Chapter 1

"It will scar," Nora said softly as she turned the young man's hand between her fingers, gently prodding the raw, glistening flesh. Glancing upward, she watches his mouth form a thin line, a vain attempt to mask the pain and discomfort. Still, his tenacity impressed her.

Reaching behind her, she grabbed the round bottle from the small table. Inside, it glowed amber with speckles of green. The salve was a mixture of honey and sage, which would hopefully relieve the pain while keeping the flesh supple still.

Nora, with her most gentle touch, began to slather handfuls on the raw skin. "So, are ye goin' to tell me how it happened, Angus? Or do I even wish to ken?"

Already, she had cleaned the burn from his palm to his forearm with watered-down vinegar, which seemed to offer some immediate relief. She suspected that he had fallen into a fire, catching himself with his hand and arm, but she was curious about just how he had managed to get such an injury.

He grimaced, the memory fresh in his mind. "Swear to secrecy?"

"Of course," she said as she continued to work, coating the burn in the salve. The honey was sticky and thick. It was a sensation that she truly hated, but it was the most effective remedy in this case.

"It was a dare," he admitted sheepishly, holding his arm up as he examined it. He turned it, the honey glistening in the dim light of the house. "One of the lads dinnae think I could clear the fire pit."

Nora stifled a chuckle. "I think he might've been right, lad."

"Aye, but daenae tell him that if he asks."

Leaning back, she admired her handiwork, then turned to the table at her side. She quickly washed her hands in the bowl of water there and then dried them on her apron.

She picked up a length of clean, thin cloth and turned back to the man. "I hope ye learned yer lesson."

"Ye and me both, lassie." He nodded, watching as she began to wrap his hand and arm with the bandage. It did not take long until the burn was completely covered, and she secured the binding with a neat, little knot. The young man then turned his head, his gaze lowering. "About the payment?—"

"I need a favor from ye," Nora said with a frown, turning back to the table as she began to organize the items scattered about.

In truth, there was very little that she needed, but it would serve as something. She knew that the village was poor, made mostly of farmers, and she did not expect much.

"A favor?"

She nodded. "Will ye feed me horse and Jamie? Mrs. McLeod and meself will be pickin' some herbs, but I daenae ken when we will return."

"Aye, lass. But?—"

"That's all I need from ye," she said, a finality in her tone.

He was too smart of a man to know to argue with her, but he thanked her for her help and rose from the stool he had been sitting on. The young man was short, lean, appearing almost unfed. She did not doubt that he intended to pay her with what little he had, but she could not stand to take it from him.

After he had left the small, dimly lit home, she found herself completely alone. Her eyes slowly scanned the walls, taking in the cramped space with a frown. Despite its humble appearance, it was the cleanest home in the village. It belonged to a short, fiery woman named Mrs. McLeod, who had graciously welcomed her without hesitation.

She had spent two days in the village thus far, tending to wounds and ailments within her means. But it was one of many places she had and would come to. Nora had been traveling the countryside in MacRoss lands, but this place, in particular, was close to the boundary.

Stepping outside, she was greeted by the soft patter of rain. The world around her was various shades of green and gray, deary yet a welcome respite from the confines of the darkened house. Cool droplets kissed her cheeks as she turned her chin upwards, soaking in the sensation. Closing her eyes, Nora took a deep breath.

Nearly half a dozen patients in one afternoon.

Her mind drifted to the various injuries she had treated. Thankfully, none were severe, but they still required her attention. It was still tedious work, but she was content with it.

"Are ye ready, lass?"

Nora opened her eyes and turned to the source of the voice. Mrs. McLeod stood, her arisaid covering her flaming red curls, with her arms crossed over her generous chest. She was older than Nora. The fine lines in the corners of her eyes and around her mouth had aged her considerably, but Nora was still certain she was younger than she appeared.

"Aye, just a moment." Nora nodded and turned her attention to the fence that ran along the muddy road.

On the other side was a dusty-looking horse, staring back at her, unblinking. Her gaze then flicked to a small, crude-looking cart, and underneath it was a large mass of gray fur.

As she approached the cart, the Deerhound raised his head, watching her for a moment before lowering it again. He was unbothered and tired. The local children had absolutely adored him, and Nora suspected he was hiding from them now, taking a much-needed nap.

Nora knelt and craned her neck to get a better look at him. Jamie regarded her with a yawn, revealing his sharp white teeth. She had gotten him as a means of protection while on the road alone, and though he appeared intimidating with his massive size, he was a sweetheart.

She reached out and scratched his ear. "Stay here."

Grabbing one of the woven baskets from her cart, she went back to where Mrs. McLeod was waiting for her. The rain had settled into a soft mist, creating a hazy fog just above the ground.

"Shall we, then?"

Side-by-side, the two women walked down the wet, winding path. Ahead of them, Nora could make out the encroaching forest. Just beyond it, there was said to be a meadow where all sorts of flora could be found. She was excited to see what waited for her, knowing her stocks were becoming more and more sparse.

The air was fresh, and Nora could not help but take deep, savoring breaths. Above them, the dark clouds had rolled across the sky, and the sun was trying desperately to peek through.

"Where do ye come from, lassie? Ye daenae seem like a vagrant," Mrs. McLeod said with a curious, little smile. She looked up at Nora, her dark green eyes seeming to be looking for any clues about the enigmatic healer.

Nora raised an eyebrow. "What makes ye say such a thing?"

She had been particularly careful not to give away too much about herself. Though she felt confident enough that she could trust Mrs. McLeod, she still kept her identity hidden. After all, she was not on MacRoss lands any longer.

I should write to them.

Quickly, she pushed the thoughts that had risen to the surface back down. Nora felt her muscles tense, and she drew a deep breath, holding it as she focused her attention ahead. The forest was looming closer now, and she could make out how the path seemed to weave between the trees.

She was gripping her own basket, which was propped on her hip, tightly. Glancing down, she saw that her knuckles had turned white, and she relaxed her hand slightly.

"Well, ye are too bonny, and ye have all yer teeth." Mrs. McLeod chuckled, looking ahead as well.

It did not seem like she intended to pry too much about Nora's past, and for that, the healer was beyond grateful.

"Ye seem to have yers, too. Are ye nae a village lass?"

Surprisingly, Mrs. McLeod's expression shifted, turning almost severe. And yet Nora could see there was a hint of sadness. "Nay, ‘tis mostly me husband's family ‘round here," she said, casting a glance over her shoulder towards the way they had come. A frown contorted her features as she returned her focus ahead. "I come from Buckhan lands."

Immediately, Nora understood the change in the older woman's demeanor. She knew of Laird Buckhan, and his grisly reputation that followed him like the darkest of shadows.

"He's a monster—Laird Buckhan." Mrs. McLeod's voice turned bitter, as if there were a bad taste in her mouth. Her face scrunched up, and she shifted the basket she carried to her other hip, her hand tightening on the handle. "They call him Madadh-allaidh, the Wolf."

Nora had not known this. "Why such a name?"

It sounds a wee bit pretentious.

"For he would tear ye to pieces and devour ye for his pack," Mrs. McLeod answered, her words hanging heavily in the damp air. "Me kin have always feared the man since he became the Laird. He has a thirst for blood and is as cruel as can be. They say he doesnae take prisoners often, and when he does… well, they beg him for death in his dungeons."

Nora felt a shiver start at the base of her neck and then run down her spine. She straightened her posture, wiggling her shoulders slightly in an attempt to shake off the feeling. The mention of dungeons was enough to turn her thoughts dark. Unwanted sensations and images flashed in her mind. Closing her eyes tightly for a moment, she willed the thoughts away, and they faded.

"We're here," Mrs. McLeod said.

As Nora emerged from the shadowed tree line and into the warmth of the sun-drenched meadow, she let out a breath of relief. The long grass swayed gently in the breeze, blades rippling and bending like waves in the sea. Water droplets lingered on the green, glistening like diamonds.

Immediately, her attention was drawn to stocks of foxglove growing along the tree line. She smiled, almost bitterly. The plant had some uses, and in different circumstances, she might have plucked some, but she knew better than to pick them after the rain. It was best to pick the leaves dry.

At least I ken it is here for another time.

She continued to walk, her keen eyes fixed on the ground as she looked for anything that piqued her interest. Nora was well-versed in the native flora, and she immediately spotted some peppermint clusters. Kneeling, she set her basket down at her side. She broke a stem and brought the rich green leaves to her nose. She closed her eyes, savoring the scent. And then she heard a sound, almost a rumble.

Turning her head, she listened.

Running water.

Nora cast a glance at Mrs. McLeod, who was kneeling in the grass and filling her own basket, appearing lost in thought. She worked with an intensity that seemed almost relentless, and Nora thought it best not to bother her.

It did not take her long to find the riverbank. Her steps slowed as she gazed out at the shimmering waves and tuned her mind to the babbling water. It rolled over large, jutting rocks, their once-jagged surfaces smoothed by the persistent current.

Kneeling down at the edge, she dipped her fingertips into the water, watching intently as it rushed around them. Cupping her hands, she scooped up a handful and splashed it on her face. It was cool against her skin, offering a brief respite from the warmth of the sun overhead.

Bringing another handful to her lips, she drank and savored the crisp taste as it quenched her thirst. But then, she paused and turned her head away from the water, listening as an eerie feeling washed over her. A prickling sensation formed at the back of her neck, and she swallowed hard.

Someone is here.

Slowly, she rose to her feet and turned to face the trees. One thing she had learned from traveling alone, especially as a woman, was to always trust that sinking feeling in her gut. It told her something was wrong.

And then she saw them.

Their kilts were matching shades of green, which only seemed to help them blend effortlessly into their surroundings. One was tall, lean, with a thick beard that reached his collar. The other was shorter, stout, but from the way he moved, she assumed he was made of mostly crude muscle.

"Easy now, lass," the tall one said, his voice low and raspy.

This isnae good.

Glancing behind her, she realized she was trapped between the men and the rushing river. Nora frowned, straightened her posture, and held her head high as she regarded the two. Her gaze flicked past them, along the narrow path that led back to the meadow, and she could only hope that Mrs. McLeod was all right.

Within an instant, they were on her. Quicker than she had expected, the short one covered her mouth, immediately silencing her cries for help as he slipped behind her. He pinned her arm behind her back, rendering her immobile. The hold wasn't painful, but it was forceful and caused discomfort.

Without a second thought, she sank her teeth into his palm with all the force she could muster. The metallic tang of blood was enough to make her want to gag, but she did not stop biting, not until he recoiled and cursed. Free from his grasp, she was propelled forward, and the muddy riverbank rose to meet her face.

Looking up, she could see the taller man approaching.

"We will take ye kickin' and screamin'. Doesnae matter to us, but we'd prefer to do it kindly," he said, his voice laced with a chilling calmness that sent shivers down her spine. "But ye're comin' with us."