by Fiona Faris
Shortly after his whistle, however, a quick shout rang out behind them. Everyone stopped their horses and turned to look. Behind them, Logan was rushing up to the stables.
“Logan! Good tae see ye, lad,” Alrick shouted back to him. Logan grabbed a black stallion and prepared him quickly for riding.
Sophia was shocked. What was Logan doing here? Why had he decided to join?
Near her, Gilbert smiled. He knew this would be a good opportunity to show off in front of the laird and make a good impression, better than the first impression Sophia had made.
Once Logan was seated on his horse, he pulled up next to Alrick. Alrick whistled, and everyone started riding off towards the border and the farmlands.
The group moved in the same general direction. As they left the proximity of the castle, the long fields stretched out before them. Though the hills were low, they created a long ribbon of green along the horizon. The grass beneath them shimmered with the dew of early morning. The land near the estate was precious. Sophia had worked so hard for so long at home that she rarely had any time to consider the wonders around her.
The horses handled the small hills with ease. The land was a part of their blood, and they knew how to weave through it by nature.
The further from the castle they got, the more the group started to dissolve. One family went to the left with their scouts. Another family went closer to where the river crossed. Each time a family moved away from the others, the group shrunk in size, until finally, Alrick gave Logan a nod.
“Ye want me to go with the McMillons?” he asked. Logan nodded, but said nothing in response. Given how angry he had been, Sophia was surprised that he wanted anything to do with her today. But she hoped he would show her the gentle side again, the part of him she had seen in their nighttime walk.
After Alrick left, the group continued closer towards Sophia’s house. They rode on for only a short while longer. Sophia could hear the babble of the nearby river. As they rode through a patch of trees, Sophia noticed smoke rising. It was faint, but it rose in many spots. All of the fires this far out had only recently stopped burning. The cool, sweetly-scented breeze she had been enjoying was now tainted by the smell of char and smoke.
As they moved through a clearing, Sophia saw the space where her home should have been. However, instead of a home, all she saw was the charred remains of the foundation and smoldering piles of ash. The barn was nearly gone.
But that was not what struck Sophia the most. In front of where her home was, Sophia noticed a small hill of fresh dirt. From it rose a small wooden cross. Sophia let out a deep sob and stopped Moon from riding on. She jumped off and ran towards the fresh grave.
Sophia threw herself to the ground. She beat her fist against the dirt.
“Father. No, Father!” This whole time Sophia knew her father was dead, gone like the ash that drifted away, but seeing his grave here in front of the ashes of her old home hit her in a new and unkind way.
Logan rode his horse over to her. “We told the scouts to bury what people they saw along the way. It seemed best,” he murmured.
Sophia put her hand to her mouth and wept. The tears flowed out of her like a broken dam. She knew this would be a difficult journey, but upon arriving, she had not expected to find her father buried. Logan was right; it was better for them to have buried him, but her heart still dropped at the sight.
Gilbert was unsure of what to do. He decided to ride off towards the outskirts of Sophia’s land. He went off in search of yarrow root, thistle, heather, and other useful herbs to add to their healer’s pantry. Moon walked over to where Sophia sat. She neighed softly and nudged Sophia’s shoulder.
“Oh, Moon,” Sophia wept, “Father is really gone, he’s gone.”
Sophia sat straight up and looked around. It was not only her father that was gone, but the entire life she once had here. All of the memories, all of the harvest, all of the land, was near barren. It was no longer her home; just a ghost of what it once was. Sophia walked over to a patch of wildflowers and plucked a few. She laid them on her father’s grave.
“I am eternally grateful for yer savin’ me, Father,” she whispered the prayer softly to the wind.
Logan decided to give Sophia a moment alone. He trotted to where the farmhouse was. As much as he knew Sophia needed some kind of comfort, he needed to assess the land. His estate was running out of stores of food, and part of why they needed to send scouts was to see if anything could be salvaged.
The farmhouse was reduced to near nothing. The foundation of the home still lay there, but it was badly damaged. The walls were mostly gone, and much of the interior had been burnt as well. There were no beds, no chairs; nothing to hint at any storage. There was no way Sophia would be able to live here for some time. He knew she would understand this, but it would still hurt him to have to tell her.
Beyond the farmhouse stood only charred remains of the barn. Logan could see that it once held stables, but no horses remained, and there were no signs that anything had been near there in some time. Wherever the horses ran to, they had no plan to return. There were some well-crafted tools, and they seemed to have lasted through the flames, but nothing else that would be of use. Next to the barn was where the fields of harvest should have been. The charcoal marks showed the fields were badly destroyed. Where corn once grew, now there was only burnt dirt. There was surely not even a kernel left.
Logan made his way over to the field and dismounted his horse. He picked up the dirt and smelled it. It still had the scent of smoke, but beneath it, the soil looked rich and dense. He knew if they could just till the soil, they would be able to plant the winter wheat quickly. There was no way the other crops would grow back quicker than the winter wheat. Even if they ate mostly grains all winter, it would still be better than having nothing at all.
Logan looked over from where he kneeled to see Sophia gently arranging the flowers she had placed on her father’s grave. So many lives were stolen by those flames. If it was Dillon who did this, and he was positive it was, Logan knew there would be nothing stopping him from pressing forward, trying to push the estate to a breaking point. It was a tragedy that so many lives had to perish for Dillon to make his point. But Logan would stop at nothing to re-empower his people. He would provide for them as best as possible, even if he had to go out nightly and hunt for boars himself.
Sophia looked up from her father’s grave and saw Logan looking over at her. He quickly looked away, embarrassed to be caught watching her. Sophia stood then and shook the dirt from her skirt. She walked over to where he was, and as she walked, he focused all of his attention on the soil in his hands.
She stood behind him. “How are the fields lookin’?” she asked.
He shook his head slowly, unsure of what to say. “I canna say exactly. None of the corn survived, fer certain. What do ye think of the state of the soil?”
Sophia bent down and picked up a handful of dirt. She moved it between her palms, pouring it from one to the other, as if her hands were an hourglass.
“The topsoil is dry an’ burnt tae a crisp, but it seems what is underneath looks healthy.” She pushed aside more dirt.
Logan nodded in agreement. “Aye, I reckon we can plant new winter wheat if we work on tilling it quickly.”
“I think so.” Sophia brushed aside some dirt as well. She stood then and looked around at the fragments of her life that remained. Logan stood and looked with her.
“I dinnae think we can get the house rebuilt as fast as some a’ the others. There’s nae much left here.” Her eyes fell on her surroundings. She looked down at the ground and wiped her face. Sophia felt hollow, as if her heart was stolen straight from her chest and burned alongside the house.
“I ken. It’ll take time,” she said quietly as she walked over toward Moon.
Logan took a few steps toward her and placed his hand gently on her shoulder. “The keep is yer home, ye know. Ye are more than welcome tae stay as long as it takes, or
as long as ye want.”
Sophia looked at his arm as he reached out to steady her. She put her hand on his and looked him in the eyes. They were a furious blue, like the cold winter air freezing over the lake. Before she had a moment to stop herself, she wrapped her arms around Logan. He stumbled back in shock, but quickly embraced her as well. Her face was in his neck, and her warm breath heated a part of him that had long gone cold.
Sophia pulled away. “I vary much appreciate tha’. Tis home for now,” she said.
They both dusted off their hands and let the dirt fall down to the charred ground. The horses were off some paces away from them, munching on what little bit of grass they could find.
“Tis time to look at the house,” Sophia said over the silence. Logan nodded.
The two slowly moved toward the farmhouse. Sophia didn’t know if she would find anything. Logan walked with her in silence, unsure if he should speak or let her mourn as she needed to. They both walked onto the leftover foundation of the home.
Sophia put her palm against the blackened wood. She did not weep aloud, but tears streamed from her eyes. Logan glanced around, trying to find anything they could make use of. The home had been a simple one, with very little of anything to begin with, and after the fires, there was nearly nothing left at all. Though he could see there once had been furniture, though little remained of it now. The building was simple, and because of this, it had burned down quickly, like the barn.
Sophia walked toward her bedroom. Once inside, she knew what she most hoped to find. She started towards her charred bedframe. Beneath the bed, she had a small trunk where she kept a few personal treasures. The trunk remained there, though blackened. She opened it carefully, praying she would find her mother’s most prized keepsake. Inside, the ivory comb lay on a cushion, undamaged. The trunk had blocked the flames.
She pulled it up to her chest and held it there, letting out a sigh of relief. There were other things inside, too: a small mirror and a pin her mother had worn on her wedding day, but the comb was Sophia’s most prized item. It was the comb her mother had used to brush her own hair nightly. The comb she used to brush Sophia’s hair as she told her the tale of the princess who was lost in a river and brought back by the selkies. It was a beautiful story that reminded her of the need to remain kind and try to find herself a home wherever she went.
Holding the comb and thinking of the tale gave Sophia a renewed strength. She closed the trunk and stood, placing the small pin and the mirror in her dress pocket. These would be the only things she would have to remind her of the life she’d once enjoyed with her family.
She left the area that was her bedchamber and stood in the hall, looking around at the home. Logan turned from the area of her father’s bedchamber and emerged holding a blackened claymore. It was a sword her father had used to survive in his one and only battle. He always said that without the spirit of his own father in that blade, he would never have survived. Sophia had forgotten all about it. She rushed toward Logan and pulled the sword into her hands.
“Ye found my father’s claymore. He treasured this dearly.” The base was inlaid with jade, but the fire had clearly done some damage. The stones were dark, and the handle had some small bends in it.
“It has a few marks, but tis nothin’ that canna be fixed.” Logan said, as he leaned in and studied the blade with Sophia. He lifted it from her hands, and she was grateful. It was very heavy. “I promise I’ll have it taken care of,” he said. Sophia nodded and gave him a small smile.
The two emerged from the burnt ruins and made their way outside. “I appreciate ye comin’ out here with me,” Sophia said as she walked towards Moon. Logan nodded.
“Tis my duty,” he replied. “I am happy we found the blade fer ye.” They both stopped and looked at the ash surrounding them. It would take a great deal of work to rebuild this estate, but Sophia was ready. So was Logan.
As the two mounted their horses, Sophia suddenly realized how silent it was. Where was Gilbert?
“Aye, Logan, have ye seen Gilbert?” Logan mounted his horse and looked around.
“Nae. Where did he run off tae?”
The two called out Gilbert’s name and looked around. Surely he hadn’t gone off to find any of the others. He was meant to stay with Sophia. Sophia hoped he had gone off in search of herbs. Why else would he suddenly disappear?
Chapter Twelve
The journey back to the keep felt much longer than the journey out to the farmlands that morning. There was a part of Sophia that longed to stay in that barren land, even if it no longer held her family. At least there she had the memories of them. But Sophia knew she had to look forward to the future and there was no way she was going to do that staying in a burnt down home with no food or heat to provide for herself. Moon moved gently towards the estate, understanding Sophia’s burdens.
Logan had stated that she could live in the castle as long as she needed to, but she didn’t know how long that would last. Could she really stay as an apprentice and learn to be a healer? What would happen when the estate ran out of food? Would they throw her to these far-reaching green hills and forget about her? Surely Logan wouldn’t do that. She had to remind herself that though he was brutish, underneath he had a kindness to him as well.
When they made it back to the keep, Sophia said goodbye to Logan and rushed straight to Fanny’s room.
“Fanny, I was hoping ye were here,” Sophia said as she walked in through the open door.
“There were nae tae many patients today so I have me some time tae rest,” Fanny said from the bed where she sat, mending a tear in her apron. “How was it, dear? Did ye manage alright?”
After Fanny asked her about the journey, Sophia could not keep the tears in. She felt as if all she was doing these days was crying. The loss was just a weight she could not shake, as hard as she tried, and she didn’t know if wanted to shake it.
“Tis a hard thing, tae see the freshly marked grave of ye father and yer home,” Sophia said through soft whimpers. She wiped her face.
“Time heals all wounds, Sophia. Even if they leave scars the size of a bear’s claw.” She pulled Sophia in and held her for a few moments as she wept.
When Sophia’s weeping had subsided, she remembered that she wanted to show Fanny what she found in her old home.
“There was not much left in my home, nothin’ tae return tae. Logan found me father’s claymore.” Fanny nodded and helped wipe away some of Sophia’s lingering tears.
“A claymore? Yer father fought in the battles then, aye? Ye must be proud a’ him.”
Sophia nodded. “He was proud of himself. Twas one of his most prized possessions. Logan said he would repair it.”
Fanny smiled and lifted an eyebrow. “Tis vary kind of Logan tae offer that.”
Sophia shook off the comment and reached into the pockets of her skirt. “I also found these.” She opened her palm and showed Fanny her ivory comb, the mirror, and the hair pin. “They were me mother’s most fond items. Then they became mine. They are the only things I have of hers.”
“They are beautiful items, Sophia.” Fanny held up the ivory comb and inspected it first. It was a remarkable item. The carvings were like waves crashing on the sea. The picks of it were fine and closely together, yet clearly sturdy, as not a single one had been chipped or broken. But the comb was badly smoked. In the home, Sophia had not noticed that it had a sheen of grey over it. She started to wonder if perhaps it was burned beyond repair. Fanny turned over the mirror next, and that too was stained with grey, like it held the captured image of smoke in it.
“I hadnae seen how burned they were in me home. I dinnae know if they can be fixed,” Sophia said. Her bottom lip began trembling at the thought of those items being damaged beyond repair. The last few memories she was able to bring to the keep with her, and now they, too were ruined. The fates clearly had it out for her.
“Now, now, dinnae worry, wee one. We will work at cleanin’ this right up,” Fa
nny said. She stood from the bed and walked over to one of the buckets that still held some herb water from her morning’s patients. She sat on the small trunk that rested next to it.
“Ye really think we can fix these, Fanny?” Sophia rushed over to the bucket and sat on the floor to watch Fanny clean the mirror and the comb.
“We shall try our best, aye?” She started with the mirror first. She dipped the thing entirely in the water and began wiping it off with her apron. At first, Sophia didn’t notice much, but then she saw some grey begin to streak the apron. The mirror, however, still looked gray. Fanny pulled it closer to her face and inspected it. “Hm, hm, what can be done?” She wiped the mirror with her finger in small circles. “Yes! That’s it,” she added in a cheerful tone.
“Tis nae getting better.” Sophia’s mouth turned down, and she sighed. As much as Fanny wanted to try to help Sophia, Sophia wasn’t sure she believed the items were repairable.