Disclaimer: The below story and plot are my original work. The characters of Duncan MacLeod, Ian and Mary MacLeod, Robert MacLeod, and Debra Campbell are borrowed and soul property and ownership belong to the Davis/Panzer Productions Inc, and their subsidiaries. The story as constituted below is for the pleasure and enjoyment of my readers and not for any profit or monetary gain.
The Wind in the Glen
~*~Chapter 1~*~
The snow was coming down with such intensity Shalain couldn't see the creek ahead. Although her face was securely wrapped in a heavy woolen scarf, her eyes were exposed to the extreme Highland elements. The wind beat furiously against them, and the ice-formed crystals clumped together on her lashes, leaving her virtually blinded.
As she walked she held on to the safety of a tethered rope, and still, she stumbled through the drifts and ruts. Her eyes so clouded she could barely make out the silhouette of the tall Rowan marking her destination. Grasping onto the thick cord in one hand and the bucket in the other she inched her way towards the old tree. If it wasn't for the rope bound taut around its trunk she knew her usual simple journey might otherwise end in disaster.
Even though her own situation was a bit frightening, her plight seemed rather insignificant when she thought of the possible travelers making their way. All those, who without warning were caught up in the blizzard. It wasn't until the dark ravenous clouds rolled in that anyone had an inclination, and by that time it would have been too late. The storm came on so unexpectedly, she prayed none of the villagers had ventured out unprepared. If so, they would surely perish including the many on their way home from the annual gathering.
Her brow cringed as she found herself fretting more about her father who left the week before. He and the Laird had attended the Gathering since she was a small child, and on occasion she would accompany them. The Laird, and his own were like her second family, except for their eldest son Shane, they had loved each other since….well it seemed like always. She couldn't remember a time when she hadn't, as she took on a sad and foreboding look, and returned quickly to her thoughts.
Her father and the Laird were to return on the morrow along with all others who were in attendance at the Gathering. She just hoped they were alright, not making their way through the mountain pass at the onset. Pausing briefly, she tried to remember a time in her twenty-two years when she'd seen such a blizzard. Hopefully they'd thought better of going out in the weather and lay over in a public house along the way, continuing her trek with short clumsy steps.
The Clan Gathering was a grand event including the ceilidh at the end. There were huge bon-fires, much music, dancing, song, and drink, probably way too much drink. But, most importantly they would discuss the sale of the wool and sheep this summer. The wool sale was their primary source of income for she and her father. A fair price would be settled on and proposed by the Laird, who would represent them to the wealthy merchants and buyers from England in the spring. If the sale were high their lives would be comfortable, but if it were low, her father would have to take on extra work. This meant managing the affairs of the croft, and many nights of being alone for Shalain.
Lost in her thoughts; deep blue eyes began to sparkle underneath the frozen lashes, she became entranced as she pondered the previous year when all was so right. Wonderful memories of Shane and the gathering….how they moved to the sound of the flute and pipes, her dark auburn hair flying in the breeze as she twirled in and out from under his arm. The ballads were so enchanting, she felt her heart doing a silent dance.
It was all so surreal as though she could feel the soft touch of his lips to her hair. But then reality hit, that terminal lingering reality and everything went dark and sullen. She would never go again…..she wished so she had died along his side, her love, her life, as the tears came to her frosted eyes and the warmth burnt as they fell on tender cheeks.
The continual pounding from the wind numbed her mind. She had no will to live anymore….to her, it would be so easy to just let go. The life she knew and dreamed of was over. But, she couldn't it would kill her father.
There would be no thoughts of ever loving again, just to remain here, that would be enough. Living now, only one day at a time, she would make no more dreams for herself, if there were no dreams there were no disappointments.
Moving forward her thoughts were so preoccupied she almost missed a rather large irregular heap of snow directly in her path. She stepped aside arms outstretched, still clinging to the rope as the heavy laden boughs above dropped additional moisture on the mound. Ducking aside, Shalain blinked her eyes trying to regain her sight, but barely able to open them. Batting at her face with cloth covered hands, she knocked the icy particles from her lids.
Finally, she could see the stream. Her legs were aching and no longer could she feel her feet, but she needed to keep moving. The water supply in the house was extremely limited; she'd used most of it on the animals earlier in the day long before the unexpected storm began.
Her stubborn streak and independent spirit willed her to continue. After all, a little snow storm shouldn't keep her from such a menial task, as once again she pulled herself together, though thoughts of the love forever lost loomed close in the shadows.
"Och" she yelled out, her ankle twisting under the drift, as the hole at least shin deep gave way beneath. Her hand dropped from the rope and her knees collapsed, as she tried to release the bucket that stuck to her frozen fist.
Both emotionally and physically exhausted she barely had strength to gather herself from her bruised and bloodied limbs, but she managed dragging the empty pale to the edge of the stream. She sat back for a few minutes, leaning against the old Rowan tree. Her hands so cold as she tried to stretch her fingers so stiff and bent to the shape of the handle. Clapping them together and rubbing her frozen legs she attempted to get the circulation going before she continued.
Icy tears stained her face from the frustration. She was usually a very stable lass but today everything just seemed too much. The storm, the worries, and the memories…..what more had she to endure?
Leaning forward she dipped the bucket into the frigid water; and just as she brought it to shore she heard a deep and painful groan….
Shocking her so, she dropped the container to the ground as the cold liquid splashed in several directions. Quickly she rose to her feet and stood motionless behind the protection of the tree. Peering out to the side she slowly stretched her neck around the trunk as her eyes glared over the edge of the scarf into the yard.
Shalain could detect no movement, nothing, as she surveyed the area. Again, she heard the sound more moaning and gasping, as she crept closer towards the noise, slowly with caution still not knowing the source of the painful cries. It could be a hurt or starving animal, knowing if it were injured it would be dangerous.
Grabbing the rope she groped her way along the line on the opposite side. Shalain knew she needed to make it back to the house to retrieve her father's sword before she dared encounter whatever it was. Her heart was pounding; it would be no use trying to combat something she wasn't sure of without a weapon.
She'd not gone two lengths before something grabbed her leg as she felt herself falling head first to the ground. Her scream was hoarse, choked from the cold air and she had nothing to defend herself. Her mind moved quickly as she kicked hard, and jumped to her feet. Whatever it was let out another more severe and grueling moan, jumping back even further she turned sharply to face her foe. Only now as she stepped closer did she notice the fresh red moisture and heard the paining, mournful sound once more. This time a faint cry….
"Help me lass….uhhhhhh…." and his voice faded.
It was a Clansman and he was hurt, she did not recognize the cloth but it did not matter. She took her Arisaid and brushed the snow from his face, his eyes were closed, but she could still feel the faint warmth of his breath coming from his mouth and nose. Knowing the wounds must be bad she tried to locate the damage. It looked to be his shoulder, but she wasn't sure if there weren't more, he was fortunate it was so cold, it had stopped most of the bleeding.
She reached underneath his long dark locks and around his neck trying to raise his head, hoping she could arouse the stranger from his faint. His features were kind to the eye even blood stained as they were, as her slender cold fingers touched his heavy brow with the other hand, smoothing back the black curls from his forehead.
"Och…..Man….you have to wake up I canna lift ye on my own," As she stroked his face there was nothing, no more movement and hardly even a murmur.
She knew she must get him inside and near the fire fast. Sitting close, she cradled him in her arms, keeping off the snow as she tried to think what she could do. He looked to be a warrior, strong and large, too much for her to drag. Her eyes twinkled as she had an idea coming to mind, and she thought out loud….
"It just might work?"
If she only knew of a way to get the fraying knot untied. Rushing to the tree she tripped, and picked herself up again, trying to be brave as she felt the warm blood where the rock had slashed her leg. Just when things seemed their worst the storm let up slightly she could see the knot but to no avail it had been there too long and the fibers had meshed together.
Running back to the man she lifted his blade by the hilt, it was heavy and cumbersome, but she had no other choice. Making haste to the tree she felt a hidden surge of energy as she wheeled the sword back and took aim. The first slice hit hard just the side of the knot and the second made a clean cut and the cord was free.
Shalain heaved the great rope and brought it to his side. Putting his fur cloak tight around him she tucked his arms inside, digging at the snow below the young woman pushed the rope through underneath. Tying it securely around his mid section she followed the line back to the post near the cot. She pulled long and hard, each time she tugged wrapping it about the wooden pole drawing him closer to the door of her home.