Page 24 of Highlander’s False Identity

Seeing the gun flying into the fast-flowing burn, Edme jumped to her feet.

“I told ye nae to get in my way!” she hissed fiercely. Now she was snarling and within inches of the English officer, the Craig clan sgian dubh waving in the petrified man’s face.

She turned to the English captain. “Nae then, lad, ye still want to try yer luck hey? Do ye?”

Edme plunged the blade straight into the terrified man’s shoulder. Blood poured from his uniform.

“Come on, then, let’s have ye lad!” she teased. Behind her, Beathan stood, ready with his dagger for the slightest twitch.

Outnumbered, bleeding, and without his weapon, the officer simply turned and fled, reaching the perimeter of the clanless lands within seconds. He didn’t so much as look back, disappearing over the hillside.

Beathan moved towards Edme. He could only see her back from his defensive position. He had been ready to spring on top of the English soldier at any moment, but as it turned out, there was no need.

Edme did not turn around but emitted a strangled high pitch kind of laughter. Watching her shoulder blades jut out oddly and begin to shudder, Beathan walked over, placing a warm hand on her arm.

They were together in the wilderness, the strewn bodies of the dead soldiers for company in the silent valley. He came to rest a hand on her shoulder in a congratulatory manner.

“Och, I dinnae blame him for running off!” he grinned. “Ye were terrifying!”

Edme said nothing, her body still shaking with what seemed like laughter. Fondly, Beathan pulled her around to face him.

“Ye did a good job, lass, e’en if ye borrowed my blade to do it!” Beathan jested. He was about to tease when he stopped dead in his tracks.

Tears were streaming down her face, her body shuddering under the weight of the emotion pouring out of her.

“Edme?” Beathan said unsurely, his hand pressing down on the girl’s shoulders. He pushed gently, steadying her gasps and shakes.

“Edme, are ye alright?” he added gently. He could see a couple of scratches on her arms, but nothing that was too serious.

However, Edme did not look well. Her face was white and frozen, her eyes lost, and her body shuddering out of control.

“Nae,” she murmured, but without looking.

“Come here,” he said softly. Carefully, he pulled her into a hug.

For a moment, he felt her resistance, and Beathan half expected her to push against him, just as she had done last time. But she did not. Edme collapsed, sobbing, into Beathan’s open arms.

“Edme, Edme, what is it? They’ve gone now, an’ this time, they are not coming back!” he reassured her.

Inside, Beathan felt his heart give a massive rush. The sight of the girl like this, wild and undone, was doing things to him. With the adrenaline from the fight still coursing through his veins, the intense emotion from the girl was having a chain reaction within him.

“They cannae come back from that,” he said, pointing to the fallen officer still near their feet. But instead of making her happy, Edme looked as if she was about to be sick.

“Aye, they can,” she said, eventually. She looked at Beathan numbly. “Of course they can; they’ve got the might of the English army behind them, Beathan. What have we got?”

“Och, Edme, that wasn’t the whole army! It wasnae even a division! It’s just one or two raggle-taggle recruits still coasting through the Highlands!”

But Edme was not listening. She had wrenched herself out of his grip and was now feverishly going through one of the dead soldier’s belongings. Beathan watched her, unsure as to what was going on.

It seemed as if she was looking for something, and when a scroll of paper fell out of the officer’s haversack, she gave a grim nod.

“Just a couple of raggle-taggle recruits coasting through the Highlands, eh? Well, what is my picture doing in his bag then?” she demanded.

“What’s this?” Beathan asked, taking the paper from her hands. Edme started opening the rest of his possessions up. She rifled through them carefully.

“Ye cannae say it’s nae me, can ye?” said Edme, her eyes sparkling with tears.

Beathan studied the crumpled parchment, “Aye, there’s a likeness, although,” he scratched his head slightly, “perhaps this is of a child or young girl a few years younger than ye…”