Alistair watched them leave. He had no place anywhere. No mother’s lap. No family. Just himself and his determination to no’ let his circumstances steal his honor. ’Twas all he had that someone couldna take from him.
Again, he shifted, remembering the almost impossible struggle between integrity and hunger.
“State yer name, and age, lad.”
“Alistair MacDonell. Eighteen, sir”
The officer quirked an eyebrow and gave him a hard stare.
“Sixteen,” Alistair admitted. “But I’m strong, sir, and honest, and I’ll work hard. I promise, I’ll no’ let ye down.”
Alistair remembered how overwhelmed he’d been to finallybelongsomewhere. The days were long, the work hard, but he’d never been happier. And for the first time in his life he had friends.Realfriends, who dinna want to take from him.
He blinked and stared blindly at the surrounding forest. HewasAlistair MacDonell! He knew it in his gut, his head and his heart. He knew his name. Hisrealname! But, something was off about the time and places he remembered. They’d seemed to have happened in centuries past. How could that be?
If he was Alistair, then Soncerae was real, so how had she spoken earlier, and no’ been present? What about Angus and Gregor? They were connected to Soni, so were they real, as well? And what of the battle where he’d fought and died, with Angus. And the scars he bore?
Every realization brought a flood of new questions, stuffing his head beyond capacity. Struggling to sort it all out, Alistair rose to his feet and whistled for Gus who’d likely gone off in search of a new discovery.
He went back to the footprints. Hoping they could reveal more, he circled the area, studying the tracks to find where they began. Puzzled, he scratched the back of his neck. Certainly, if he’d walked here, there’d be proof in the mud. But ’twas nothing there—as if he’d just…appeared.
A chill settled in his bones. ’Twas more here than just his lack of memory. Something troublesome. An uneasy feeling churned in the pit of his stomach. Whatever was afoot, he couldna allow any harm to come to Brie.
He glanced at the sun. She’d been gone a long time. He couldna imagine what kept her. Mayhap she couldna find the gas. “Come, Gus. Let’s go see what our lass is up to.”
Alistair tossed sticks ahead for Gus all the way up the road. He was anxious to finally share his real name with Brie. They’d both become so used to Mac, it would be strange, at first. When he turned onto her lane, he spotted her wheeled-machine, just off the path. ’Twas curious that she’d leave it clear out here.
Surely, ’twas nothing, but he picked up his pace, all the same as Gus ran onto the deck, barked and scratched at the door. After no response, he jumped down and ran around to the shed.
When Alistair caught up and saw the open door, he sighed with relief. Good. Brie was inside. “We’ve come tae fetch ye, lass. Ye’ve been gone far too—”
Gus whined from inside, but when Alistair entered, the room was empty. Several cans had been pulled away from the wall and left in disarray. Unusual for Brie, given her pension for tidiness.
Mayhap she was in the cabin and just dinna hear Gus. As he turned to leave the shed, however, he noticed a partial, mud-dusted imprint of a boot, on the floor. The heel looked much like the one they’d seen outside, last night.
Alistair’s throat tightened. “Brie!” He raced for the cabin, praying he’d find her, inside. She wasna. But another dusty footprint, matching the one in the shed, stood out clearly on Brie’s spotless floor.
He searched the entire cabin, finding no sign of Brie, or any disturbance other than the footprint.
Back outside, he scoured the ground, trying to build a picture of what happened. The blackguard had been in the cabin, and the shed, but by the disordered condition of the shed’s interior, ’twas most likely he’d taken Brie from there.
If he’s harmed so much as a hair…
Rage engulfed Alistair, until he forced himself to take several deep breaths. “Ye’ll canna help her if ye dinna keep yer wits about ye!”
He hurried inside the shed for a possible weapon but found nothing useful. However, he could use a couple of Brie’s knives. Racing back to the cabin, he rummaged through a drawer until he found a long, sturdy one for his belt, and a smaller, sgian-dubh for his boot. No’ quite the broadsword he was used to, but ’twould have to do.
His hand shook as he closed Brie’s knife drawer, recognizing the absurdity of such a thought. Where could he have used a broadsword? A flash of his battle alongside Angus, played in is head. He actually remembered swinging the blade, before taking the point of another, in his side. His knees almost buckled as he recalled the agonizing thrust.
’Twas no’ possible! ’Twas naught but a dream!
Alistair forced his confusion and questions aside. He couldna examine them, now. No’ when Brie was missing.
“Gus,” he shouted from the deck, swinging his arm in a wide arc, at the forest beyond the cabin’s clearing. “Go find Brie!”
Gus barked and hopped backwards, then turned and sprinted to the edge of the clearing, sniffing back and forth, across the ground.
Mac started back at the shed, scanning the ground for any indication of what direction they might have gone, but he dinna see anything more than he and Brie had found the night before.
