Chapter 8
Rowan
My mind was a blur. Consumed by all I had been told, all I had learnt.
Numb. Hours passed, and the sun rose high.
And then it dipped low. But I barely noticed.
I just focused on placing one foot in front of the other, following Caelan, who kept hold of my hand, guiding me forward.
His firm, reassuring grip kept me grounded.
Preventing me from floating off, lost to the wind like a feather in flight.
When we eventually came to a stop, I was somewhat surprised to see the land around us much changed.
Having left the hills behind, we were now standing in a thicket, close to an ambling stream.
Ripples cascaded over smooth rocks before pooling in whirling depths.
The cool water beckoned to me. I had a sudden yearning for a bath.
“We’ll make camp here for the night,” Caelan said, moving towards the clearing nestled between the grove of trees.
I made to follow him, but the sound of the water drew me closer.
I dropped his hand and wandered in that direction.
“Stick to the bank,” he cautioned, and I nodded without looking back.
Picking my way carefully over the moss-slicked stones, I perched in a heather bush hugging the side.
Removing my boots and socks, then rolling up my jeans, I tentatively stuck a toe in the water.
It was shockingly cold, but felt delicious on my weary feet.
I wiggled my toes for a bit, letting the coolness soothe them.
Once the sting of cold was gone, I wandered in a few feet, bending to cup a handful of water.
It was so clear; it sparkled in the rays of the dying sun.
After quenching my thirst, I had just splashed some onto my face when a thought occurred to me.
I can’t go back.
I was stuck here. Trapped by the veil that separated this world from my own. And according to Caelan, that veil was only thin twice a year. Beltane or Samhain; the two nights where the boundary between realms blurred.
The thought of leaving this strange land, so full of mystery and wonder, sent a pang of longing through my heart.
But guilt nipped at its heels as a vision of my aunt came to mind.
She had warned me about going to Scotland.
Though, I now wondered if she had just been placating my parents with her words.
But here I was, stuck in the Realm of the Fae – one filled with strange and deadly creatures – just as they had feared.
There was no way for me to reach out to Sarah and explain what had happened. No way for me to alleviate her worry or tell her I was fine. And worry she would. Especially once she found out I had travelled to Lochinver instead of my false destination of Edinburgh.
Minutes ticked by and the weight of my decision bore down on me. Sinking into my shoulders. Pulling at my skin.
What if I could never return?
What would happen if I was stuck here forever?
Where would I go?
How would I live?
The thought of never seeing my aunt again, never being able to apologise for the worry and stress this would cause her, filled me with despair. I could only hope she would forgive me for my foolishness and believe I was safe.
I had been drawn here. That much was clear.
Something inside me had been persistently urging me towards this very place.
And now that I was here, I couldn’t bring myself to regret it.
It just felt right. I felt right. Like I finally belonged.
A small part of me couldn’t help but revel in that rightness.
My eyes flashed across the moor, looking at the land around me in a new light.
The hills were ablaze with bronzes and golds, ambers and greys.
Evergreens painted the scene with verdant slashes, while reds and oranges cut a pretty picture on the deciduous trees.
Guilt soured my chest, and I began to wonder if I actually didn’t want to go home.
Heaving a sigh, I made my way back to the bank and sat on the rocks to let my feet dry. Caelan was moving about behind me, but I could not find the energy to wonder what he was doing or offer my help. I was drained. Mentally. My way forward was no longer clear to me.
A tourist within my own life.
“Lass, come sit by the fire,” Caelan called.
Shivering, I turned towards his voice, not realising it had gotten so cold. With boots in hand, I cautiously stepped through the grass, sitting where directed, watching as he stoked the flames. I pulled on my socks to keep my feet warm.
“I’m going to go find us something to eat,” he said, eyeing me with a frown. “I need you to stay here, close to the fire while I am gone. Can you do that?”
I nodded numbly, my eyes returning to the flames. I was hungry, I realised. Caelan’s gaze raked over me before he rose to his feet and moved off into the trees.
I sat, huddled next to that fire, and waited. And waited. And waited. The sun began its descent behind the distant hills, casting long shadows across the land. And still I waited. Focused on the flames. My thoughts in turmoil.
At some point I must have drifted off, for when I opened my eyes again, my head was resting on my folded arms and the fire was all but embers. Movement sounded in the trees behind me, and I sat up, heart pounding, straining to see into the night.
Nervously, I called out, “Caelan?”
“Aye, it’s me,” he replied, appearing from the darkness.
My stomach gave a little flutter. Butterflies taking flight. Or maybe it was hunger. Yep. It was most definitely hunger, growling at the sight of the three fat fish Caelan carried over his shoulder, impaled on a long stick.
He smiled upon hearing it and crouched by the fire. “Hungry?”
“I suppose I am,” I admitted, curious to see what he did with the fish. He stoked the flames, piling on more wood before positioning the stick directly over the heat. “Won’t the stick burn?”
“Aye. But that’s okay – we’re not eating the stick.” He sent me a wink, and suddenly, I felt as if everything was going to be okay.
It had been three days since I had walked through those woods and found myself in another realm. Two days of crossing the terrain on foot. And two nights I had slept under the stars, my body still adjusting to the rough ground.
A hand on my shoulder nudged me awake and I opened my eyes to find Caelan leaning over me. Well good morning, gorgeous. He flicked me a grin before standing up, and my happiness bled away to disappointment.
“What’s bothering you this early?” Caelan asked, raising a brow.
“Nothing,” I muttered.
“I think you miss waking up in my arms,” he surmised.
Yes!
“No,” I grumbled, stretching out my kinks.
“Then what’s got you so troubled?”
“Nothing. I always wake up like this.”
“If I recall, you woke up cheerful yesterday and the morn before that. You’re like a little bird, greeting the sun.”
That’s because your arms were wrapped around me, keeping me safe and warm.
“Yes. Well… I hadn’t been walking for days on end and in need of a bath,” I quickly deflected.
He considered that for a moment, turning his head to look at me. He then leant in and not so subtly sniffed me. “Well, that is true, lass. You could use a bath.” He smirked, swiftly moving back when I took a swipe at him.
Cheeky bastard.
I discreetly sniffed my underarm when he turned away, my nose wrinkling. It wasn’t that bad.
(It was.)
“The good news is we will reach home by tonight,” he continued, looking up at the sky.
My spirits rose, but I still felt combative when I mumbled my reply. “Your home, maybe.”
He sent me a sharp look. “Come now, I’m sure you will like it soon enough. Especially after you’ve had a hot bath.”
That thought did cheer me up considerably, and I quickly started to pull my boots on. When I jumped up, ready to be on our way, Caelan chuckled and began to pack up the camp.
As we rested for our midday meal, I saw signs of civilisation in the distance.
The horizon was now dotted with sturdy stone cottages, horses grazing in the fields.
The bleating of sheep carried down from the hills, and every now and again, woodsmoke drifted through the air.
Apart from the cullach – and those blasted moths – I had seen nothing out of the ordinary.
Nothing to truly indicate I was no longer in Scotland.
The lands looked the same, or similar to what I had already seen of the Highlands.
Even Caelan’s speech was flavoured with Scottish words.
“I’ve been meaning to ask about your accent,” I said as we resumed walking.
“What about it?”
“You don’t sound Scottish, not entirely, but you do use some of their phrases. Why is that?”
He stole a glance at me. “The truth of it is, I grew up with a Scottish father. Technically, not my real father, but a man who was like a father to me. He came through the woods when he was a young man. Had the thickest accent you ever did hear.” He smiled remembering it, and I smiled with him.
“I guess I picked up a thing or two,” he finished.
“What happened to your parents?” I asked hesitantly.
His eyes flicked to me again, and an emotion I could not place crossed his features. “They died,” he eventually said.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” His words reminded me of my own parents. And then I was thinking about Sarah. Sadness clawed at my chest and my mouth turned down.
Noticing, Caelan took up my hand, giving it a squeeze. His large palm engulfed mine, making me feel safe and secure. Comforted. I liked the feeling, so I squeezed back and held on tight.
“Tell me about them,” he said.
“My parents?” He had this uncanny way of knowing where my thoughts had turned. At his nod and the tender smile on his face, I asked, “What do you want to know?”
“Everything and anything,” he replied. “Tell me it all if you want.”