Hello! First of all, I would like to thank zagara for reviewing. Your support means so much! Second of all, here's the promised Chapter 4!
Disclaimer: I don't own AKT. We've been over this, people. :)
The trogwynd wailed eerily over the cold, barren moors, rattling the skeletal wreath of of mistletoe and ivy that hung crookedly on the warped wood of the smithy door. Kate drew the tartan blanket tightly about her thin shoulders, shivering uncontrollably despite the heat of the forge. There was fear in the dreich night air, blown around by the wind; there were spirits abroad this night. She was sure of it.
Her Da, shaping horseshoes on his iron anvil, was oblivious to the haunting noises, but Kate couldn't block them out. The rattling grew louder and louder as the wind picked up, and her sharp wean's ears could pick up other, wilder sounds: the plaintive howls of the Baisd Bheulach, the tortured cries of the Slaugh, the wailing of the Caoineag. The hellish creatures seemed to surround the lonely smithy, as though they could smell the living souls within and were hungry for their flesh….
Kate whimpered and crouched down, making herself small, burrowing her small body in wool and shadow. If they were coming for anyone, 'twas her. Little, gullible weans were their favorite victims; that's what all the stories said.
"Yer awrite, Katie?" Kate jumped and let out a small scream at the sound of her brother's voice, but Conall immediately knelt and gathered her in his strong arms, resting his wind-chapped lips on her thick dark hair. "Och, A'm sairy; A didnae mean t' frigh'en ye. I's jus' me, hen. Keep th' heid."
Kate threw her arms around Conall's lean form and buried her face into his chest, ashamed of the tears that streamed down her cheeks. "Th- th' Caoineag's screamin'," she whispered, her high voice small with fear. "A'm feart, brither. They're comin' fer me. They been snatchin' bairns all nigh', an' now they're gon' get me!" She broke off with a choked gasp, unable to hold back her hiccuping sobs.
"Now ye haud yer wheesht, Katie," Conall mumbled fiercely. "Dinnae greet. They cannae get an'where near 'ere. Tha's wha' th'wreath's fer, aye? It keeps 'em away.
"But-"
"Dinnae be feart, Katie lass." Conall leaned back slightly, and took Kate's small, tearstained face in his large, scarred hands. "I won' let 'em get ye. Yer safe wi' me 'n' Da, in 'ere. A swear it."
Kate huddled close to her brother, his warmth as reassuring as that of any forge fire. Outside, the trogwynd blew, and the moor creatures moaned and screeched, but Kate felt safe in her brother's arms, and knew, now, that she was being an eejit. They couldn't come in here, not into this protected house. No, Lord.
Wow. A pure like Scots! Sorry; Scottish slang is really fun to use. With that in mind….
Translation time!
Trogwynd: Though not technically a Scottish term, the trogwynd is a strong, howling wind; it means 'strange winds'
Baisd Bheulach: A shape-shifting demon that lived in the Odail Pass on the Isle of Skye and howled at night
Slaugh: Malevolent, extremely dangerous Highland spirits, also called the Unforgiven Dead
Caoineag: A banshee-like clan spirit that wailed at the base of waterfalls when someone was about to die
Da: Father
Wean: Child
Yer awrite: You're alright
Conall: Strong wolf
Och: Oh
A'm sairy: I'm sorry
Didnae: Didn't
Hen: A term of endearment for a female
Keep the heid: Stay calm
Feart: Afraid
Brither: Brother
Bairn: Baby
Haud yer wheesht: Be quiet
Dinnae greet: Do not cry
Cannae: Cannot
Aye: Yes
Eejit: Idiot
A pure like Scots: I really like Scottish
Guid cheerio the nou: Good-bye
I AM NOT SCOTTISH! I don't know how accurate any of this is, and I tried to write in dialect, which is actually really hard. If anyone's confused, don't hesitate to ask for clarification or offer corrections.
For some reason, I always thought Kate might have a brother, who'd show her the ways of the forge at a young age. Hence, Conall was born.
Mistletoe and ivy, along with holly, laurel, and other plants, were common in wreaths of the time, as they were thought to repel evil spirits, which were stronger in winter. Mistletoe is actually a Celtic word that means 'all-heal,' and it was one of the sacred plants of the Druids; they used it to repel spirits and bring good luck.
I'll see you all tomorrow, and after that, I'm out of ideas, so please, send some! Guid cheerio the nou!
