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I looked up at the sky. “We’ll watch for storms.”

Up ahead there was a market, but I knew not to get my hopes up. There would be no modern delicacies nor junk, and I really missed junk food.

But the market was a wee bit better than I thought. Crowded with villagers and farmers, a few stalls in the open ground near the path, canvas over boards, piled with baked goods and produce, the smell of bread and onions. One woman sold oatcakes and a pale cheese. A man had apples in a basket, small and hard, likely tart as hell. Someone was cutting slices of meat from a cold joint. Yum.

Torin said, “Och, I am verra hungry.”

It was surprising to be around people again, this little market had gathered people from all walks of life. Even having never been to this time period and this village I could tell who people were: A woman standing near the oatcakes table had the scowl of a village scold. A man standing near the butcher was clearly in the upperclass, tapping his foot impatiently. A young girl was lovely, walking by, with two boys trailing behind, like puppies, wanting any attention from her at all.

The place was loud in the best way. After days of solitary riding, and poor inns full of rough travelers, it was a relief to be in public. I wanted to stand there and do nothing but people-watch as they argued over prices.

Torin bought bannocks, cheese, and two of the apples. He paid without haggling much.

I tore the warm bread as we walked and the simple taste of it almost undid me. I pretended to stoop, like I would crumple to the floor with pleasure.

“Ye all right, mo leannan?”

“I was soooo hungry. So, so hungry, this is the best bread, man, I am happy to eat this bread.”

He joked, “Ye must be famished, this bread inna much tae speak on.” He finished his and said, “Dost ye mind if I eat the last of it?”

“No, not at all, that was enough.”

I cocked my head. “You know, it’s weird, this place looks like it’s yours. Some of these people look like they could be your relatives.”

“They likely are, m’mother’s family came from near here. M’father’s family comes from south of here about a half-day’s ride. Everyone is likely a cousin.”

“Or a grandparent.”

“Yer grandparents as well. Yer family are Campbells, I am Elphinstone, the MacAlisters live near, and the Erskines…”

He glanced once more at the empty hill. “The people might look familiar, but they arna.”

“It’s disconcerting, I bet.”

“Aye, tis.”

We ate leaning against a wall, watching the market in full swing, with Dude sitting on the fence beside us. Torin gave him a piece of cheese.

I cocked my head looking across the lane to the more built up area of the village. “What is… that?”

He grinned. “The cock stone? I was wondering when ye would notice it.”

“Oh my God, you’re right, it looks like a big cock.”

“Aye, tis an ancient stone, and the town is named for it. Cockmannan.”

I laughed. “You said it was Clackmannan.”

“Aye, but it is called stone of mannan, tis hard tae think that the ancient peoples dinna erect it there for any reason but the glory of the cock. Max and I call this town Cockmannan, we hae tae, tis not fair tae ignore it, an erect cock on display in the middle of the village.”

“Yeah, that is wild.”

Then I introduced Torin to the theatrics of pretending to know what people are saying, watching a man bent over looking at the apples, “Do you have some, kind sir, round like this but tastes like an orange?” I laughed. “Really an orange. Do you have an orange?”

Torin said, “What is an orange?”

My eyes went wide. “Torin! We have to get out of here and take you back to North Carolina for oranges!”