She walked down the steps slowly, the air becoming colder the further she descended.
At the bottom was a solid wooden door. "I can’t believe I’m doing this," she said out loud as she tried the door. It was locked, of course. She was about to go back up when something occurred to her. She reached into her pocket bringing out the silver key. "I can’t believe I’m even trying this," she said as she turned the key.
It was ridiculous of course. The silver keys in her mom’s stories had been an invention, just a way of getting the characters from the present to the past. She knew that. That was why she’d used them in her books. They were a method of time travel for fictional characters. That was all. They weren’t real.
"Nothing’s going to happen," she said out loud.
The door swung open and she stepped through into the darkness, leaving the key forgotten in the lock.
In two steps she had walked out of the present day and into the past. The door closed slowly behind her.
2
Lennox MacGregor’s day began with a boar hunt. It ended in a dungeon with a mysterious woman in his arms. All he’d been trying to do was catch the beast that had caused so many problems for the clan.
Three children had been killed in the village of Cromarty in the last month. Several of the peasants had attempted to catch the boar responsible but none of them had been successful as the boar kept retreating across the border onto English land.
Finally, they’d come to tell the Laird. Ross had shrugged and told them there wasn’t much that could be done except petition the king.
Lennox disagreed . He knew what could be done. Hunt it down.
The beast was a lot like the English. Sneaking in during the night, causing chaos, and then vanishing like a coward into the darkness.
The descriptions of the beast had scared the clan. Almost twice as big as an ordinary boar, broken tusk on the right hand side, long scar near its hind quarters, yellow teeth strong enough to break through wooden doors and carry off the children.
Most boar only hunted for food but this one seemed intent on inflicting pain on innocent families. Much like the English.
Lennox had had enough. One death would have been enough to trouble him but three had him eager to go hunting.
After the villagers had gone, Ross turned to his son. "Something is troubling you."
Lennox nodded. "I shall deal with the boar."
"You will do nothing of the sort. Get caught across the border and the truce is broken. I have no desire to bring war on our clan so soon after the last one. Do you forget the hunger pangs of the siege we endured?"
"No one will ken. I shall be swift and silent, father."
The Laird spoke loudly. "I forbid it. You will leave it be while my steward writes to the King."
"Meanwhile more children get dragged from their beds while we do nothing."
"If you’re that concerned, go check Cromarty’s defenses. See they have archers on guard for if it comes back." Lowering his voice to a whisper, he added, "Take your sword with you."
"Father?"
"If you are caught on English land chasing boar, I had no idea what you were up to." His voice returned to a normal level. "Now get out of my sight and no more talking about boar hunting, my boy."
When Lennox got to the village of Cromarty, a couple of washerwomen were returning from cleaning linen in the river.
"We saw its prints," they said when he hailed them. "Down by the river."
"Where was it going?"
"Headed west."
Of course. The tracks led toward the end of MacGregor territory. Lennox nodded his thanks. "I will seek it out."
The women said nothing, hands clasped together in gratitude as he walked down to the river.
