Chapter 6
Rowan
An owl hooted overhead before swooping away, the rhythmic flap of its wings jolting me awake.
A strange nursery rhyme slipped through my mind: Come home, little bird, for the owl is about.
Fly fast, little bird, you shouldn’t be out.
It drifted away on the feathers of that bird, lost to my memories.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Groaning, I lifted a hand to my head, blinking against the throbbing pain.
“You’ve got a nasty bump on your head. I’d lie still a while yet.”
My eyes flew open, and I jerked backwards, smacking my already pounding head into the ground.
“Easy, lass. You’ll do yourself more damage.”
I stared up at him, too astonished to say a word. The pale light of the moon was behind his head, so it wasn’t until he sat back that I was able to see his face.
Sweet baby Jesus.
He was the most stunningly handsome man I had ever seen. My thighs squeezed tight, and I flushed at the thoughts that swallowed my mind.
“Well, at least you’ve got some colour coming back. You had me worried there for a bit.”
I felt the blush stain my cheeks further, and he leant forward again, his eyes straying to mine. I gulped, realising he was only inspecting my head. I gazed at him, surely with a stunned expression, before clearing my face and taking his in.
His eyes, I noticed, were grey. Grey like the night just before the dawn.
Grey like the mist just before the rain.
He was so close I could see tiny flecks of hazel surrounding the pupil and a darker ring around the outside of his iris.
My gaze continued upwards, sweeping over his thick black eyelashes and across his brows.
Dark, like the hair that curled over his forehead, beads of rain clinging to the strands.
There was something about him that tickled at me. Something threaded with familiarity. Like we had met before. My eyebrows drew together as I tried to work it through.
I must be dreaming.
“You’re not dreaming, lass. You’re very much awake. Maybe just a bit woozy after your fall is all.”
Bloody hell. I’d said that aloud?
He smirked at me, and I suddenly felt silly, lying on the ground. I struggled to sit up, my body protesting. My muscles aching.
A thought occurred to me.
“Your voice.”
“My voice?”
My brows puckered, and I stared at him again, my eyes consuming his face. I was sure I had heard that voice before. The rich velvety undertones had haunted my sleep for the past six months.
“Say something again,” I said, disbelieving.
His lips curled in a sideways smirk. “What would ye like me tae say?” he growled, his accent more pronounced.
I internally groaned, my eyes flicking closed. That voice. Just like the one from my dreams. I could be forgiven for thinking it the same. The dream voice I thought of when I—
I cut that train of thought off promptly and peeked at him from beneath my lashes. He watched me with that slanted grin, as if he knew exactly what I had been thinking. I looked away, embarrassed again, and forced myself to sit up straighter, despite the discomfort radiating through my spine.
A dull ache spread through my body, pounding in places I had not felt before now.
My knee throbbed. My palms stung. And my face…
I still felt that stinging sensation from when the moths flew by.
Debris and dirt coated me from ankle to chin.
My shoulders hunched as I felt something wiggle in my hair.
“What happened?” I asked, raising my palms so I could peer at them.
He frowned, taking one of my hands in his and turning it to the light.
He did the same with the other, placing them down on my thighs when he was done.
My gaze swept the clearing, purposefully avoiding his eyes.
I struggled to remember how I’d got here.
Everything felt… disjointed. Foggy. There had been a beast. A roar. I had been chased.
A grotesque lump lay off to the side. A misshapen boar, its lifeless form marred by an arrow protruding from its head.
Was that what had been chasing me?
“Aye. You took a bit of a tumble and had a wee sleep, nothing too serious,” he reassured me.
“How long was I out?” I asked. My father had taught me some things over the years, and I knew unconsciousness was not something that should be taken lightly.
“Not too long, just enough for me to tuck you in,” he explained. “I was just getting ready to tend to that bump on your head when you came to.”
Glancing down, I noticed a cloak draped over me. Don’t ask me why, but I lifted it and sniffed. When he chuckled, I dropped it at once, waving my hand at the pig. “Is that what was chasing me?”
“Aye,” he replied, his tone turning sombre. “It’s a good thing I found you when I did. Few escape the clutches of the cullach once it catches their scent.”
“A cull-lick? What is it?” I asked, staring at the unknown creature.
It looked like a pig, albeit overly large.
Sharp-looking tusks protruded from its bottom lip, and upon its head, horns curved out and up, much like the ones on the Highland cows I had seen on my drive from Inverness.
It was covered in mud, dirt caked to its wiry pelt.
And the smell… I choked softly as a breeze blew our way and a strong, cloying musk drifted across the ground.
“It’s a wild boar, native to the Mystwoods. They are very territorial and will attack anything that enters their home.”
“Mist Woods? I thought I was in the Culag Woods?”
“Aye, you were. I guess you could say they form part of the Mystwoods.” Looking down at my hands, which were still palm up on my thighs, he beckoned. “Come. There’s a stream just up ahead where you can wash your hands.” He frowned. “And your face.”
Gratitude flooded through me. “Oh, thank you. My name is Rowan, by the way.”
He helped me to my feet, a gentle hand beneath my elbow. “Caelan,” he introduced himself. “The name is Caelan. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Rowan.”
The cool water of the stream eased the sting on my face, but not my palms. I winced as I tried to loosen the dirt stuck there. Strands of hair escaped my haphazard braid, and a tear decorated my jeans, one not dictated by fashion. I patted my pockets, realising my phone and jacket were missing.
I noticed the absence of something else, then. That incessant tug, deep within my chest, that sense of urgency I’d felt for the last seven months – it no longer gnawed at me. How strange. I hadn’t realised how prevalent it was until it was gone.
“Have you seen my phone?” I asked, turning to Caelan.
I’d been avoiding eye contact, struggling with my strong reaction to him.
It had been a while since a man had affected me like this – not since my teenage years, in all honesty.
None of the romantic encounters I’d had since stirred me in quite the same way.
“Do you mean this?” He extended his hand, my mobile resting in his palm.
“Yes! Thank you.” With a grateful smile, I took it from him.
His eyes followed my movements, his expression flickering with curiosity as I tapped the screen, quickly checking for a signal.
When the light from the phone illuminated our faces, he instinctively took a step back, only to lean in again to have a better look.
“What’s that?” he asked, his interest evident, as he pointed at my screensaver.
I touched the photo. “Those were my parents. It was taken a couple of years ago when we were holidaying in France.” The picture was one of my favourites.
It showed my father, arm around my mother, both smiling broadly at the camera.
A carefree day. I smiled at the memory, but it faded when I remembered my conversation with Sarah.
Caelan touched me gently. Just a small caress of my arm, but it brought me back to reality. “Were?” he asked, his fingers lingering on my skin.
A wave of sadness washed over me. The memories still fresh, the pain still raw. “Yes,” I replied. “They passed away not too long ago.”
He stared at the photo again. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
Silence fell. The warble of frogs from the other side of the stream was all I could hear. There was a soft rustle of leaves as something scurried through the bushes and I glanced around sharply, looking for what it could be.
“Dinnae fret, lass. It’s nothing but a bracken mouse. They are near harmless.”
Yeah. Just like the moths…
Still, I scanned the clearing, desperately searching for my lost jacket.
It was nowhere to be seen. Likely lost in my flight through the trees.
A cloud passed over the moon and I shivered as the cold seeped in.
As the dark descended. It was only then that my good sense returned, and I realised I was in the woods, alone, with a man.
A stranger. Someone I had never met before.
I would not have forgotten those eyes.
Strangely, I did not feel fear or apprehension.
The woods, cloaked in darkness with the moon casting eerie shadows across the trees, should have made it so.
I should have felt at least a little bit anxious.
A tiny bit uneasy… Scared, even. But all I felt was safe. Safe, as long as I stayed with him.
His voice startled me out of my thoughts as he turned his head at a sound. “Come,” he said, grasping my elbow, “we should go. Can you walk?”
“Yes. What time is it anyway?” I wasn’t wearing my watch.
He didn’t respond straight away, instead looking up at the trees, then around the clearing again. He sensed something I couldn’t. He led me away from the stream, moving downhill from where we had been.
“Where are we going?” I asked, shivering once again as the night air slipped through my clothes.
He backtracked, retrieving the forgotten cloak before placing it around my shoulders. The garment dwarfed me, falling to the ground. He frowned slightly, but with a hand behind my shoulders, directed me towards the trees at the side of the clearing. “We need to leave the Mystwoods.”
“Yes. I need to go home. If you can just point me in the right direction, help me to get back on the path, I’ll be on my way.”
“Unfortunately, there is no path back to where you came from. But there is shelter up ahead where we can rest for the night.”
What?
His voice was calm and steady, and again, where I would normally have felt anxious or frightened, all I felt was that strange peace flowing through me.
I looked up at his face. He was gazing back at me softly. Fondly.
He really had the most beautiful eyes.
When he held out his hand, I decided to trust my intuition, and instinctively placed mine within it.