“We’ll keep asking as we go, surely we will find somebody along the way. The number of people and ships that come in and out of here… we cannae expect them all to remember everybody.” Nathan offered, hoping it would give her some peace of mind, even though he didn’t quite believe his own words.
They traveled for the rest of the day at a leisurely pace, which allowed Nathan all of the time he needed to look around and see if anything sparked his memory. And yet, no matter how much he looked around, he couldn’t remember a single thing.
What if he never remembered his previous life at all? It was a thought he often had, especially when he lay awake late at night as Freya slept. What would he do then? Would he continue his life as Nathan? Would he never find out the truth about himself, about his past?
When the sky above them became too dark to see properly they stopped to make camp. Their general direction was inland, deeper into the heart of Scotland. Perhaps they might even end up coming across a clan that knew him.
Nathan set about making a fire for the pair of them to stay warm, and Freya started to pull out various bits and pieces in order to make dinner for them both.
“Dae ye want some help?” Nathan offered as she pulled out an onion. With a small smile, Freya handed him the onion and started on a batch of carrots instead, her hands working quickly and skillfully to clean them and cut them in small, round pieces.
Compared to her, Nathan felt useless. With a small blade he kept on his person ever since leaving the hut, he slowly and clumsily began to clean and chop the onion, his eyes stinging almost instantly, tears streaming down his cheeks. He couldn’t help but sniffle and wipe his cheeks with the back of his hand, the onion seemingly determined to take its revenge on him. When he glanced up at Freya, he found her smirking ever so slightly, seemingly amused by his struggle.
“Is something amusing ye, lass?” he asked, and though Freya’s mouth twisted as she tried to suppress her smile, she simply couldn’t.
“Nay,” she lied.
Nathan let it go, simply because it felt like too much work, trying to cut the onion when he could hardly see and arguing withFreya at the same time. Still, her amusement seemed to never fade.
Finally, he managed to chop the onion into pieces, adding it with great difficulty into the pot.
“I dinnae ken if I have ever seen somebody so uncomfortable with a knife before. I thought that ye were a solider?” Freya teased.
“I was hoping that great wit of yers would take a little bit longer tae resurface, if I’m being honest. Good tae see that ye are fully recovered from yer illness,” Nathan remarked without any real bite as he moved on to the parsnips Freya had placed between them. Given how much smaller they were, it was even more difficult for him to hold them in his larger hands. Freya stopped cutting hers entirely in favor of watching him attempt to work. He began slowly, trying his best to keep the parsnip in the grip of his finger just to prove her wrong, but when he cut the first piece, it managed to ricochet right into his eye.
Nathan hissed in discomfort, recoiling and pulled away, rubbing the area. Freya clamped her hand over her mouth firmly, trying not to laugh, but it hardly mattered when she already seemed so amused.
“Are ye sure that ye dinnae need help?”
Nathan held the knife between them, pointing it at her without any sort of threat. “It’s nae me skills, the knife is just dull.”
“Ah, I see, the knife. Right. Blame the object fer yer inadequacy.” Freya said.
Nathan’s brow furrowed and he shook his head. “If it were sharper, this wouldnae be an issue.”
Without a comment, Freya held her knife by the blade, handing hers to him. It would be a simple matter, exchanging blades so he could work with more ease. The only problem was that Nathan was, indeed, bluffing, and Freya could tell. No matter the knife, he was certain the parsnip would end up cut unevenly all around—and most of it wouldn’t even make it to the pot.
Unwilling to admit defeat or that he was wrong, Nathan pulled out a whet stone from their bag and started to sharpen the blade instead. Testing the metal against his finger and until he was satisfied, he turned back to the task at hand—only to face the exact same struggle as before. Only this time, the parsnip slid right out of his hands and onto the ground between his feet.
Freya bit down on her bottom lip, seemingly to suppress another chuckle, but Nathan easily caught it. The last thing he needed was her mockery when those damned parsnips seemed to have a bone to pick with him.
He shook his head. “Dinnae start with me.”
That was the precise moment when Freya lost her composure entirely, laughing uncontrollably as Nathan simply sat there and watched her, entirely unimpressed. The more he sat there, though, the more it seemed to him that Freya would neverstop laughing, her shoulders shaking and her breath coming in gasps. Even when she appeared to be calming down, one look at him was enough to send her once again into hysterical fits of laughter.
It took a long time for her mirth to finally subside, and she had to wipe tears of amusement from the corners of her eyes, the handle of her knife clutched securely in her fingers. Nathan, his lips pressed into a thin line and his eyes narrowed, could only wait for her to compose herself.
“Here! Let me show ye.” Freya giggled and took the other parsnips, showing him how to cut them easily. Nathan watched her carefully, tracing every move of her hands as she cut the parsnip, trying to figure out how she made it look so effortless.
Had he never cut a vegetable in his life? What kind of man was he that he could afford to do so?
With only moderate protest, he started to copy Freya’s movements until he, too, was cutting the vegetables and adding them into the pot. The simmer they had going from the fire smelled incredible, and his appetite began to grow the more he helped Freya cook.
In the end, the food tasted even better than it smelled, much to Nathan’s surprise. He had thought himself so useless for a moment that he feared he would ruin the whole thing, but he devoured his portion and more.
“This is where I miss that bed from the inn.” Freya grinned, reaching for her things and stopping when she caught a whiff of her hands, the smell apparently giving her pause. She slapped her hands together as if that would somehow rid her of any remaining particles. “We smell of onion and food… I think I’m going to bathe in the stream.”
“I’ll keep watch.”
