Good or bad, Alesoun and I have been firmly placed in the ‘old ways’ group, by our choice or not. Two women drag another woman between them into the cave. The sun shining behind them casts their figures in relief so I can’t see who they are until they drag their unwilling companion closer. The moment they step out of the blinding sun I recognize Agnes. My stomach clenches as a cold sweat beads on my forehead. My tormentor, the one woman who, formerly at least, held sway over most of the women in the clan.

Agnes has a nasty looking gash on her forehead. Blood trickles down her face and is crusting over one eye. She looks harsh as ever, glaring at Alesoun and I with her open eye. Alesoun walks around the rock to the group, stopping in front of Agnes.

“Agnes, please. Let us tend your wound.”

“I’ll not be tainted by your evil ways,” Agnes says. “You brought all this on us. This is our punishment from the Almighty for courting the devil and letting you live amongst us.”

Alesoun physically jerks away as if she was slapped by the harsh words. I know only too well how tentative the relationship was between her and the clan before I arrived. Agnes was the leader of the womenfolk and never liked Alesoun, but this is too far.

“That’s enough,” I say, stepping around the table and marching up to the three women. Agnes shifts her glare to me. “You are hurt. Alesoun is offering to help you. If you want to be nasty, hateful, and mean, then I don’t think you understand a word that was written by the Almighty. Jesus taught kindness and told his followers to be like him.”

“The Devil’s tongue is like honey,” Agnes says with a harsh grimace.

“And you’re a fool,” I say, grabbing her arm from the two women who stare with wide eyes and open mouths.

I don’t give Agnes a choice, dragging her over to our makeshift table. She tries to pull away but I grab her shoulders and twist so her back is to the flat rock, then push and she has no choice but to sit.

“Let me go.”

“When I’ve tended your wound.”

“I’ll not have your enchantments.”

“Agnes, you don’t like me. Fine. I am too tired to care. You go right on hating me all you want if it makes you feel better. But,” I hold my finger up in front of her face, waggling it before her open eye, “I am a healer. You are hurt. I am going to tend your wound. It doesn’t matter if you like me, or I like you. Now shut up and let me work.”

Her open mouth snaps shut, and though she continues to glare she doesn’t say anything more. Alesoun and the two women don’t move either, watching as I get a cloth and cleanse the wound of blood and debris. Agnes whimpers, softly, but I know the pain must be intense.

It’s a skull wound so it is bleeding far in excess of its depth. Once I’ve gotten it clean, I see it’s going to need a couple of stitches. When I move to get the needle and thread Agnes tries to get up off the table.

“Stay. I’m not done.”

She looks defiant for only a moment, but then she drops her eyes and slides back onto the table. I stitch the wound and she doesn’t resist. When I’m done, I inspect the work. It will leave a scar but it’s not bleeding, and she will be fine in a few days. I spread some salve over it then wrap a loose bandage to keep dirt off it.

“Are you done?” she asks.

“Aye.”

She slides off the table, gives the two women with Alesoun a dirty look as she harumphs, then walks out of the cave without so much as a thank you. The two women who came with her watch her retreat then look at me.

“Thank you,” one of them says.

“Of course,” I say. “We are healers. It is what we do.”

They nod and leave and then Alesoun and I are alone. I clean up in silence, but Alesoun’s glances make it clear she has something to say. As I finish wiping off the table she speaks.

“This is the worst I’ve ever seen,” she says.

“It is horrible. The way they’re hunting MacGregors is crazy.”

“Not that.”

I stop mid-wipe. Alesoun is pale and her eyes are sunken. She’s twisting her hands in her skirts, bunching the fabric tight. She’s tense and nervous in a way I’ve never seen.

“What is it?” I ask.

She looks furtively around, then moves in closer and whispers.

“The clan is dividing,” she says. “I’ve never seen the like of it.”


Tags: Miranda Martin Paranormal