In the back of my mind, I knew I should've noticed I couldn't hear the buzzing that usually came from the stones. I also should've noticed that I hadn't felt the pull towards them I'd felt the other two times I'd been near Craigh na Dun.
However, with the impending war blasting nearby, the void from my separation from Jamie and the sickness resulting from malnourishment and early stages of pregnancy combined, all the signals I would've normally be well aware of simply didn't register into my conscious mind.
I walked to a tree right outside the circle of stones and leaned against it, sliding down until I was sitting on the heather.
I took deep breaths, trying to collect myself enough to figure out my next steps.
On the back of my mind I was actually grateful I hadn't been able to go through the stones. The thought of being again into a society I no longer felt a part of and, worst of all, dealing with Frank, whose similarities with his ancestor would surely be yet another difficulty in settling in, were even more reasons I was glad to stay in the century I was currently in.
But the upmost reason was the utter emptiness I felt to even consider being in another century without the slight possibility to ever see those who'd became so dear to me.
I pondered on the possibilities that now laid in front of me.
Despite the massive number of Redcoats at large nearby, I had to find a way through, no matter the direction I was to take.
For a moment, I considered going back to camp and waiting there for whatever news would come from the battle in hopes that we would, for a miracle, come victorious.
But almost instantly I dissipated that thought, remembering how impossible it had been to change any part of history we'd tried so far, the war itself being more than proof of it.
I felt a pang go through my heart as I thought about what that would mean my beloved Jamie.
I could go back to the cabin, make camp until the evening, then try to reach Lallybroch. Jamie had taught me how to travel almost undetectably, moving mostly through the night and leaving no signs behind, but with the number of English patrols that would undoubtedly be about, it would certainly be no easy ordeal.
A small part of my brain also suggested trying to reach France and asking for asylum within Jamie's cousin Jared. But with all borders closed and a massive lookout for any Highlander fugitives, I would hardly get anywhere too far.
I quickly figured my safest bet was Lallybroch. Even with the patrols that I knew would follow the aftermath of Culloden, I could hide in the priest's hole, and the thought of raising my child amongst family brought a warmth through my heart.
The decision to wait for the sunset in the cabin then head to Lallybroch was made quickly then.
I stoop up and started going downhill slowly, aware of my surroundings.
When I reached the cabin, it was empty, completely void of any signs of life. Whatever the struggle Jamie might've encountered there, it clearly had ended long ago.
I lightened the old hearth and sat on the floor where Jamie and I had made love for the last time.
Curling into a ball, the tears started flowing almost immediately.
I turned my wrist in front of my face, staring at the J shaped cut still fresh.
A painful ache filled my every bone by the thought that, by now, Jamie more than likely was dead.
I sobbed nonstop until exhaustion sent me into a fitful sleep.
I woke suddenly, an ominous quietness on my dark surroundings.
The battle was certainly finished. From what Frank had told me, the whole thing had lasted less than forty minutes.
I rose slowly, forcing myself to move despite the dizziness I felt again. I could hardly stay in that cabin for long, and I knew the darkness provided at nighttime was in my favor for traveling.
Despite being dark, I avoided the road, preferring to walk in the dense woods and only keeping the road on sight so I wouldn't get lost.
I walked for hours, stopping only to relieve myself and to wash by a stream along the way.
As I poured water over my face, the distant sound of horses made me jump.
I immediately crouched and look at my surroundings, searching for quick cover. The dense trees around me would certainly make it difficult for anyone to spot me, but once I didn't know who was coming or how many people there were, I'd rather stay in the side of caution.
I was fully aware of how dangerous it might be if I ended up captured by English Patrols.
Locating a large boulder that could serve as a safe hiding spot, I moved quickly, almost running the few steps until I found myself pressed against the cold granite.
The horses got closer, and I hoped with every fiber of my being they wouldn't stop by the stream to water the animals.
"Let's stop here so the horses can have some water, brother." A young masculine voice, with a clear English accent, sounded nearby.
"We can't take too long, though." Sounded another voice, also with a distinct English accent. "I promised father I'd get you home safely and I surely will, John."
All of a sudden, interrupting their dialogue, two things happened in quick succession.
A large brown owl who'd apparently been hiding in a nearby crack on the rock flew right above my head, giving me a fright.
With the scare, I unconsciously took a step back, my hand on my chest, stepping loudly on a bunch of dry leaves on the ground.
"What was that?" The first voice asked in a hushed tone.
I tried to move as silently as I could, hiding more deeply into the trees behind me, but I wasn't fast enough.
Before I could make a run for it, a strong hand grabbed my wrist, forcing me into place.
I tried to jerk free, but the hand only held me with more force.
"Wait, I know this woman!" One of the voices exclaimed. "This is the English lady from Carryarrick, Hal."
The two of them exchanged a silent look, then the one I presumed to be "Hal" let go of my wrist.
"Pardon my manners, Milady." He apologized. "You can never be too cautious around Scotland lately. Colonel Harold Grey, at your service, and I believe you're already familiar with my younger brother John."
I looked attentively at the younger of them, and it hit me.
A lifetime ago, that young man had tried to ambush Jamie before the battle of Prestonpans, and in turn had gotten his arm broken by my husband. Despite being in enemy territory, the young man had been spared. Then he'd been forced to spill the location of his fellow soldiers in exchange for Jamie's word that my virtue would remain intact.
What he didn't know was that my virtue had never been at risk. And that the Highlander soldier was actually just pretending to be a threat to my honor.
I had no idea what John Grey might've told his brother about the encounter with Jamie and the Jacobite army. Since they already knew I was English and, by the looks of it, didn't know of my relationship with Jamie, I decided to play along.
"I'm Claire. Claire Beauchamp." I spoke politely.
"I take it that James Fraser kept his word and didn't harm the lady?" John asked.
At the mention of Jamie, I felt a lump in my throat.
"Yes. He kept his word." In more ways than you think, I completed in my mind.
"Well, and what does an English woman such as yourself in the Scottish Highlands after the horrible battle held yesterday?" Harold inquired suspiciously.
The odds of me getting anywhere without being convicted as a traitor for association with the rebels were slim.
So I chose to stick to the truth as much as possible, however omitting Jamie altogether.
He had sacrificed himself for the child I carried in my womb.
And I would do the same, to make sure that child, one that we'd created through so much love, was safe.
"My husband was a soldier. He didn't make it." I spoke the truth, knowing they would assume I was married to an English soldier and not a Scot one. "I didn't really have a home to go after the battle, but I needed to get as far away from Culloden as possible. I planned on getting a horse than proceeding to a city like Edinburgh or Inverness to establish myself as a healer."
"I am terribly sorry for your loss." Harold said with sincerity. "Indeed it isn't safe for an English lady to be around these parts right now."
As Harold spoke, John moved towards the stream apparently to wash himself, and moaned in pain when he crouched on one knee.
"Are you hurt?" I immediately moved to him, my healing instincts kicking in.
"It's just a scratch from a thorn I encountered on the way, nothing to worry about." He dismissed.
"I can take a look at that, if you want."
"So you are a healer of sorts?" Harold asked, raising his brow.
"You could say that."
John sat on a rock and pulled the pant of his leg up to uncover his knee, where an angry gash was visible.
"It doesn't look deep, but if it's not cleaned properly, it can get inflamed." I sat beside him and took a proper look at the wound. "Do you have some alcohol? And a clean cloth?"
Harold moved to his saddlebag and fetched a small flask and a piece of fabric, handing both to me as he walked back to where his brother and I kept waiting.
I opened the flask and poured a generous amount of its contents into the gash, earning a wince from John.
I ripped the fabric into two parts and dipped one of them into the stream, then proceeded to clean around the wound. Then I used the other piece of fabric and tied it around John's leg, protecting the cut from dirt and germs.
"There. All done." I said, satisfied with my work.
John pulled back his trousers, covering the improvised bandage.
"We should get on our way now." Harold moved towards his horse.
"What are we to do about Mrs. Beauchamp, Hal?" John inquired, scratching behind his neck. "It's not like we can just leave her behind unprotected."
"You don't have to worry about..." I intervened quickly, in an attempt to send the men on their way.
"Nonsense." Harold interrupted firmly. "As an English subject, it is indeed our duty to see the lady safely established somewhere else."
"And what are you thinking about, brother?" John looked in his brother's direction.
I silently prayed they would just leave and be on their way so I could resume my journey to Lallybroch.
"We'll bring Mrs. Beauchamp with us." Harold stated in a decided tone. "With her skills in healing, she may very well be useful."
"I appreciate your concern, but you absolutely have no need to drag me along." I quickly intervened. "I'd really like to settle somewhere in Scotland, maybe Edinburgh, and work as a healer..."
"Madam, if you indeed are who you claim to be," Harold interrupted once more, eying me intently, his eyes saying more than his words ever could. "I strongly recommend you to come with us. It will only raise suspicion if an English woman, alone, is found traveling the Highlands without clear destination."
Speechless, I merely nodded.
I've always known I was a terrible liar. Jamie used to say I had a glass-face.
But I so had hoped these men would've just bought my story and left me alone.
However, Harold's words clearly showed that, although he maybe didn't know the whole truth that I was, in fact, the English wife of Red Jamie, he knew what I had told them wasn't the full story.
"And where, exactly, are you taking me to?" I asked defiantly, crossing my arms against my chest.
"Some families friends have a property in England, and it's not really out of our way. It's called Helwater."