Highland Supplanter (Book 2)

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

                Hobbling across the rough wooden floor, she made sure to place the food in the tiny cupboard on one wall. Her father never looked in there anymore. There was no point. She had not had anything to store for over a week and a half. Slowly working her way through anything and everything that was edible.

                Rationing out what she had had, and still ended up running out of food a few days ago. Her stomach had started cramping last night, taking her thoughts from the pain in her foot. She tried to be as silent as possible. But she knew that there was no need for the silent tread. Her father would not work up, even if the apocalypse had started, he would still snore his way through it, until he had slept off his drink stupor.

                Hamish had watched silently, through the gap in the window. He had sympathetic pains along with watching her try her valiant best to battle through it. He had seen warriors in battle fall at the first sign of pain, and yet this waif of a girl had been among the whole clan. And fooled them all. He wanted to barge in there and take over. Make her sit down, make her eat a full meal, make her seek help for the injuries she is obviously suffering from.

                An idea came to him, but he could not be sure she would stay here before he got back. Watching her move once more. He worked out that even if he could not find her here in the time it took to get there and back. He would still manage to catch up with her before she caused herself a bigger injury.

                Trudging back through the snow, with the bitterly cold wind trying to make its way through his fur lined cloak. He thought about how inadequately she had been dressed. Thinking through what he could do in that department. Which was not much, actually. His parents had died over five winters ago of the fever. He still had a few of their things, but his mother had been shorter and quite a bit rounder than Fyfa.

                Cataloguing what he did have, he made a decision. It was over with the subtly. There was no way he was allowing her to turn away his help anymore. She had to admit her stubbornness, but if she carried on this way now she was going to end up dead. And that he would not allow.

                His little cottage had been his mother’s pride and joy. The tiny little patch of flowers she had planted, still lay there under the snow. He made sure it was kept up, to her high standards, every spring and summer. She would never have forgiven him, never would she have let him get away with not keeping up appearances that she was so proud of. His father had always shaken his head and got on with any little job his beloved wife had ordered him to complete. As it was, he had ended up with a tiny cottage, full of laughing memories and everything he could ever need to start a life with someone.