“I dinnae like where this is going,” Moira confessed, but continued reading.
‘’Twas a warm summer day and Agnes was playing in the woods near ourhome.
Her brother, Angus, was busy helping their father in thefields.
They returned, but Agnes didn’t. We set out to findher.
It took hours. But we finally found her brokenbody.
Dead at the bottom of the cliffs near thesea.’
Moira gasped. “Nay! Their daughter died,” she cried, overcome with sadness. “How tragic and devastating. I really dinnae like this now.”
“Nor do I, but we must continue on. ’Tis the only way we will learn the whole history of our clans. The only way we will be able to mend the pain of the past. Our past.”
‘What we thought was an accident, we soon learned the diretruth.
One that would put our clans atwar.
A clansman from one of the border clans had taken our preciouslass.
Infatuated with her.’
With sorrow and anger running through her blood, Moira finished reading the heartbreaking story of Agnes and her death at the hands of someone who stole her virtue and her life, discarding her like rubbish on the rocks.
As if that weren’t enough, the clan responsible created a false narrative surrounding the actual happenings. They killed Thomas, leaving Fiona to deal with the ramifications. They swore an oath that Fiona was the cause for the deaths of her family members. The MacLeod’s took possession of Angus and sent her back to the Harts, and shunnedher and her clan. But worse, her clan also turned their backs on her, banishing her from the land she and Thomas had been gifted. The same land they’d built a life upon. A happy life—until it wasn’t.
She tried to speak the truth, but no one would listen. They hated her for what she represented. Hated her for the shame she brought on the clan. Hated her for the way she broke the peace. They wouldn’t believe that she wasn’t the one responsible. It mattered naught how many times she tried to explain.
She mourned alone, roaming the land.
Kenning the only way the truth would ever come to light, she painted their story on the cave, hid the clues, mementos, and treasures throughout the highlands. Kenning one day, someone would find what she’d done, and the truth would be brought to light.
There was still one, final treasure to be found.
‘Where the cliffs meet the sea. Where sand meetssalt.
Trees shade the sun. Find thehollow.
Learn the truth.’
Moira swept at the tears that welled in her eyes. “How tragic,” she repeated.
Errol pinched the bridge of his nose. “We’ve still got one more location to discover, but from what we’ve learned so far, our whole history of being enemies has been based on naught but lies.” He pushed off the floor and paced the interior of the cave. “We need to go.”
*
He paced thebanks of the shore far below the cave where Errol and Moira had disappeared into hours ago. Irritation had him clenching his fists.
He couldn’t see what they were doing or what they had found, ifaught.
He couldn’t hear their conversation.
The only thing he could do was wait for them to exit and continue on to wherever they needed to go next. His stupid leg wouldn’t allow him to climb the rocks leading up to the cave and there was no other way to get to it. He was stuck here.
Waiting.
Waiting.
