“Yer father has summoned ye for a visit. Ye are to leave within the hour.”
That was as much of an explanation as she was given.
“Summoned?” she had questioned without reply. “Perhaps Seamus could come with me. It has been far too long since he has seen his grandfather. And ye ken my brother's wife just had her bairn. It would be good for him to meet his new cousin.”
“Nay. Ye will go alone. The lad will stay here.”
Her stomach had twisted at her husband's tone, but she hadn't put up any argument. She simply did as she was told, and it had cost her everything. It had cost her watching her only child, her son, grow into a man.
And grown he would have been by now. She had spent the better part of almost two decades standing at her window, hoping that one day he would come riding up to the castle. He would have changed so much by now, but a mother would always be able to recognize her son. At least, that's what she told herself every time a stranger came riding up.
Thunder clapped, shaking the weary and weathered stones of the castle walls. Caitria shook with them. Her eyes slammed shut against the boom. It rattled her more than she liked to admit. She wasn't entirely sure when she had become this frightened, feeble, and frail wraith of a woman; she didn't know when she had stopped fighting. But it had been long enough that even a thunderstorm had her shaking.
Willing herself to calm down, Caitria opened her eyes slowly. She strained to look beyond the rain-streaked window pane, trying to focus on something more than the storm raging outside. Her eyes sought the tree line that she knew lay just beyond the castle walls. They were the trees she had grown up playing in and exploring. Down the road, a little ways, was the village her mother had taken her to on market days. She had done the same with Seamus on the rare trips he had made to clan MacKenzie before her entire world had fallen apart.
She looked there now, hoping to catch a glimpse of the comforting sight. Searching for the thatched roofs of the villagers' homes, she stared at the road.
“The trees are moving,” she muttered in surprise. “The trees are moving.”
If anyone had been in the room to hear her, they would have written her off as insane and locked her in her tower. But since she was alone, there was no one to question her claim other than herself.
“Why are the trees moving?” she asked aloud.
She rubbed her eyes, wondering if she had truly lost what little sense she had left. Vision cleared, and she searched the forest again. This time, she got an answer to what she was seeing. It was an answer that struck fear deep into her heart.
“Campbell.”
The name was a whispered cry of anguish. She couldn't tear her eyes away from the window as she watched the man emerge from the tree line, followed by men in droves. Though she had never seen him before, there was no mistaking the blood-red color of his tartan or the malice written across his face. There was no one else it could have been, especially not with an entire army cloaked in the same plaid riding behind him. If she didn't know any better, she would think they were being invaded.
She wondered if this was what Seamus saw the day that Campbell had invaded the Murray lands. She had already been halfway to her father's castle by then, but word travels fast. By the time she had made it to safety, she knew that Campbell had already overtaken her husband. She had never known fear like that before, not for herself or the clan, but for Seamus. It was unlikely that he should be allowed to live as heir to the clan. The day that word had reached her that Seamus was still alive, she had collapsed to the floor in relief and sobbed for hours. Her father had all but pulled her out of the Great Hall by the hair, claiming she was an embarrassment to the entire clan for her behavior. But she didn't care. Her son was safe and that was all that mattered.
She had tried for three years to escape her father's clutches and return to Seamus. Her plans never worked. She was always caught before she made it to the clan borders. And when she was returned, her father's punishments were brutal. He had starved her for nearly a week the last time she had tried to leave. It had taken her almost a month to regain her strength, but by then, her spirit was thoroughly crushed. She had never tried to leave again, fearing that it would cost her her life if she did.
As she watched Campbell and his army get closer and closer, she wondered if Seamus was safe now. If he had been able to drive Campbell out of the clan and that was what brought Campbell to their door today. She had heard the rumors. She knew that Campbell was not a kind man, nor was he a gentle leader. He only brought death and destruction.
The rain began to slow, and the skies started to clear. Without the water blocking her view, she could see just how close Campbell was to them. And as the weather continued to clear, so did the fog that had overtaken her mind. Her heart started to pound, echoing the beat of the hooves outside.
“I have to do something.”
For the first time in God knows how long, she felt a will to live, to survive. If Seamus had managed to oust Campbell, then she had the chance of reuniting with her son. She had to do something to stop this man from infiltrating her home a second time. She had to tell her father. Surely, he was unaware that their lands were being invaded. Surely, he would put a stop to it all.
Turning from the window, she picked up her skirts and dashed across the stone floor of her room. Her shawl fell from her shoulders, but she didn't notice it. Nor did she notice the coolness of the stones on her bare feet. All she could think about was finding her father as soon as possible. Caitria reached out for the door handle and gave it a hard tug, ready to wrench it open and sprint down the hallway, but the door didn't budge. She tried it again, thinking that the weather had made the hinges stick, but still, no luck.
“Hello,” she called out, her voice shaken by desperation.
Pulling on the door harder this time, she felt her nerves build.
“I need to see my father!”
She wasn't sure who she was talking to, she only hoped that there was a guard on the other side of the door who could hear her. She rattled the doorknob and threw her entire body into it to no avail.
“Help! We are being invaded! Ye must go get help!”
For a moment, Caitria stopped, listening for any sign that someone was there, that someone could hear her. When none came, she began to panic in earnest.
“Let me out of here! Let me out!”
But no one came. No one answered her cries.
