I also wanted to clear up, that this story is only loosely based on the books, meaning that I am slightly changing some facts of the storyline.

/

Scotland, date unknown

Isabelle had her eyes trained on the unknown man coming for her. She knew not what was going to happen to her, as the rider drew near. The young woman only hoped that it would be some sort of reenactment of the battles or something.

She could see that he was dressed in the usual Highland garb, a kilt and his tartan thrown over his shoulder, but even from that far away she knew it was a large man, and no she didn't mean fat, this man was huge as a wall.

He stopped his horse a few feet in front of Isabelle, his pistol drawn and pointing at her. Isabelle squeezed her eyes shut in anticipation and waited for the shot that would finish her off in a mere second.

But it never came, making her squinting at the rider.

He sat atop his large steed and glared down at her. Then he spoke, the words sounding like wolfs growl. "Who are ye, lass, and dinna try to fool me."

Isabelle leaned against the steep hill, feeling ill as the weapon was still trained at her, not even once trembling as he spoke with such volume in his voice that it made her shudder.

"I-I was taking pictures, of Craigh Na Dun. The light was good for the photographs, but I lost my camera." She swallowed as she found the pistol that had been slightly lowered, again pointed at her face. "Please I-my name is Isabelle McGeady, I was just visiting my Aunt and Uncle in Inverness."

"I dinna believe ye, lass. I ne'er heard of this camera ye speak of." he said getting down from his horse and walking over to her. "Tell me, are ye a witch, then I will 'ave mercy on ye."

Isabelle stiffened and sucked in a bout of air, feeling her throat dry up at the mentioning of death finding her. So this was definitely no reenactment.

"I swear I am not a witch. I don't know how I ended up here. There was buzzing and the wind picked up and then I was falling down the hill." she pleaded and could feel the tears threatening to fall from her eyes.

Normally she was not such a weeping damsel in distress, always outspoken and telling people exactly what she thought. But right now was a different story and as far as she was concerned, everybody would be crying if someone was pointing a fire arm at ones face.

The man curiously watched her and lowered his weapon, trying to decide what to do with her. In that moment, as the rider let his guard down, Isabelle took the chance and freed herself.

She kneed him between his legs and made a run for it.

This time she didn't look back and just ran through the woods. The twigs scraped at her arms and face, making her wince at the stinging sensation. But then she could hear the hoofbeats again over the crunching of the leaves.

He was in hot pursuit of her, but couldn't move as agilely as Isabelle, as he had to pull his steed around the trees in the forest.

She looked ahead of her and saw a clearing. The young woman hopped that she would find someone there that could help her.

Once there, Isabelle spotted another man, but this time dressed in a red jacket. She had long since started to believe that she was in another place. Maybe she was in a coma or something and just dreaming everything that had been happening to her.

"Hello!" Isabelle tried to get the attention of the soldier, who now had found the source of the call.

Behind her she could hear the man cursing in Gealic making her look at him, as he called her a deceitful wench.

"Please, you have to help me!" she screamed as she was near the man in red.

Said man readied his Bayonet and aimed to shoot at Isabelle's pursuer, but never had the chance to, as the rider's pistol went off, before the soldier even had the chance to draw a breath.

Isabelle's high pitched scream echoed around the clearing and before she knew it, the young woman was roughly swept onto the horse of the man, that had just killed another in front of her eyes.

He put his hand on her mouth, muffling any sound that she could make while he was riding back through the forest.

"Ye be still now, lassie, or yer next breath will be yer last." he told her and manoeuvred around the tall trees.

Isabelle didn't dare to move even an inch. Right now she thought that the trip she had taken to visit Claire and Frank had been the worst idea she had ever had. It drastically turned from being a pleasant visit at her aunts and uncles house to a dreadful nightmare somewhere she didn't even know where it was.

/

The young woman must have fallen asleep - which had been no wonder after what had happened before, because she was woken up by a shrill whistle that originated from behind her.

She looked around and saw a small hut coming up in front of them. It was surrounded by large pine trees and hidden behind a few bushes.

On a large stone in front of the hut sat another man, grinning as they reached it in mere seconds.

"What 'ave ye got there, Dougal?" the man asked stroking his bearded chin.

"Found 'er in the woods, nearly got me killed, when the wench ran into one of the Red Coats." the man now known as Dougal said and dragged Isabelle's unceremoniously down from the horse. "Murtagh, where is Jamie?"

The other one, Murtagh looked the young woman up and down, before his eyes fixed on the older man. "Jamie is inside, nursing another scratch from his run-in with the Red Coats today."

A hearty laugh echoed around the hut, as Scot dragged Isabelle inside. "I will take care of 'im later. Want to make sure what the lass was doing so near to our hide-out." he told the slightly younger man grinning and moved on to a different room.

Isabelle shuddered at the thought of being interrogated by this brute of man, not knowing what he had in store for her. Together they stepped inside and Dougal moved her to sit on a stool in the middle of the room.

She looked around and saw a large fire place on one side, a window on the other and a young – well no, he was definitely no boy, man. He too was dressed in a cotton shirt and a belted plaid, but other as with Dougal, he wasn't wearing it over his shoulder.

Clearing his throat, the older man in the room drew the attention on the both of them, making the younger turn around. Isabelle nearly gasped at the sight in front of her.

She had already seen that the young Scot had red locks, but then she saw his face, his eyes and was suddenly reminded of her dream.

"What have ye got there, Dougal?" he asked in a low rumble and walked over to inspect Isabelle who sat rigidly on the chair, with the older man's hand heavily on her shoulder.

"Found 'her in the woods. She was near the hut, but ran. Made me kill a Red Coat. I thought she might be a witch. Talked of very confusing things. What do ye think, Jamie?" Dougal asked, looking first at Isabelle and then at the red headed man in front of her.

Now Jamie looked curiously at her, he saw that something wasn't right with the lass sitting there on the chair, being under his scrutiny. "Whatever do ye mean, dear friend?"

The elder shook his head and proceeded to elaborate. "She said, she fell through Craigh Na Dun, that she lost a-a" Dougal looked at Isabelle for help as he didn't remember the word.

"A camera." came her timid answer, before she looked back at her hands which were folded in her lap.

"Ah yes, a camera. And look at the garbs she is wearing."

Jamie did as Dougal told him and noticed her strange attire. He had never seen a woman wear such revealing clothes before, even the prostitutes that he saw in Glasgow or even Inverness were covered by more fabric. The breeches she wore were tight around her legs and the short blouse showed toned arms and slightly bronzed skin.

"I see what ye mean, but ye know the legends that spring from Craigh Na Dun. Maybe it was the Tuatha de Danan, that brought her here." Jamie said and both Isabelle and he could here Dougal snort.

"It's just fairy tales, just old women's idle talk, nothing more. I say we kill 'er. Who's to say she is not a spay for the British?"

As he said that, Isabelle jumped up from the chair, nearly knocking Jamie off balance in her hurry to get away from the men. "I am neither witch nor spy. It is the truth, I stepped through a split stone and then fell down the hill, before this man pointed his weapon at me."

The young Scot looked at her after her outburst and took a step towards her. "May I know you're name?"

She looked at him and felt like a deer in the headlights. "Isabelle McGeady."

At her surname, both men perked up and watched her. "Are you Scottish?"

Isabelle shook her head, making the hairs that had gotten out of her braid fly around her face. "No, I was born in Dublin, so I'm Irish."

"But ye dinna sound it. It's too posh to be Irish." Dougal said advancing on her. "Hang her or even better burn the witch. She is a spy for that blasted Randall."

Isabelle gasped at his words and drew herself closer to the wall, trying to escape both men at once.

Jamie had seen her reaction, knowing fully well that she was afraid. He would have been too, had he been in her shoes.

"No we won't." he said and looked pointedly at Dougal, who left the room in a flurry.

The younger man turned back to Isabelle and laid his hand on her shoulder. "Ye need not fear me, for I shall make sure nothing will happen to ye."