to the scraps of bark.
“It can’t be that hard can it?”
“Big loch, wee island. Eat. Sleep. Then leave.”
She looked at the fire which was already catching, heat thawing her chilled hands. Her stomach rumbled loudly.
She turned away as he effortlessly skinned and prepared the rabbits. She was used to her meat drizzled in oil, not scraped from the skin.
When she looked back again, he was using a long stick from the woodpile as a spit. Soon the air was filled with the smell of roasting meat. Lindsey’s stomach growled all the louder.
“You’re going back tae your time?” Tavish asked out of nowhere.
Lindsey glanced up to see him looking down at the fire, poking the flames back into life.
“Hopefully. Wait until I tell my mom I met you. She’ll never believe me.”
“Why does she care?”
“My mom loves you. She swears you didn’t do it.”
“Didnae dae what?”
“Kill the princess. She says you were innocent.”
“What do you ken?”
“I’m not sure.”
His voice was still a bear’s growl but somehow seemed softer. “She’s right, you ken? Ah didnae do it.”
