Page 4 of Highland Storm

“I dinna ken,” said Hawke, running his finger along the rim of his cup. Logan’s wolf and Ethan’s Irish Wolfhound laid under the table together. Everyone knew and accepted the animals, although the women still seemed a little leery whenever Ethan brought his wolf into the great hall.

“Ye’ve got that look in yer eye again, Hawke,” said Logan. “That usually means trouble.”

“Nay, no’ trouble,” said Hawke, a swarm of thoughts filling his head. “I’d just like to be mentioned in the Highland Chronicles, that’s all.”

“Hah,” laughed Caleb. “That’ll never happen unless we can do crazy or heroic things like our faithers.”

“We do,” said Hawke with a flash of a smile. “But no one ever notices.”

“He’s right,” said Ethan. “The things we do make the acts of our faithers look dull.”

“Do ye really think we can get mentioned in the Highland Chronicles?” asked Logan, his eyes lighting up at the thought.

“I dinna care. I dinna need to be mentioned,” said Hawke with a wave of his hand to dismiss the conversation. He drained his tankard and plunked it down on the table. “I’m goin’ over to meet the chronicler.”

“Me, too,” said Logan.

“And me,” added Ethan, following on their heels.

“Wait for me,” called out Caleb, running to keep up as the men made their way over to the newcomers.

“Hawke,” called out Storm, motioning for his son to join them.

“Da,” said Hawke with an acknowledging nod, approaching the visitors curiously.

“I’d like ye to meet Brigham Ogilvy and his daughter, Bridget.” Storm held out his hand to include the visitors. “The king has commissioned his chronicler to add the MacKeefe Clan to his collection of books. Isna that wonderful?”

“I suppose so,” said Hawke, eyeing up the crowd. Not only his father, but also the fathers of his friends were huddled around the scribe, looking over his shoulder into the book.

“I dinna see anythin’ about me in there,” said Aidan, Logan’s father. “I’m sure ye’ll want to ken all about me bein’ the guardian of the Stone of Destiny.”

“Really? Ye guarded the coronation stone of the Scots?” asked the chronicler, seeming very interested.

“He didna mention he let the stone get stolen by a wench,” Logan mumbled under his breath to his friends.

“Well, I was able to hunt down and save a Book of Hours for a wealthy English lady,” announced Onyx proudly.

“He left out the part about his mathair stealin’ the book in the first place, and him abductin’ the Sassenach before he even looked for it,” whispered Ethan behind his hand to his friends.

“Dinna forget about me,” added Caleb’s father, Ian, standing taller. “I killed the ghost of a man who came back from the dead.”

“Ye did?” asked Bridget with wide eyes, leaning forward to hear more. The girl wore a gown that seemed too big for her, and her hair was covered by a wimple. Only the beauty of her face gave away the fact that she might be older than she seemed.

“If he would have made sure his enemy was really dead when he killed him in the first place, he never would have come back from the grave,” said Caleb softly to his friends.

“That’s nothin’,” spoke up Hawke’s grandfather, Ian. “My son, Storm, not only tracked down a band of renegades single-handedly but it’s because of him that we were able to lay siege to Hermitage Castle.”

“Oh, we want to hear that story,” said Bridget excitedly.

“Should we tell them that my da was taken prisoner by a blind woman and that he had the help of two clans and a Frenchman in seizin’ the castle?” Hawke asked his friends.

The four of them looked at each other and shook their heads. “Naw,” they all said together, knowing it wouldn’t be a good idea to point that out.

“Did I tell ye about the squirrel I used to have?” Aidan asked the chronicler.

“Squirrel? Hah, that’s nothin’ compared to the Scottish wildcat that traveled with me,” Onyx interrupted.

“A Scottish wildcat?” asked Bridget, sounding impressed.