Creag was relieved when Jock stopped at a point on the shore and began to unbuckle his belt. The lad took off his leather shoes and plaid, standing only in his tunic, and started wading into the water. He winced and he called out, “Hurry up! It feels warm.”
This made Creag laugh. “The look on yer face tells me different.”
His fingers tried to loosen the knotted leather Kristie had wrapped about his waist. When he finally unfastened it, he dropped it to the ground and pulled off the plaid. He did not want to lose his walking stick, so he dropped it on top of his clothing before limping carefully into the water until he could immerse himself up to his chest and lift up his legs. The fabric of his tunic floated around him.
“It feels grand, does it not?” Jock shouted and splashed him.
Creag laughed again, closing his eyes against the spray of drops. The cold water might have bothered some, but not him. It was soothing on his knee, and once he dunked his head under, he fought the urge to remain submerged.He slicked his hair back from his face, careful not to touch his temple like he had the previous day, not wanting to trigger a headache or dizzy spell. Water funneled down his neck and back, and when the breeze touched his wet pores, goose bumps rose on his arms and chest.
From a short distance away, Jock asked, “Do ye know how to swim?”
“I dinnae know,” Creag answered honestly.
“Watch me.” The lad dipped under the water. One arm lifted and plunged below the surface before the other did the same. Jock propelled himself along the shore, moving north. His exuberance was amusing.
Creag watched him go farther and farther away and sucked in a mouthful of water to spray out. The taste of saltwater on his tongue was familiar. He racked his mind to understand why, though no reason came. Instead, his dream of the seal flitted through his thoughts, and a strange sensation radiated out from his torso to the rest of his body. His pores tingled and stung. Creag pinched his eyes shut and lay back into the water, hoping it would go away. Before long, it did.
When he blinked up at the cloudy sky, his vision blurred. His head must have been playing tricks on him again. He blinked and tried to wipe the water from his eyes, but a gray flap of rubbery skin brushed over his face instead. He lifted his lower extremities from the water, expecting to see his legs and toes, and found dappled ribbed flippers fanned out.
A snort escaped his mouth as he sank beneath the surface of the loch. Surprisingly, his eyesight sharpened, and he saw far more clearly than he had in open air. He held his breath and felt his nose pinch shut on its own. Creag stared at what should have been pale-colored flesh, but his human body was nowhere to be found. A smooth, spotty gray torso stretched down to a splay of hind flippers.
He rolled in the water, spinning out of his tunic. His muscles flexed and moved in unison. Without understanding why, he knew he was no longer the shape of a man, but a seal. Fear and disgust were far from reach. Rather than seeking an answer, he embraced the realization, turned onto his belly and used his hind flippers to propel himself forward, momentarily forgetting about Jock.
His sleek body sped through the water, reminiscent of his dream. With every thrust, he went faster. His fore flippers allowed him to turn and adjust course. It was a thrill as he undulated and rocketed beneath the surface of the loch. Fish darted away from him as he went. Little did he care; it was the diversion and enjoyment he responded to, or maybe it was something else entirely—the sense of belonging.
Then Creag thought of Jock’s selkie story. He may have discounted it as an imaginative tale about magic and wishful thinking at the time, but now it gave him pause. He didn’t understand how he’d taken the form of a seal. Maybe fairy magic was involved. He was no closer to understanding who he truly was, though he’d discovered an unexpected piece to the mystery.
A concerning realization entered his mind. He didn’t know how his magic worked or how he’d changed into a seal to begin with. Jock had mentioned selkies shedding their skins on shore to walk on land as humans. Creag didn’t know the first thing about how it worked.
Then he heard the boy’s calls, and he lifted his snout above the surface of the water. With his blurry eyesight, he spotted the lad holding his tunic out of the water.
“Creag, come back. Ye swam out of yer clothes!”
Creag began to feel a little frantic. He wanted to return to his human form, but he didn’t know how. He could tell from the lad’s tone he was beginning to get worried, and that was only natural. Creag couldn’t blame him.
“Creag!”
He thought of the moments before he’d changed into a seal, how it felt to be human, and a tingling sensation traced down his spine. Heat radiated throughout his body.
He righted himself in the water, putting his feet down, and they touched the rocky bottom. Creag held out his hands in front of his face and sighed in relief. It was then he realized he was pain free. His knee didn’t ache under the pressure of his weight, and when he reached down to touch it, he couldn’t find any bruising, swelling or scrapes. Creag immediately felt his temple. The lump that had been so sensitive and sore had disappeared.
Just then Jock noticed him a distance away and shouted again, “There ye be. Did ye really swim that far?”
“Aye.”
Creag began to swim back, utterly confused about the magic that had healed his wounds. If he couldn’t understand it, then no one else would. He brushed his hair over his forehead to help cover his temple. In such a superstitious place, it would be best to hide his miraculous recovery from everyone for now.
Jock threw his wet clothing to him, and it slapped against the water’s surface, splashing him in the face. Though it was hard to put it back on, he slipped the tunic over his head and pretended to limp out of the loch.
“We best get back before they think I stole ye away,” he mumbled.
Jock groaned and followed him out, while Creag came to a realization. If Jock’s tale was true, then he couldn’t be anything but a selkie.
The pony carried Kristie up the slope. The loch wasn’t visible from here, only the brown ridges that were losing the fight against the green shoots, sprouting with the change of season. Her steed’s hooves swept through the carpet of sage-green heather. Kristie had no interest in coaxing the beast to move faster. Instead, she watched the scenery change from her seat on the pony’s back while her thoughts kept to the things that needed tending back home. The slate-gray clouds had broken up, and the sun’s light now touched much of the landscape. The sharp wind softened to a gentle caress, though she barely noticed.
Once the bluebells came into view, her focus on her chores faltered. Kristie’s cheek quivered, and she lifted her hand to her mouth.
The periwinkle blooms shook their heads in the breeze. A blanket of blue swept across the valley at the foot of an alder grove. The forest floor had appeared just as it did now when Seonaid was put to rest last spring with a flowering bouquet resting on her chest.
Kristie pulled on the pony’s bridle, and the creature came to a stop. She got down, adjusting the folds of her skirt before bending down to pick a bundle of flowers. She pinched her eyes shut as she breathed in their dewy aroma, and the memory of her little girl’s pale little fingers seeming to clutch their green stems consumed her thoughts. It was something she’d tried to keep at bay—the memories that caused her sadness.
This was why she kept herself busy. If she had other things to do and think about, then she wouldn’t be forced to dwell on the reason she was so empty inside.
The pony’s gentle snorting drew her from the dark place in her heart, and she opened her eyes. She stared back at the nag, whose fixed gaze was focused on her alone. Kristie sighed, and with the bouquet of bluebells pressed to the breast of her plaid, she climbed onto the animal’s back.
There were plenty of things for her to worry about as she led the pony to the parish church. Like when and if her brother would return to help plow and sow their fields. The heifers that hadn’t frozen or s
tarved to death over winter would soon be dropping their bairns, and Domnall knew how to spot a mother in distress. He had a way with cattle. Kristie had tried to learn from him, but she’d never quite mastered his ability. Maybe it had something to do with her view of them as lazy, foolish creatures. All they did was stand about and chew on shoots of grass. But she respected their importance to the family. The cows were how they made their rent and supported themselves.
Kristie didn’t like leaving the outsider back at the farm with Jean for the day. She thought he had honest eyes, but what if she’d been wrong about that? What if he was from the Campbell clan, searching for cattle to raid? Kristie thought again of the stranger’s handsome face. Maybe she’d been befuddled by his good looks and his blended accent. Her sister-in-law knew how to take care of herself, though she wasn’t in the best condition of late.
She considered turning around and going back. Too many chores had to get done if they were to make it through the next winter with the addition of a bairn. Kristie sniffed.
Her journey had come to an end. The wooden church could be seen over the dale. The fields surrounding it were changing color from brown to green. Now that it was in her view, she couldn’t go home yet. She led the pony to the stretch of land that held the deceased kin of much of the parish. Some had simple grave markers. Few could afford carved stones. There were others who could only place stacked stones distinguishing the place their loved one was buried.
Kristie dismounted and led the nag behind her as she searched for the place her Seonaid had been put to rest. She had selected the stone that was laid over her grave, and she searched for it now. The ground was not freshly overturned as it had been last year. Green shoots of grass clung to the earth, hiding the bones interred below. She was sure she was near. Her breath caught in her throat, and she grew anxious.
Moments ago she had fought the urge to turn back home, but now all she wanted was to find her daughter’s grave. It was just as her vision blurred and she spun from one direction to another that she saw it: the flat rock partially obscured by low-lying heather.
A strangled gasp broke from her lips as she sank to the ground to touch the stone marker. The bluebells, still pressed to her bosom, hung their lavender heads in mourning. Kristie laid them against the rock just as a tear fell from her cheek. She sniffed and grasped the base of the heather, trying to wrestle it free from the ground. It held fast, but she was determined. With a roar, she finally pulled its roots from the earth, uncovering more of her Seonaid’s rock.
She knelt at the grave with the heather still clutched in her hand, sniffling. Kristie knew her bairn was safe in heaven with her husband. She’d been assured as much by the priest of this parish. Nevertheless, she was alone. If she was selfish for wanting her child with her, then she would accept it.
“Can I give ye a hand, lass?”
Kristie whipped around. Behind her stood the parish priest. His long, dark cassock hung to the ground. Sunlight touched the top of his shaved head, and his brown locks were brushed in place at the base of his head. He frowned down at her with a curious expression.
“No thank ye, Father.” She glanced down at the heather hanging from her hand and cast it aside. “I thought I would tidy Seonaid’s spot since I had a horrible time findin’ it.”
“Oh, I see.” The priest nodded and looked at the stone nestled into the grass and ground cover. “I dinnae think I have seen ye come ’round for some time. It pleases me finding ye here.”
She lowered her gaze and sniffed. “It was the Yule when I last came with my kin.”
“Well, the Lord watches over ye now, so long as ye keep him in yer heart.”
“Oh, I do, Father. I cannae help that my heart is filled with sadness, remembering her.” Her lip began to quiver and she knelt down again to touch the stone.
The priest clasped his hands together and said, “Ye might be finding that more visits to the kirk, not less, will have the effects ye seek. But I understand the loss of a wee bairn is not like any other.”
Kristie nodded, but couldn’t speak.
“Ye brother in the fields, laying the seeds?”
She shook her head and brushed the dirt from her hands. “He sailed off with Hendrie the other day, but they have not returned. We have prayed for their return.”
Kristie stood up, venturing a glance at the priest, whose gloomy expression only made her fear all the more. He bowed his head and muttered, “I will join in yer prayers. Perchance on yer return home, he will be waiting on ye.”
“I thank ye, Father,” she answered before turning to her pony. “Ye will be sure to see me soon. Jean’s bairn will be born. Another baptism will be coming soon enough.”
She waved goodbye from atop her nag and turned the pony toward home. The creature hadn’t taken more than a step before the priest exclaimed, “Oh, dinnae go off without hearing the news! During the Lord of Ile’s celebration of All Soul’s Day, his bard will be seeking an apprentice by way of who tells the best yarn. I thought of Hendrie’s fosterling—always gabbing about the faerie folk.”
“Oh aye, I will be sure to let him know,” Kristie answered. “Thank ye.”
“God’s blessings,” she heard him say as she moved farther from the kirk’s land.
The blue skies reined in more clouds, and by the time she’d returned to their strip of land on the loch, the sun was hidden again, though she was sure it was touching the horizon from the rumblings in her belly.
The smell of smoke carried on the wind from their cruck house. She imagined Jean bent over the hearth, tending to their evening meal. There would be no meat or fish available, but Kristie didn’t care. The hollowness in her belly was a pain she wanted to put right.
Kristie nudged the pony to move faster, leading it to the byre behind the home. When she turned the corner, she dismounted and led the nag into the shadows of the animal shed. Creag sat on the ground with his walking stick across his lap.
When he heard her enter, he cast a glance her way and said, “I be glad to see ye return safe. The weather was kind while ye were gone.”
She’d never thought of the weather as being kind. It always seemed to do its will, no matter the distress it caused. Kristie didn’t say a word in response, but unbuckled the bridle from her pony’s head and patted its rear, sending it forward to feed beside the other horses. She gathered the leather strap in her hand and went to hang it from one of many available pegs on the wall.
“I see ye got plenty of rest while I was away,” she commented.
Creag looked up at her. His dark hair fell in waves around his face. “Not much else I can do. Had me some fun with Jock.”
“Ye did, did ye?” she asked. “Not many folk can boast having the time for much of that.”
“What ye speaking of? Fun? It cannae be that scant.”
She returned her gaze to Creag, feeling agitated with his leisurely attitude. “For those who understand their responsibilities, it be a choice to do what needs doing instead of wasting their time with foolery and laziness.”
“Oh. I see.” Creag sniffed and glanced at her out of the corner of his eyes. “That would be a bad day to be sure if the land were filled with folk who stopped to have a bit of fun.”
“Jock be a fine lad. He does not need to be led astray by a fellow who mocks those who work hard for what they have.” She pressed her lips together in annoyance.
Creag smirked and put his hands up. “I think ye misunderstand me. I have all the respect in the world for those like yerself. I do. And I agree with ye that Jock be a good lad. I asked him if he was needed back home what with his uncle gone, but he seemed resolved to stay by my side all day.”
She stood in awkward silence for a short time. Kristie didn’t know what to say. Her day had been a long and challenging one, and her mind was numb. All she wanted was to fill her belly and find some rest. There would be plenty of work waiting for her at sunup. Her thoughts never strayed far from the task at hand.
Crea
g twisted his walking stick in his hands and lifted his eyes to her face. “Jock told me where ye were off to today.”
“He shared my private business, did he? So, ye want to see me blubber and wail, bringing that up?” She stiffened and turned for the doorway.
His voice called after her. “Nay, please dinnae be taking it that way. I just wanted to say that I am sorry to hear of yer loss. It cannae be easy.”
Kristie turned around and waved her hand in the air as she said, “I dinnae recollect being told life would be easy. Ye must plod on and hold yer chin high, though it might be the hardest thing ye do.”
Creag frowned and seemed to want to say something in response but held his tongue. So Kristie took the opportunity to continue proving her point. “Even when I could nay find her grave marker, overgrown as it was, I kept searching ’til I found it. Keep fighting ’til the last.”
“Ye are strong and persistent as the wind, to be sure.”
The way it was spoken, she was unsure whether it was intended as a compliment or criticism. She scowled in response, too tired for niceties.
Kristie stepped out of the byre and stared at the glassy loch under the darkening sky. Ripples of movement cast out from fish and marine animals. Still no sign of her brother and his friend. She was glad to know others were out looking, for she had no energy left that day.
Before she walked off, she said over her shoulder, “Ye be sure to stay to the byre. I will bring yer meal before long.”
“Thank ye, Kristie.” His voice trailed after her as she rounded the corner of the home.
The sound of her name on his lips made her uneasy. It was too familiar, and he was too lighthearted for her liking. There were things to do, which he didn’t seem to understand. But at least he would be leaving soon.
Chapter 5
The sounds around him were muted, except for the sloshing current and movement nearby. Very little light filtered through the water, though his eyes still cut through the dim. He felt himself speed through the depths without effort. Beside him, a gray body raced to keep up. When he adjusted his head to look, wide eyes stared back at him. A pointed snout with whiskers led the way.
Outsider (Time of Myths: Shapeshifter Sagas Book 4) Page 5