Euphemia
I told no one about what happened yesterday.
My aunt and uncle had enough to worry about without adding my madness to the list. With seven mouths to feed, things were already dire.
They hid their worries from us, whispering in the corner when they thought we were asleep, but the house was small and the nights were long.
Uncle Callum had been out from dawn till dusk for weeks, walking miles on foot, trying to find a day’s work. Tonight was no different.
“A new lord has set claim tae Eilidh House. There may be work there. A’ll need tae speak tae Graham McTavish. Try ’n get ma foot intae the estate,” he whispered.
“Maybe ah could find a position,” Aunt Flora murmured.
“Ma wee darlin’, naw. Yu’ve got Moire tae tend to.”
“Och, Euphemia can take care o’ the bairns,” she muttered.
“How’s the wee lassie goan tae feed her?” he shot back gently.
I almost burst out laughing into my pillow—Aunt Flora was breastfeeding Moire as she said it.
“I could take Moire wi’ me,” she grumbled stubbornly.
“Com’ere,” he whispered, and I peeked over the covers.
Uncle Callum pulled her tight against him, pressing her head to his chest while she sniffled, the weight of the world crumpling her petite frame.
“They destroyed oor clans,” she choked.
“Ah ken, darlin’, ah ken,” he said, stroking her back the same way my father once soothed my mother.
I slipped the covers back over my head, rubbing my cold nose against the thin blanket. The sting of tears gathered before I could stop them. I tried to swallow them down.
I’d help them.
I’d find work.
Hard labour and long hours didn’t scare me—it never had.
Working for the Sassunnach scum who sought to destroy us left a bitter taste in my mouth.
But I’d do it for Hamish, Angus, Moire, and Ranald.
Our young had to survive.
Even if I had to choke on my pride to make it happen.
? ? ?
Dawn had barely touched the sky when I woke.
Uncle Callum was already pulling on his worn boots in the corner, his movements slow but sure, the same way he’d moved every morning since Da died.
Aunt Flora was up too, shaping oatcakes with quick, efficient hands, sliding them into a cloth beside a wedge of hard cheese.
The faint smell of toasted oats filled the house, warm and familiar.
My breath clouded faintly in the cold air as I sat up.
“Uncle Callum,” I said quietly, so as no’ tae wake the younger bairns, “I want tae go wae ye. I can work at Eilidh House. We need the coin.”
Aunt Flora gasped, her hands freezing mid-fold.
Uncle Callum frowned so deeply that the creases carved new lines across his brow.
“Naw. Yer too young fur it,” he said gruffly.
“Naw, am ar’nae. Ah can graft, an’ ye know it,” I snapped back before catching myself and lowering my voice when the bairns stirred on the pallet beside me.
“Am nineteen, am no a child,” I hissed.
Aunt Flora pressed her lips together, then gave a slow, solemn nod.
“She’s right. I cannae do it, but she can.”
“Are ye both mad?” Uncle Callum said, looking between us like he’d woken into a nightmare.
I exhaled, rubbing my arms as I remembered the soldier, fear pricked the back of my neck.
“There might be some trouble wi’ me down here,” I murmured. “I had an altercation with a Sassunnach soldier. He wuz a high-ranking wan.”
His face dropped. Aunt Flora’s hands shook.
They knew one or two soldiers still patrolled the area with the Lowland betrayers. Even the whisper of trouble was dangerous.
“Wit did ye do, lassie?” Uncle Callum whispered.
“He was a leecher,” I said, jaw tight.
Aunt Flora slammed the cloth shut over the oatcakes.
“Ye get her oot o’ here. I willnae huv her being attacked. Dae ye hear me, Callum McDonald? Ah willnae huv it!” she hissed. “We’ve lost enough.”
Uncle Callum stared at me—long, heavy, the way Da used tae look when weighing a choice he hated but knew was right.
Finally, he nodded.
“Get yerself ready,” he said quietly, closing his eyes as if sending the decision up to the heavens.
I stood and turned away as they began whispering again, giving them privacy—and giving myself a moment to steady the trembling in my hands.
I slipped behind the hanging cloth that separated the sleeping corner from the rest of the house, giving myself a moment of privacy.
The floor was cold beneath my bare feet, the stones biting at my skin as I dressed quickly.
I pulled on my thickest gown—though that wasn’t saying much—and packed an extra shift and stockings, folding them tight into the thin linen sheet I tied into a makeshift bundle.
My fingers trembled on the last knot.
A flutter in my chest stirred unlike any other, and the memory of the growl flooded back.
A warning.
A call.
It felt strange yet familiar.
I pressed my hand to the spot and shook my head fiercely.
Nonsense.
A dream brought on by fear and hunger.
I lifted my bundle and stepped out into the main room.
Aunt Flora caught me before I could even take two steps. She pulled me into her arms, her brown hair tickling my cheek as she crushed me against her warm, soft frame.
“Thank ye,” she whispered, voice breaking. “I’ve packed some food fur ye. Now away wi’ ye before ye make me greet like a bairn.”
I kissed her cheek and hugged her back tightly.
“Tell the wee ones that I’ll be back soon,” I murmured, though the words scraped something raw in my throat.
She nodded quickly, wiping her eyes with the hem of her apron.
Uncle Callum waited by the door, adjusting the strap of his worn satchel. He gave me a stiff nod—not unkind, just weighed down by worry—before he pushed the door open.
The cold morning air rushed in, sharp enough to sting my eyes.
We stepped outside.
The sky was still dark, the kind of deep indigo that came before dawn. A thin mist curled along the ground, clinging to the heather and the old fence posts. Our breaths puffed into white clouds as we set off down the narrow pebbled path.
My bundle thumped lightly against my hip.
My shawl fluttered in the wind.
And every step carried me farther from what I knew… and closer to whatever waited at Eilidh House.
The air was cold, but fresh—almost sweet—filling my lungs in a way that made something inside me stretch, uneasy and alert.
I rubbed my chest again, quick and discreet.
Whatever had woken in me two days ago… it wasn’t sleeping now.
? ? ?
Even though my uncle had kept a slower pace for me, the long journey had been a struggle. My feet throbbed, my calf muscles burned, and every step felt like I was dragging stones behind me. By the time the Sassunnach’s house came into view, I could barely feel my toes.
The sheer size of the property made me falter.
Three storeys of cold stone, wide sweeping grounds, windows like watchful eyes.
A place built from wealth wrung out of land my people once walked freely.
It stung—deep in the bone, deeper than anger—that we were driven from lands we’d lived on for hundreds of years, only for strangers to build monuments like this atop the earth they’d stolen.
I swallowed hard, pushing the resentment down.
But it sat there, aching like the rest of me.
Just as I forced my sore feet forward, a sudden chill ran down my spine.
Not from the blustering Highland wind.
This was different.
Sharp.
Electric.
Wrong.
I paused and glanced back. The tall grass swayed in restless waves, rippling as if something unseen moved through it. The opposite direction was worse—large, dark pines towering over the path, their shadows heavy and watching.
My breath caught.
“Are ye just goin’ tae stand there an’ gawk?” Uncle Callum shouted from ahead.
I startled, lifting my skirts and rushing toward him despite the scream of my aching muscles. My boots slapped against the pebbled path, heart pounding far harder than the run deserved.
But the uncanny feeling didn’t leave me.
It grew.
It crawled up my spine, settled under my ribs, and pulsed there, deep and warm and alive.
And for one strange, terrifying heartbeat…
I thought I heard something.
A voice without words.
A whisper without sound.
Calling.