A Scotsman's Promise

Chapter 18

The change in Calen was not subtle. Cara realized that within hours of his apology. When night fell, he retrieved the whistle from a pouch on his belt and began to play, the shiny metal fairly glowing in the firelight. The tune he played was not one she had heard before, and if she was honest, was not exactly pleasant. The notes were too harsh, the rhythm abrupt.

She felt his eyes on her and she was hesitant to look up and meet his gaze. And then, slowly, the music began to change. The notes came smoother, the tone softened, imperceptibly sweet. Goose bumps rose on her skin and her hair prickled when she looked up to see Calen's gaze still resting on her. She met his eyes only for a moment before looking at the ground, butterflies in her stomach.

Only once he stopped playing could she look up again, telling herself that the heat in her cheeks was caused by the warmth of the fire. She kept her eyes off him, focusing instead on the other two men around the stone fire circle. The silence was soft and warm, the crackling flames holding a comforting conversation with the slight rustling night time breeze.

Micara wondered if this was how all of the nights between the coeur de bois had been before she had entered into the equation. Several times she had seen the returning adventurers in the docks of Dryden and had wondered what lured them away from civilization. What special pull the wilderness had on them that would make them abandon their homes and families for months at a time. Now that she had done it, used her own strength to push a canoe into territory she'd never seen before and then settled into the peaceful circle of camaraderie, she felt a hint of understanding. She felt the accomplishment of a full day paddling, and the excitement for what tomorrow would bring, and where they would end up. If this was half what the men felt during  their journeys, she understood how it could fuel their spirits for months on end, and the comforts they would sacrifice to keep it.

As she looked at the men beside her, she wondered what each of them was giving up to be here. She wondered if Will regretted the distance from his family, or if Christian missed his adoptive father on his long trips. She didn't know what Calen left behind when he ventured out, but she wondered who missed him when he was gone.

She admired their courage to go out searching for exactly what they wanted. She envied the fact that they deemed to have found it. 

The quiet atmosphere was bittersweet for Micara. The men seemed content, with their lives and with themselves. A sliver of melancholy pierced her peaceful mood. As much as she was beginning to enjoy her adventure, the excitement did not chase away the feeling of dis-belonging she was plagued with. Returning home was not an option, and her destination in Trenton was as unfamiliar to her as the wilderness they were currently trekking through.

Christian noticed the twist of sadness that entered Micara's features. He had seen the same look when he had asked her about her home earlier that day while they had paddled. He suspected the same subject was on her mind now.

He caught Calen's eye and gestured to Micara. Calen acknowledged his concern with a nod of understanding. Christian stretched, faking a yawn.

"It's been a long day," Calen said, following Christian's lead, "And we've the lake before us tomorrow. It'd be wise to turn in now for an early start in the morning."

When Cara stood, both Christian and Calen jumped to their feet.

"Good evening, Miss Cara," Christian bid her, adopting the way Old Jim had addressed her.

"Pleasant dreams," Calen added softly.

Will looked on from the ground, befuddled. He had given up trying to understand their sudden change in behaviour. He laid down on his bedroll, dropping his fur cap over his eyes. He had had enough confusion for the day.