When she had gone again I worked on the cleaning and the binding of the wound. I washed his whole upper chest area, trying to focus through my sleepy haze. When he bathed later, he wouldn't have to remove the dressing, or be overly careful of it. When I walked around to his back, I heard my breath intake involuntarily. I froze for a moment. His back was a scattered and lumpy patchwork of scars. It reminded me of an old chopping board I'd used in my dorm. Criss-crossed scoring, with some deep gouges, and odd lumping occasionally.

"It's alright lass. Ask yer questions." He said simply, craning his neck around to look at me. My face, sad, but neutral, worked tiredly, scrubbing away the dirt coated in these scars as well.

"I'm not doing your hair, so you'd best be careful to not get the bandage too wet when you wash it." Is all I responded with. There was certainly a tale to go along with those scars, but as I was fighting the blackness ebbing at my vision, it would have to wait. "Are you going to be able to manage one handed?"

"Aye. Dinna fash."

"Don't worry." I translated to myself. "What exactly does Sassenach mean?" I asked, as I worked, focusing on my task, rather than my canvas.

"English person. At worst 'outlander'. Seemed appropriate for Murtagh to name ye that, as we haven't any idea of where ye're from." Jamie smiled.

"I was born in Oxford." I replied, simply. "Raised a little bit of everywhere. My Uncle Lambert was an archaeologist, and took me everywhere his work took him. When I was 18 I was married. I went to school, and did charity work around the world, and he went to join the army. Two years ago I got a letter from his commanding officer, that announced me as a widow. A week and a half ago I went on a trip with some friends, and we were -" I redirected 'taking pictures' to something more time appropriate "- exploring the standing stone circle. My life had been relatively normal until that point. Needless to say, I was scared shitless when I ran out of Craigh na Dun, into you and Murtagh, and into my late husband's angry likeness on horseback."

"I didna see yer friends there Sassenach. We cleared the area before hiding in the stone circle. You weren't there either. Until I summoned you." His eyes were piercing with truth.

"You keep saying that. What do you mean summoned me?" I asked, coming around to face him, so that he wouldn't have to turn. I began rinsing out my cloth.

"Murtagh knew I could hardly move with my shoulder out. He hid the horses and we fled up that hill on foot. We figured that perhaps hiding in the stones would ward off the soldiers. They aren't quite as superstitious as we are, but they don't test it, ye ken. Was working too, until we heard Randall's horse clambering up that hill. Murtagh had handed me a piece of silver.

"Make a wish lad." He said, "T'l be the last ye e'r do."

"So I did. I wished for a way out, and for one last look at a bonny lass afore I passed. I tossed the silver through the crack of the center stone."

"And out I tumbled." I finished for him, as he nodded.

"All silver eyed, sparkling in the moonlight with yer bangles and dress. Even yer skin. It's like ye'd grew from the silver I threw in." His eyes had a faraway look as he spoke, but he also stared at me. "The magic worked. Ye flew out there, made a sound I'd never care to guess at or repeat, and shooed his horse away, draggin' him, an experienced rider, with it."

We sat in silence for a moment as I finished his bandage. It would hold, and probably not get infected, but the rest was up to him. I wearily strapped his arm to his side with the belt, and sat down on the stool by the hearth.

"Is yer magic dulled by water?" he asked suddenly. "Every time ye get wet, ye end up looking more human."

"I am human." I insisted with a yawn. "The water just washed away the extravagance." I ran my hand through my hair line again. "Look, it's a shimmering powder. Nothing more. I'm not made of silver. I need a bath, and then I'll be back to good old Claire Beauchamp."

"Human?" he said, disbelievingly.

"Human." I reaffirmed. "British. Normal. I hate being tired, I get hungover when drunk, I bleed once a month, and it's red. Human."

Jamie's ears turned red at the last bit, but I was too tired to really care, or be tactful at this point. A small knock at the door interrupted whatever he was going to say, and a maid entered with two bowls of broth, and left again. Jamie and I ate greedily.

"I'm surprised ye aren't asking questions."

"I'm too tired to." I responded, closing my eyes, and setting the empty bowl on my lap. "But can you owe me some answers for when I'm up to it?"

"Aye." he said, with a chuckle. He sat quietly, still eating soup. I had abandoned my bowl, nestling it in my lap. I sat back on the stool, leaning again against the warm stone, and promptly fell asleep.

When I woke, I was on the floor by the fire, bowl gone, wrapped up in a large quilt. Jamie was nowhere to be seen. Mrs Fitzgibbons was though. Her screeched 'come on then, up ye get lass' was what shocked me awake so hard I nearly rolled into the fire.

"Ye must bathe, and dress properly, ye've got Himself to see."

It was an excruciatingly cold process, although the lavender scented soaps we used helped to wash away the last of the shimmering powder on my face and arms. Mrs Fitz, as I was now allowed to call her, helped brush my mass of curling hair, and laid out new clothes for me. She touched my costume with some reverence.

"Verra fine work this is, Claire. I've not seen the like of the fabric, and the stitching. The gown to go over this would be equally fine, no?" She asked, fingering it gently. I kept silent, except to offer it to her.

"Would you like to keep it? Perhaps the fabric could be useful for something." I offered. She recoiled instantly.

"Oh no, dear. Not for the likes of me, that sorta shift. Pleasure to see the work though." She reaffirmed. Mrs Fitz gave me a small chest to call my own, in which I tucked my now dry sneakers, the now clean - thanks to her efforts - breeches and shirt, and most of my jewelry. It was with a heavy heart that I realised that along this journey somewhere I had lost the stone in my necklace, even though I had managed to save the rings, anklets and arm bangles. I left the leaf ring on, and picked a simple arm bangle, stowing the rest in the chest. Mrs Fitz dressed me in a fine green and yellow gown, complete with petticoats, overskirts, bodice, stockings, and slippers. Finally I was presented in front of a mirror. I blinked, looking at my unfamiliar reflection. I looked as strange now, as I had donning the White witch costume.

"There. Thought the yellow would suit ye. Brings out more o' the gold in your eyes." She looked out the window, down at the courtyard. "Ye've time for a wee bite, and then we'll hurry you off to Collum."

I ate the parritch, and bannocks that Mrs Fitz provided, as something to do while I worried. What exactly was I supposed to say to the Laird of this keep? A short knock at the door, and Jamie slid in. Mrs Fitz raised her eyebrows to shoo him off.

"I have a healing question Mrs Fitz!" He held his one good arm up, in abeyance of her scolding. When she didn't budge, he prompted her again. "A personal one, ye ken? I'll not be two minutes."

"Two minutes lad. She's late for the MacKenzie." She patted my shoulder. "I'll be right outside."

When the door closed he hurried over, and whispered quickly.

"Murtagh and I've been talking. Ye should keep to the story that ye were travelling with friends when ye were attacked - say by Highwaymen. Ye got separated, and ran into us. Keep mostly to the truth, but for God's sake don't tell him ye're a faerie."

"I'm not a faer-"

"Come, Claire. Keep yer head and yer wits. They'll be thinking you an English spy." His face held urgency, and I finally understood why Dougal had brought me along, despite being so suspicious of me.

"I'm not an Engl-"

"We'll go over that later. Be honest - he can spot a lie, Colum can."

"Be honest, but lie?" I asked.

"Omit." Jamie amended. "The men of our party are making up enough rumours about yer silver eyes and skin. We don't need fuel to that fire." He steered me towards the door. "I'll meet ye soon, lass. Murtagh and I will keep an eye on ye. You need not be scairt of me, or him, nor anyone here, while we're with ye."

And he was gone.

Within moments Mrs Fitz busied me upstairs, at a pace that left me confused as to my whereabouts. This castle was full of twists and turns, and she knew them all. I did not have the knack for direction however that she seemed to. She left me outside a door, telling me to come find her in the kitchens later. I felt like I was writing an exam that I had not studied for, and was hoping would be multiple choice. I knocked, and got no response. I entered.

Collum Mackenzie had chosen to receive me in a beautiful room, in which he was - at first - not present. It was luxuriously crowded with comfortable furniture, fine ornamentation, and even an enormous metal cage, fit the curve of the wall from floor to ceiling, filled with dozens of tiny birds. I quickly ran to his desk, scoured his papers, finding a letter dated to 1743. My hands shook as I replaced it, and then I walked over to the bird cage, focusing on the inhabitants while my brain calmed down. The tiny birds flitted about eagerly as I watched. 1743.

"Busy wee things are they no?" I jumped slightly at the intrusion, but his voice was actually quite soft and warm.

Colum shared the same features as his brother, the kingly air of power, but his beautifully proportioned torso rested atop two shriveled, bowed and stumpy legs. He kept his eyes on the birds at first, allowing me time to arrange my features - something he must be used to by now.

"I welcome ye, mistress. My name is Colum Campbell MacKenzie, laird of this castle."

"Claire Beauchamp." I responded. "Widow, and healer in training, I suppose you could say."

He searched my face, and stared deeply into my eyes as he spoke next.

"I have heard some truly conflicting tales of your arrival here."

I took a breath, frowning slightly. I wondered just exactly what people had been saying. I thoroughly doubted somehow that Murtagh and Jamie would spil their guts, if they were creating a cover story for me, but how much had the other men seen and heard? How supernatural had I looked when I first stumbled into that cottage?

"I'm sorry to have caused trouble. It was not my intention." That was honesty.

"As far as I have heard, you have tended a member of my brother's party while he was in great physical distress, and managed to thwart an ambush. Either of those actions would earn you a little leeway for causing some minor confusion." Colum grinned at me. I returned the grin. "Of course I have also been made aware of your silver enchantress eyes, and shimmering skin, a spirit in the night, preying upon my men."

"An exaggeration, undoubtedly." I stared at him with my clearly brown eyes.

"Perhaps." Colum smiled. "I'd like to take the measure of you myself."

I had nothing in response to that, except a smile.

"Please, take a seat, and tell me exactly how you came to find yourself at my doorstep."

So I did. I took Jamie's advice and stayed honest as I could, expressing my fear and confusion about being separated from the party I was travelling with, and my gratitude for the protection that Colum's men had provided me since I had run into them, but also my general displeasure at being essentially kidnapped to here, and then again my gratitude for the hospitality and generosity, offering the limited silver I had as payment, which Colum immediately declined.

"You are my guest at Leoch. And until such a time as you are not, you will want for nothing here, and make no payments for it, except perhaps in assistance. As a healer, even one in training as you said, there may be some that come to you for help."

"I'll do what I can." I promised. "And I'll be out of your way as soon as I can be."

"We have a Gathering coming to Leoch verra soon, it would please me greatly were you to stay until then. After that point, I shall be able to dedicate some time to helping you find your traveling companions, and restoring yourself to them. Feel free to write letters of inquiry as you may need before that point."

I didn't see that I had much choice except to stay at Colum's pleasure. Women could hardly run around the Scottish Highlands unaccompanied without the potential for rape, murder and kidnap, not to mention that I had no horse or supplies, and no sense of where Inverness and Craigh na Dun were, or what I could possibly do when I got there to get back to Anna and Joe. Would time have passed for them too? Would I stray even further into the past? A small part of me kept hoping that I might awaken from this whole thing, and be able to laugh with Joe about how imaginative I'd gotten, but with each passing moment that hope diminished. There were too many details here that I could not possibly be imaginative enough to concoct myself. I stared, dazed and confused out of the window for a moment, before realising that Colum had spoken to me again.

"I'm sorry, pardon? I'm still wearied from my journey here, and slightly less focused than usual." I apologized.

"Think naught of it. I asked that you join us, as honored guest, at our table tonight for dinner."

"As long as it isn't any trouble..." I said, nodding my head.

"Until then, Mistress Beauchamp." He stood, to look out of the window himself, and I headed towards the door.

"One last thing, sir, I'm afraid I've gotten quite turned around, and lost all track of time and date." I asked, he smiled in return.

"It is the fourth of May."

I nodded my thanks and escaped the room. No one was there waiting for me.

The fourth of May, 1743. Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ.

I wandered the dark stone corridors alone, doing my best to retreat back to the makeshift room I had been given to use for the meantime. The floor was uneven and I wobbled about in my unfamiliar shoes. I took them off, tying them carefully under my skirts, with one of my petticoats and the decorative ribbon that Mrs Fitz had placed around my neck. My stocking-clad feet were more silent, and certainly colder, but more sturdy, as I walked my way through the corridors. I knew there was a staircase somewhere nearby that led me, at least, downwards. It wasn't until I found a door to the roof of a section of the castle that I realised I was truly and thoroughly lost. Thankfully, there was a sentry on duty.

"Excuse me? Sorry, I'm quite lost." The wet stone against my feet was cold. The sentry looked me up and down with confusion, before regaining his composure.

"Where you headed lass?"

"To the kitchens?" I asked, more than answered. That seemed the most likely place to find Mrs. Fitz. "Well, to Mrs. Fitz specifically."

I was given a general set of directions that would lead me downwards, and I followed them to the best of my ability. I came out at the side of a large hall. Somewhere along here had to be the kitchen. Tables were set up, ready to receive food. I followed a maid, carrying a water pitcher, and finally came into the kitchen.

"Mistress Beauchamp!" Mrs. Fitz cried. "Wonderful to see ye. Are ye staying with us then?"

"Only if you call me Claire." I retorted, smiling. She beamed back. "Please, can you give me something to do? Else I'll go to sleep again, and won't sleep a wink tonight."

And that was all the encouraging she needed. With a whirl of activity, my sleeves were rolled back, and an apron pinned to me. Mrs Fitz had me chopping, preparing, washing, boiling, and even scrubbing. I worked up my appetite throughout the day, trying to be as helpful as I could. She seemed unwilling to have me do any of the dirtier jobs though, at least today. I would earn her trust soon enough. Perhaps I needed to get out the shirt and breeches to be allowed to do mundane things such as bury food wastes in the garden.

I was hardly in the kitchen for a few hours before I realised that I had a shadow.