Page 51 of Highlander’s Captive

“A child was lost,” she said.

It was in New York, where she had moved to become a vet. Her neighbor’s son had wandered off.

“I couldn’t let him wait alone, desperate, hungry, and cold. I found the boy—by chance more than by knowledge. I had no idea back then how to do any of this. But when I found him—when I saw the tears of relief on his face, when he hugged me, shaking, and wouldn’t let go of me until I brought him to his mother—I knew this was what I wanted to do. What I was destined to do. To never let anyone get lost like that. To assure them that someone was always coming to their rescue.”

Craig stared at her, blinking. “’Tis very noble of ye, Amy. Very kind.”

She shrugged. “I wish more people knew how to track and rescue. But even one person can make a difference. Even if it’s just one life I can save, I think it’s all worth it.”

Craig exhaled sharply. “Are ye sure ye’re a MacDougall?”

She chuckled. “Yeah. Blowing your mind right now, aren’t I?”

“And yer father allowed ye to do this, a woman? Wandering about alone in the mountains, in the woods?”

Amy licked her lips nervously. Right, women in this time were probably not allowed to do much outdoors. “Well, my teacher was with me most of the time.”

Craig narrowed his eyes. “I havna heard of such a thing. This sounds very strange.”

“You don’t believe me?”

“I do, strangely. I see ye’re telling me the truth, but I canna imagine John MacDougall letting his only daughter put herself in danger like that. Or does he nae care for ye?”

Amy looked at the ground. Her father certainly didn’t care for her. “Yes, you got it right, Craig. But we should hurry. Poor Elspeth is waiting.”

She looked at the track and swept above the ground with the stick again to find the next imprint. They continued like that while the tracks were still fairly visible in the mud. Craig made sure the horses followed.

They talked a bit more, about tracking, comparing what Craig knew about tracking animals to what Amy knew. Then they started talking about other stuff—about Craig and his family. How he had gone to England with his father and uncles during the four years that Bruce was allied with Edward I to oppose the restoration of John Balliol as the Scottish king. How, during that time, the Cambels had fought for Edward I, and how Craig’s uncle Neil had received new lands in Cumberland for the service. How England was different from Scotland. Although her mind was on the task of tracking Elspeth, talking to Craig was easy and pleasant, and she wished they could talk like that forever.

An hour or so must have passed, until the terrain became rockier, and the forest became sparser. Up there, the woman’s footprints became confused. She had stepped several times in one place, as though looking around. Then the footsteps changed direction. The woman went off the trail and into the woods.

There were only a few patches of snow there, and Elspeth’s footsteps were now buried in the fallen leaves, rotting grass, and between small stones. It was harder to see them, but Amy knew now what to look for. The woman had gone up the slope, stopped again, rested on a boulder, then gone in yet another direction. It was clear she was confused or lost. It was good that she must be moving slowly, because the signs were getting fresher. Amy also saw broken twigs on the bushes and a couple of tiny woolen threads stuck on the branches.

“I think she’s close,” Amy said. “I feel it in my bones.”

They sped up. Sometimes the signs were barely visible, and in a completely different direction than Amy had anticipated. And then they were in front of a cliff, and there was a cave. Amy and Craig exchanged glances.

“Elspeth!” Amy called, running up the hill towards the cave. “Elspeth!”

“Elspeth!” Craig echoed. He tied the horses to a tree and followed her.

Amy stopped at the mouth of the cave. Her eyes adjusting to the darkness, she saw something gray leaning against the wall a few feet away.

She rushed in.

An old woman sat on the ground, propped against the wall. Her hair was disheveled under her cape, her cloak dirty and torn with leaves and old grass stuck to it. She was pale, and she was shaking. She opened her bloodshot eyes, which were wet from tears.

“Who is Elspeth?” the woman asked.

Craig stopped next to Amy.

“It’s her,” she said. “She doesn’t remember who she is. But it’s her.”

She felt Craig’s eyes on her. “Ye kept yer promise. Ye found her,” he said, and if Amy wasn’t mistaken, his voice rang with admiration.

* * *

Wrapped in plaids and blankets, Elspeth sat in front of Amy on the horse. Amy felt protective of her and insisted the woman would come with her so that Amy would be able to react fast if she noticed any signs she might need medical help. They rode down the hill carefully, letting the horses choose the way. Craig rode before Amy and Elspeth, and Amy kept looking at his broad, powerful frame, at the dark, wavy hair that brushed his shoulders. What was he thinking now? She’d kept her promise not to run away. She’d found the woman.