Chapter 39

SOUND OF PABAY - SEPTEMBER 28, 1385

T he shock of frigid water. The undertow pulling her down, down, down. This wasn't a memory. It was happening again. Salt stung the injuries to Moira's face, hands, and head. Struggling not to gasp, she moved her arms and legs and tried to swim toward the surface as she had with Léo in Albhainn Pond but couldn't escape the strong current. Head over heels, she tumbled through the violent waves, being sucked deeper and deeper through the surf. Her lungs burned with their need for air. Mouth opening, she released a long-held breath and sucked in cold, salty water.

A feeling of peace settled over her as memories flashed in rapid succession through her mind. Léo's kisses upon her lips. The warm joy of resting in her Da's arms as he climbed with her up the stairs toward bed. The feeling of soaring through the trees and flying. Maw's prayers over her at bedtime. Father scrubbing the wee beasties away. This life has been sweet.

And then, more memories. No, not memories. Things that would never be. A wedding ring slid onto her finger, followed by a kiss. Gabriel laughing with her in the trees. Running beside her friends as they trained. Waking in Léo's arms in a home by the sea. Sunsets sketched upon paper. Léo's lips upon her stomach and the baby growing within. A daughter with unruly blond curls and honey brown eyes wrapping her arms around her neck as she carried her to bed. Her heart broke for all the things she would miss, and she found herself reluctant to die.

Lost somewhere within the dark waves, she reached out her hands and signed. Jesus, please save me.

Light extinguished, her arms went limp, but a strong hand wrapped around her own, pulling her rapidly toward something unseen. Shooting through the deep, she mushroomed through the waves, faster and faster through the unsettled sea.

Something collided with her chest like a pony kick as she broke the surface. Vomiting water, she coughed and choked, tightening her hold on the object that had crashed into her. Blinking water drops from her eyes, she shivered and shook, realizing she was clinging to a branch.

Tears of thankfulness spilled from her eyes and a hoarse sob escaped from her chest as she looked around and saw the prison far behind her. The stormy current was carrying her toward Skye, not out to sea.

In his mercy, God had swept her closer toward her destination than she would have been had she taken a boat. Warmth grew in her heart. This was not punishment, it was blessing. God had saved her and watched over her just as he had when she was four years old. Beside her always, strengthening her always, loving her always. He always had, and he always would.

The pieces of her past fitted together and a weight lifted from her shoulders. Though she had been swept away, she had never been lost. Though she no longer had the ability to speak, God had amplified her voice in rare and beautiful ways. And though she had been separated from her natural family, God had given her a life of overflowing love. She didn't need to save herself, she needed to live in surrender.

The sun crept higher in the sky as she floated to shore. The attack would begin in minutes. Resolve strengthened her battered body and her tired spirit as she kicked toward the village.

As soon as she planted her feet upon the bracken-covered shore she began to run. Toward the attack. Toward danger. Toward Dun Ringill.

Toward Léo.