Page 34 of First Light

She was walking through a fairy tale but not like any she could have imagined. Nothing like the stories she’d been told. This was gritty and familiar, but walking through it instead of reading in the safe pages of a book meant that Carys was becoming overwhelmed, and it wasn’t only because of the emotional turmoil of seeing Lachlan again.

She needed to get back to Duncan’s cottage. Even if she had to find her way back to the fae gate by herself, she needed to get away.

Beyond the houses sloped a huge meadow that looked almost like an athletic field. The town commons maybe? She saw some animals grazing and a group of children flying kites. There was a small lake at the bottom of the hill, and birds flew low over the water.

Past the town the hills rose up, covered with trees. One side seemed much darker than the other, so she decided to head that way.

The Borderlands, Duncan had called it.

She needed to find Duncan’s cottage, get her stuff, and get back tothe Borderlands. From there, the giant creepy fairy forest that stole tiny human souls should probably be easy to find.

Carys started walking again, down the main road and past the shops, the houses, and all the morning traffic, barely looking up until the crowds thinned and the road grew narrow.

When she reached a fork in the road, she finally looked around and saw that the houses were scattered, the town was far behind her, and she had no idea where she was.

Dammit.

She swallowed hard and debated what she should do. Duncan’s cottage. If she could find that, she’d have a start. Maybe she could wait a little bit. He’d probably come back, right? If Duncan came back, maybe he could take her back to Scotland.

She hated both Duncan and Lachlan, but that seemed like the best option.

The trees and greenery around the road where the forks branched off looked like the area around Duncan’s house. She had no idea how long she’d been walking, but maybe someone would recognize his name.

“Sir?” She pulled her hair forward to hide her face as much as possible and flagged down an old man pushing a cart up the hill toward the castle. “Do you… speak English?”

He held his fingers together. “Little.”

The old man was dressed in clothes much like her own, woolen trousers and a long tunic belted around the waist. At his neck, she saw a metal chain of some kind that winked brightly beneath all the brown and tan clothing.

She cocked her head, and the man saw her looking.

He grinned and pulled the necklace from his tunic. It was a charm she’d seen a thousand times at a hundred tourist shops on the California coast, a pair of crossed surfboards with bright orange and yellow enamel, the wordCaliforniaspelled out in swirling green letters.

“California.”She smiled.

“Brightlands,” the man said carefully. “From Brightlands.”

She smiled. That charm had traveled as far as she had, and she suddenly felt a little more at home. “Duncan Murray?”

“Laird Duncan?” He nodded dramatically and pointed to the castle. “Castle.”

She shook her head. “House? Uh… cottage?”

“Ah.” He walked toward the left fork of the road and pointed in that direction. “House.”

“That way?” She pointed at the left fork.

“Yes.” He pointed, then made a gesture that looked like his hands were growing into branches. “Craobh.”

Carys asked, “A tree?”

“Yes.” The man nodded. “Tree. Craobh-dharaich.” He made the gesture for the tree again, then moved his hand in a hard right. “Ri taobh na coille.”

“Turn right by the tree.” Carys nodded. “Duncan’s house?”

“Yes.” He nodded again. “Duncan Murray.”

“Th—” She quickly caught herself. The old man was human. Probably. Better safe than sorry though. “I appreciate it.”

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