by Riley Moreno
Why couldn't she go out and explore the world, like her brothers had been able to? They had traveled all over Scotland – and not only that, they had traveled all over the British Isles, and through Europe too. Their father was an important man in the village; he and Jane's mother had been manufacturing a specific type of tartan cloth that sold very well all over Britain and in Europe. Jane, however, because she was a girl, was never allowed to travel with her brothers as they transported the cloth to clothing fairs all over Europe. Instead, her father made her do all the things that a servant would do, because, as much money as he had, he was too cheap and stingy to hire anyone.
Well, at least today's work was done, she thought to herself. The sun would be setting in an hour, so she at least had a little bit of light left with which to enjoy the rest of the day.
“Jane! Jane, where are you? There's another batch of oats that need milling!”
Her heart sank as she heard her father's croaky voice calling out to her. She could have sworn that she had finished milling all of the oats. Apparently though, there was still more to be done.
No.
Not now. Not when I've only got one hour to myself. I'm not going to have that hour taken away from me for work that doesn't even need to be completed in one damn day. No!
Jane peered out to the right, where the edge of the loch curved back. That was where their house was – a large stone cottage, bigger than most in the village. Her prison, as she sometimes thought of it. Her father was trudging around the garden outside the cottage, calling out her name. He hadn't seen her yet – and he wasn't going to either. She gathered her skirts up around her, bunching them above her long and slender thighs so that she could run. She took off at a fast pace towards the trees nearby, and reached them after a minute of heavy sprinting. Panting heavily once she was inside the cover of the trees, she turned around to stare back at the house. She breathed out a sigh of relief; her father hadn't seen her. He was still walking around the garden, shouting out her name. He would be angry when she came back, but that didn't matter. She would worry about that when the time came. For now, she had an hour or two to herself to relax, and to do whatever she felt like doing.
She turned around and started to skip along the narrow footpath that wound through the woods, humming a tune to herself as she did.
After a few minutes she reached a clearing in the woods, where a number of mushrooms and berries grew. She smiled to herself; if she picked a few mushrooms and berries, she would have a perfect excuse as to why she had been in the forest while her father was looking for her. She knelt down and started picking a few berries from a thorny bush.
“Oh, I wish something interesting would happen to me, just for once in my life,” she said quietly to herself.
“Be careful what you wish for, because you might just get it,” rasped a gruff, hoarse voice from the darkness behind her.
Jane jumped up in surprise; she had not expected anyone else to be here.
“Who's there?” she asked nervously. She knew every one of the villagers here, and many people from nearby villages, and this man's voice hadn't sounded like anyone's voice she recognized.
“Did you ever hear the story of the big, bad wolf?” growled the voice. “Because you look a lot like Red Riding Hood, oh yes, you do, you pretty young thing...”
Jane did not like the tone of the voice; there was more than a hint of menace in it.
“Who are you?” she asked again, her voice tremulous with sudden anxiety. “And what do you want? Come out so that I can see you! This isn't funny!”
“Well Little Red Riding Hood,” grunted the man, “I'm the Big Bad Wolf.”
He stepped out of the shadows, and Jane gasped in shock. He was a tall, lanky man, dressed in dirty and ragged clothes. He had a crooked nose that looked like it had been broken more than a few times, and one of his eyes was missing, with only an ugly, scarred socket remaining where it used to be. But most alarming was what he had in his hand – a long, rusty sword.
She turned around to run, with her heart pounding violently in her chest – and found that two other outlaws had crept out of the shadows to block her way.
“Wait,” she pleaded, “just wait, please... Don't hurt me, don't hurt me...”
“What's a beautiful young thing like this doing all by herself out here?” asked one, who was a pudgy, red-haired man wearing grimy green clothes. “She shouldn't be all alone out here. No, there are dangerous people in these woods.”
“That's right... Very dangerous men,” chuckled the other one, a thin, black-haired man in a smelly leather jacket. “Men who might want to use her body in all sorts of terrible ways.”
The first man licked his lips as he walked towards her.
“And what a body it is,” he commented as Jane, trembling with fear, backed away from him. “Look at those ripe, firm tits beneath her blouse. And that round ass, I bet you could crack a nut on it.”
“Oh, I'm going to crack something on it,” chuckled the red-haired one.
“Mmm,” said the thin one in the filthy leather jacket, “look at those beautiful eyes. I can't wait to see them looking up at me, while her pretty mouth is sucking on my-”
“Sucking on your what, scumbag?!”
All three of the men spun around to see whose voice this was – a strong, firm voice, deep with strength and authority. Standing at the edge of the clearing was a powerfully-built man. He was dressed in a white shirt and a green tartan kilt, and he stood tall on chiseled legs; his thighs and calves were ripped with bulging muscle. His arms were thick and similarly cut with hard muscle, and his shoulders were broad and strong. His face had the look of a classical statue, with a solid jawline – cleanly shaven – and a straight, perfectly-proportioned nose. Two piercing gray eyes burned with a furious fire beneath two arched, shapely eyebrows, and a mane of thick black hair flowed from his head and spilled down onto his neck and shoulders. In his hands he carried a hunting bow, with a quiver of arrows strapped to his back, and on his left hip hung a broadsword.
“If I were you, I'd start running right now,” he growled at the three men. “Let the girl go, and I'll let you live. It's your choice – run and live, or stay and die.”
“There's three of us, and one of you, Duncan MacDougal! It doesn't look like the odds are in your favor!” shouted the leader, the one with the long, rusty sword.
Duncan MacDougal! The famous – or rather, notorious – outlaw!
Jane felt a rush of excitement stirring up her blood. She had heard many tales of the handsome outlaw, who only stole from the corrupt and evil, and gave what he did not need to the sick, the needy and the poor. And here he was, rescuing her from three evil men!
“Turn and run now – this is the last time I'm telling you!” ordered Duncan. He notched an arrow to the bowstring and drew it back.
“Get him!” shouted the man with the rusty sword.
The thin man and the red-haired man both drew their daggers and charged with a roar at Duncan. Without even blinking, he fired an arrow straight at the thin man. The arrow flew fast and true, and went straight through the man's eye, killing him instantly. Duncan whipped out his sword and cut down the red-haired man with one powerful stroke. Then, with quiet menace burning in his eyes, he started to advance on the man with the rusty sword, who was now looking very nervous. Still, he was not going to surrender, and he raised his sword above his head and charged at Duncan with a harsh shout.
The ensuing swordfight was over in a matter of seconds. The outlaw stabbed at Duncan, who sidestepped the clumsy attack, turned his blade in mid-air and slashed it across the man's throat, killing him quickly. As the final outlaw dropped to the ground, dead, Duncan sheathed his sword and hurried over to Jane, who was staring in shock at the bloody scene before her.
“Are you alright, lass?” he asked in his deep, soothing voice.
“I'm-, I'm okay,” she managed to reply.
“Are you from the village just down there?”
<
br /> “Y-, y-, yes,” she stammered.
“You shouldn't be out in the woods at this time. There are many dangerous men around.”
“I-, I-, I was just p-, p-, picking berries and m-, m-, mushrooms...”
Her knees started to feel weak beneath her, and black spots started appearing on the edge of her vision. Duncan saw that she was going to faint, so he stepped in quickly and grabbed her with firm but gentle hands.
“Don't worry, I've got you,” he said.
He picked her up gently and held her in his arms.
“Good thing you don't weigh too much,” he chuckled. “Don't worry lass, I'll take you to the edge of the village. Your people will take care of you.”
He started carrying her through the forest, but she was still too shocked and stunned at what had just happened to say anything to him. After five minutes they emerged from the trees and he set her down on her feet.
“Th-, thank you,” she managed to say.
“It's alright,” he answered. “It's what any honorable man would have done. I may be an outlaw in name, but I value honor above everything else.”
He stared into her eyes, and she could have sworn that there was something – something potent, a spark of something passionate – in his gaze.
“You're a stunning beauty,” he said. “Forgive me, lass, but I had to say that.”
She felt her knees go weak at this.
“You're-”
“Shh,” he said, interrupting her. “Don't say anything. I must leave – if anyone from your village sees me, they'll be sure to call the King's soldiers. I am a wanted man with a price on my head, and you mustn't be seen talking to me. You could get in a lot of trouble.”
“But, you saved my-”
“I just did what any honorable man would have done.”
“But, I-”
“Hush lass, and farewell.”
As the darkness of the coming night fell, Duncan MacDougal turned on his heels, and without another word he dashed into the shadows and disappeared, leaving Jane alone.
CHAPTER 2
A month had passed since the incident with the outlaws in the forest. Jane had not spent a day without thoughts of Duncan running through her head, and she wondered if he too was thinking of her. She had certainly seen something in that look of his, that look that he had shot her just before he had disappeared back into the depths of the woods; attraction? Lust? Desire?
She could not deny that she felt these things for him. Emotions ran riot through her head when she thought about his piercing eyes, his broad, strong shoulders, his muscular arms and legs – and, of course, how much he valued honesty and honor.
The weather had started to turn cold now, cold and gray, and the first snows had started to fall. Jane couldn't help but wonder how Duncan, living in the forest as an outlaw, would survive the harsh winters. She and her family were warm and sheltered inside their stone cottage, with all the provisions they had prepared for the long winter, but outside, living off the land, it would be a struggle. The Highlands were not a hospitable or easy place to be in the depths of winter; only the most rugged and strongest of men could survive out there.
Jane sipped on her steaming hot lentil broth and stared at the fire that was crackling in the fireplace. Her father and mother sat in their chairs in silence, also sipping on the hot soup. Jane spoke up suddenly.
“Father,” she said, “what do you know of the story of Duncan MacDougal?”
“The outlaw?” he answered, raising one of his bushy eyebrows. “What about him? The man's dangerous, and needs to be caught and hanged for his crimes. Rumors are that he's been prowling the woods around this area. That's why we have to keep everything locked up at night.”
“What are his crimes, though? Why is he an outlaw?”
“Why do you want to know? What concern is it of yours?”
“I'm just curious, that's all.”
“Well, he poached the king's deer. That's a capital offense, in case you didn't know.”
“That's all he did? He shot a deer?”
“The king's deer! It's a crime! Nobody but the king is allowed to hunt those deer!”
“But when the king hunts them, he just kills them for sport and leaves the bodies to rot in the woods! These men who poach them only do so to feed their hungry families. Why should that be a crime? Isn't it more of a crime to let a family die of malnutrition and starvation?”
Her father's eyes bulged with anger and he slammed an angry fist down onto the armrest of his wooden chair.
“That's enough now! We're good, law-abiding subjects of the king here! I'll not have my daughter trying to defend the actions of a criminal! No more talk of this!”
Jane stood up and set her soup bowl down.
“I'm going to my room,” she said coldly.
“Fine.”
She strode off in a huff, leaving her father and mother to grumble amongst themselves about what she had just said. She walked up the stairs that lead to her bedroom, crossing her arms across her chest as she did. She walked in and slammed the door shut behind her, bolting it. She didn't want to talk to her parents again tonight; she felt far too annoyed and frustrated with their attitude. She walked over to the window and parted the curtains to look out into the night.
The moon was full, and she could see clearly out to the edge of the forest, which was thick with shadows. Moonlight gleamed across the surface of the loch in the distance, and all of the ground, with a light dusting of snow, looked like it was glowing silver in the light.
Just then, Jane saw something moving in the darkness of the trees at the edge of the woods. What was this? She craned her neck and squinted her eyes to try and see a bit more clearly. It was a man, sneaking out of the woods. A tall, powerfully-built man, with a thick mane of dark hair.
Her heart skipped a beat and she gasped with surprise: it was Duncan MacDougal!
For a few moments she stood still, almost paralyzed, as she tried to figure out what to do. All sorts of emotions and thoughts were running through her head. She knew that she could not call out to him, because her parents and neighbors would surely hear her cry. Still, she had to, had to get his attention somehow. She had been thinking of him so often recently, that it seemed as if this chance encounter must be fate at work.
She watched him in silence for a few more moments. He was kneeling down in her neighbor's garden, quietly digging up some of their turnips. A pang of pity shot through her body; here this noble man was, this hero who had saved her from an evil gang of outlaws, and he was reduced to stealing turnips from her neighbor's garden to survive.
She had to help, somehow – she owed it to him.
Thinking quickly, she hurried back to her dresser and dug around in the drawers, grinning when she found what she wanted: a small catapult that had belonged to her older brothers. As children, they had shown her how to use it, and she had enjoyed shooting pebbles into the lake. Now, however, she was going to use it again after all these years – but not for shooting pebbles into a lake. She grabbed one of the round clay balls she kept as ammunition and put it into the catapult's sling, and then took careful aim. Years of playing with the catapult as a girl meant her aim was straight and true, and she fired it. The projectile flew through the air, and Jane couldn't help giggling as it hit Duncan on his rear. He yelped and jumped up in surprise, looking as if he was about to take off in flight. He looked up, however, and saw Jane waving a candle in her window.
“Duncan!” she hissed, trying to get her voice as audible as possible without attracting attention. “Duncan, come here! I've got food!”
He looked around, making sure that nobody was watching, and he hurried across the moonlit landscape to the garden outside Jane's room.
Her heart began to pound heavily in her chest as she saw him clearly in the light of the full moon. He was just as handsome as she remembered him being, perhaps even more so in this light.
“It's you!” he said softly. “The girl from the f
orest!”
“Yes,” she replied. “My name is Jane. Jane MacGladdery. I never got the chance to introduce myself properly – or thank you – that evening.”
Duncan smiled.
“There was no need to thank me then, and there's no need to thank me now. I was just doing what any honorable man would have done.”
“Listen,” she said. “I can see that you're hungry. I've got some hot soup and bread downstairs. My parents will be going to sleep in an hour's time. Come back then, and I'll give it to you.”
“Jane, that's not necessary, I'm-”
“Hush!” she said. “I saw you digging for turnips in the neighbor's garden. “I know you're hungry, so don't try to deceive me for the sake of your foolish pride. You're hungry, and I owe you a favor – many favors, in fact – so don't waste your energy arguing with me, just meet me at the back door of this house in an hour. Okay?”
“Alright. I'll see you in an hour.”
With that he turned on his heels and hurried back into the shadows of the woods. Jane, meanwhile, smiled to herself, her heart still aflutter with the delight of seeing him – and the thought of being able to see him again. Perhaps life would not be so dull after all.
CHAPTER 3
Jane hurried through the house, stepping on tiptoes to keep as quiet as possible. She stoked the fire in the hearth and heated up all of the leftover soup in a big bowl, and tore off a big hunk of bread to go with it. Her limbs were tingling with excitement, and her heart was aflutter; she couldn't believe that she was cooking dinner for the man who had been on her mind continually for the last month.
Soon the soup was piping hot and ready to go. She wrapped a towel around the hot bowl and hurried through the house, still trying to keep as quiet as possible, and opened the back door. She looked out into the silver-lit countryside, where everything glowed with a blue sheen from the light of the full moon above. Her heart sank; Duncan wasn't there. She stood staring at the darkness of the forest for a while, wondering if and when he would emerge. The soup was starting to get cold in the bowl, and with every minute that passed, it felt as if something inside her had started dying.