It was looking bad. He was pinned down by those dastardly Redcoats. He knew that even though it took time for one to reload, one of the others would be ready. He was outmanoeuvred, out-gunned and out of options. He knew it wouldn't be long before the Redcoats were on him.
He gripped his knife tighter. Well, he may be pinned down but he wasn't going to go out with a fight. He was a Scotsman after all, a member of the McLaren Clan on top of that.
"Creag an tuire!" he cried, leaping from behind shelter and sprinting towards his enemies... only to find them lying on the ground, seemingly clobbered.
A skinny man in a brown suit stood behind them, holding a truncheon. He looked slightly guilty about it, but smiled when he saw Jamie. Before Jamie could react the man was already off, running over a small hill. Jamie made to follow him, but stop when he heard the familiar wheezing sound. Old, long forgotten memories started to stir in his mind.
He shook his head to clear out the thoughts. He had other things to worry about. Though he couldn't help but wonder just who that man was.