“Unless I miss me guess, you’ve been back to yuir own time,” she says softly. “Ach, cannot have you dressed like that. You’ll raise too many eyebrows and there’s already too much to not trust without adding wood to the fire.”

I don’t try to hold back my smile. Alesoun is one of only two people, well two humans, who know my truth. More than knowing, she protects me in the best way she can, by helping me to blend in.

The inside of the stone house is a step down onto a hard packed dirt floor. There are pallets lining all the walls with a walkway along the center. In the middle is a firepit filled with glowing coals. It’s stifling hot and smoky inside. Soot covered beams hold up the sod ceiling. It’s primitive but welcoming and familiar.

Alesoun keeps a firm grip on my hand and pulls me across the space to a far corner. There is a large woven basket with a lid that she lifts and sits aside as she kneels by it. She digs through the clothes inside and pulls out a blouse and a skirt.

“Ach, change, quick now. They won’t be outside for long. How many have seen yuir dress?”

I pause midway through stripping off my jeans to shrug. “I’m not sure. All of them?”

Alesoun tsks once again and shakes her head. “It cannae be helped. Hurry.”

I finish getting undressed and Alesoun stares at my underwear with wide eyes.

“Your undergarments are an invitation to the devil himself,” she mutters, turning her head to the side and holding the skirt out. “Dress yourself before we’re all doomed to burn.”

My cheeks warm at her admonishment and I step into the skirts. My underwear isn’t that immodest for my time. I’m very self-conscious about it now though. I thought they were pretty, a pair of Victoria’s Secret pink boy shorts with a matching bra, but she’s right. They’re not appropriate for this century.

Alesoun grabs my clothes and buries them deep in her basket, then gives me a once-over. She tugs and straightens until I feel well and truly bound by the heavy clothing. The nice part is that the clothes are warm. The Highlands are cold at this height. I’m not sure how close to winter we are but it will be rough if it’s close.

“Better?”

“Aye.” She nods approval. “We best return outside before we’re missed.”

“Alesoun?”

“Aye, lass?”

“Is Duncan here? Have you seen him?”

The stricken look on her face makes my heart stop and my stomach clench tight.

“Oh, lass.”

“No.” I shake my head, tears falling before I can even think of stopping them. I choke on my words, barely getting them out. “No, he’s alive. Right? He is. He has to be.”

“Lass,” she says, grabbing my hands in hers. “I don’t know. We fled the village, and he hadn’t returned.”

“So he’s alive.”

“I can’t say that.”

“He is.”

I say it with all the certainty I can muster. She purses her lips, then nods.

“Aye, lass, I’m sure he is.”

She walks towards the door, but I stop her.

“Alesoun, how long have I been gone?”

“A month or so,” she says. “I’ve lost track of the days, but it’s been at least that long.”

A month. I’ve been gone almost as long as I was here the first time.I frown and follow her back out to the gathering.

People are milling about and trying to find a place to put their belongings. Displaced refugees looking for any stable spot they can make their own. I pick up a basket and help the mother I helped earlier as she walks towards the cave with many of the others.


Tags: Miranda Martin Paranormal