By Clorinda
Rated: PG
Category: General/Angst
Summary: Duncan tries to go on like nothing ever happened to shatter his heart. One-shot. Set after "Beyond the Boundary" by A. C. Stewart.
I'd lived my days without Alexandra Forbes, because that was who she had turned into. It was the hardest part of my life, letting go of her, having her so close to my heart and having to release my hold. She gave me Toshon before she went away. "Keep her," she says, like the mistress of Corran House. "Fatten her, and sell her if you like."
But I'm doing no such thing. Never forgetting my last reminder of Master Donul, the "puir wee lassie," who used make me promise that I'd let her help fold the sheep, because even without her saying so, I could tell it was the only thing that would help her survive through school. Survive the accusations.
Something so simple as bringing the sheep home, while Pa's dog barked and chased at their heels.
I go with Floss to fold the sheep everyday, but I never see Master Donul running ahead of me anymore. She stopped coming with me a long time go, stopped going to the Church graveyard. I think Pa's getting lonely, no bright-eyed eager lassie pouring her heart out to him.
I see Morag sometimes. Poor woman, she has to face more than she ever did, now that Mrs. MacFayden's living at the village. I met her once in the hills where she often comes, a sunken old ship with torn sails. She smiled at me, and said, "The child's gone, hasn't she?"
Admitting it makes it hurt even more. I never saw her at the valley after that again.
Sometimes, when I have nothing to do, I go and visit Master Donul's cottage like I said I would. I find the key, and unlock the door, and wonder if I should relock it, and throw away the key into the burn.
For Miss Donul alone, I know I never would.
That lassie's stubborn. She loves that dirty fugitive who comes from England, and she's never giving up hope. I'm stubborn too; I'm never giving up what I feel for her, my "puir wee lassie."
I remember the summers we used to spend together, as I lie awake on my back at night. And I remember the summers that Will and that city-slicker stole from me. Figures that I can't sleep. Then I wander through the hills like a restless ghost.
The ghost of happy days gone. Now, I grow aged even if I'm just twenty-eight. I feel like an old man. One who's waiting for his girl to come home. Because the hills are where she belongs, and the valleys cry for her at night.
—- End -—