There was a village not far ahead or so she had heard from the men in her clan. Duff, the builder in the clan, had allowed her to tag along with him when different structures were being built. Her interests differed greatly from most women. Elysia loved to stitch and had a talent for it. Annis, however, had been bored to death and stabbed herself with the needle so many times that Bliss would not let her attempt it again. She was more interested in the construction of the bone needle and had fashioned different shapes and sizes for Elysia. Womanly chores held no appeal to Annis.
The building of things, however, did hold interest to her. A strong interest. She had started young constructing things out of sticks and rocks and whatever else she felt might work. Duff had been amazed at her skill. Unfortunately, things did not go well the day he left her to guide a group of men in the building of a stone shed. She had handled it poorly, making fools of the men instead of stroking their fragile egos. Duff refused to let her tag along with him after that. It was around the same time Lawler and Cadell had arrived and life for her and her sisters had fallen apart.
There was a tale more disputed than believed about someone in the village she sought who had survived an encounter with the witch. Some claimed he told nothing but a wild tale for the attention it brought him while others shivered at the telling of it. She hoped to find the man and judge for herself. It was worth a try, or she would be searching every hill around.
Annis hastened her pace to outrun the gray skies darkening in the distance behind her. She took a chance traveling on her own, no man to protect her. But it was better she did. She had no one to order her about or disagree with her. Any mistakes she made were of her own doing and was a good reason to avoid making mistakes in the first place.
It wasn’t until a couple of hours later as she climbed a small rise that she wondered if the village the men had whispered about actually existed. Then she topped the rise and smiled.
Down below nestled in a small valley sat a village. She let her eyes roam over the few cottages and buildings of various sizes. She saw no indication of allegiance to any particular clan, but then many outlying villages appeared neutral, a good way to gather information to help protect their clan. Annis squared her shoulders and proceeded down the hill.
Though small as villages go, it appeared well kept. The men and women busy with tasks or engaged in conversation eyed her skeptically as she made her way slowly through the village. She had expected someone to approach her, a stranger in their midst, to inquire about her presence, but none did. They kept their distance.
Finally, she spotted an older woman sitting outside her cottage at a small table fashioning a sizeable splinter off a fresh bone into a needle. A common interest always helped to start a conversation with a stranger.
“I can help you with that,” Annis said when she reached the woman.
“How do I know you don’t mean to steal my needles?” the woman accused.
Annis chuckled. “I hate to sew. I haven’t got a lick of talent for it, but I do enjoy making the needles for my sister, who is talented with stitches.”
“Show me,” the woman said, pointing to the needle she was working on.
Annis looked over the stones on the small table used to shape the bone, chose one, and got busy.
The woman watched with interest and her eyes brightened, seeing how skilled Annis was at the task. “Can you do more than one for me?”
“I can get a few done for you,” Annis offered.
“What do you want in exchange?” the woman asked, her eyes skeptical once again.
“Some information and a warm place to stay for the night.”
“What kind of information?” the woman asked, a bit uncertain.
“I heard that a man who supposedly had an encounter with the witch in the hills resides here and I’d like to speak with him.”
The old woman grew cautious. “Why do you want to do that?”
Annis was blunt and honest. “To save my sister, Bliss, who was forced to wed Lord Rannick, one of the cursed lords.”
The old woman’s mouth dropped open briefly, then a smile broke out across her face and tears gathered in her eyes. “Bless your sister Bliss, bless her. We were told that men would be coming here to find wives for the cursed lords and feared one or more of our women would be chosen and with our village part of Clan MacRae, home to Lord Brogan, we would have little choice but to surrender any woman chosen. We were so relieved to learn that a woman had unselfishly offered herself to the cursed lord and that the search for wives for the other two cursed lords had been halted. You are most welcome here.”