Page 2 of The Highlander's Fake Wife
Whatever pallid beams managed to slip through its dense foliage were of little use; nothing more than mere slivers to alert Oliviathat the ground, in fact, was still overgrown. More than once, her foot had caught against uneven ground, and the temptation to kick her slippers into the brush grew with each stub of her toe.
“Aw, ye gowkin’ eejit, Olivia!” She slowed her pace, propping her body against a sturdy oak as she pulled the shoes free. They were of simple make, holes torn through the sides from an endless night of running. In fairness, they hadn’t been made to traverse across the wilds–in fairness, Olivia hadn’t exactly planned to flee into the night. There had only been so much time when she’d entered through the castle’s window, and she’d barely had enough to find her mother and grab them a pair of arisaids for travel.
Her own hung heavily against her shoulders, soaked with sweat that attracted the cool, nighttime air. For a moment, she considered dropping the shawl where she stood; it was only slowing her down, at this point, and if the men from MacCulloh stumbled across it, maybe they’d assume she’d met her fate out in this wooded hell.
Her thumb brushed across the somewhat clumsy stitching, remembering needle-pricked fingers and a toothy smile as her younger self held the freshly-sewn piece up for her mother to see. Shaking her head, Olivia draped the arisaid around her head, utilizing it as a hooded cloak before setting off into a jog once more.
A brief jog. One that came to an unceremonious end as her foot caught against the most despicable of all tree roots. Sheimmediately lurched forward, crashing down the side of a ravine in a disastrous display.
Her arms tucked tightly against her head as stones and upturned ground smacked against her body, finally ending with a dullsplashand the unpleasant sensation of true, bitter cold. Flailing, Olivia managed to smash her hands through the water’s surface, her head following soon after as she gasped breathlessly.
“Of all the bloody–!”
It looked to be a tarn she’d tumbled into, the side of the ravine stretching out beneath the moonlight into the steep base of a mountain. Olivia spluttered, body quickly numbing against the water’s icy grip. She forced her arms and legs to move in a clumsy attempt at swimming, catching sight of the shoreline a mere stone’s throw away.
Now more than ever, her arisaid weighed against her, completely water-soaked and growing heavier with each stroke she took. Again, the thought crossed her mind to abandon it, only for her head to jerk underwater.
Limbs flailing, it became increasingly obvious that some part of her had been snagged. The harder she thrashed, the more entangled she grew, the water’s murk leaving her zero chance to find what had grabbed her, where she had been grabbed. A stream of bubbles escaped her tightened jaw, the cold now turning to a dull, aching burn.
Even if she wanted to abandon her arisaid now, it had completely wrapped itself around her body. In some horrifically dark part of her mind, Olivia was glad some spiritual part of her mother would be with her while she drowned.
Drowned…was she really going to allow herself to go like this? Her body relaxed, arms drifting above her head as a few more bubbles escaped. What was she going to do after she surfaced? If she made it to the shoreline at all? She was soaking wet, unable to start even a basic fire to tend to the cold that seeped well into her bones. And then what?
A slow, painful wait for death as she froze.
And even if–God-giving–she managed a fire at all–it would only attract the very men who hunted her. Who had likely taken her mother back to the keep, made an example of her to the others who’d hesitated to rebel against their once-Laird’s family. And if someow–someow–Olivia somehow evaded those very men…who was waiting for her, after all of this? Her lungs pushed out the remainder of air, a stream of bubbles racing to the surface as her hair drifted like dead seaweed. This…really was her only option.
Her lungs pushed out the remainder of air, a stream of bubbles racing to the surface as her hair drifted like dead seaweed. This…really was her only option.
Weakly, Olivia’s arms pulled the arisaid tightly around her, the burning ache of her body slowly fading away alongside her consciousness. It would be alright; her mother was here for her,and soon, her father and brother would greet her with smiling faces and spirited banter.
At least, until something ripped her back through the water’s surface.
2
Arthur wasn’t entirely sure what he’d just borne witness to. It had started as a flicker of movement from the corner of his good eye, pulling the string of his hunting bow as he let out a low, sharp whistle. A low growl answered his command as the forest’s brush shifted beside him.
Soon after, a massive deerhound stalked out from the dim, ashen coat practically pearlescent beneath the moonlight. She stood stiffly at her master’s heel, poised and fixated on the shadow now tumbling down the ravine. It let out a tremendous splash as it hit the water, though what he assumed to be a head quickly broke through the surface.
Arthur squinted, trying to discern the shape as best he could. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d watch a clumsy deer fall over itself, though the size of its head bobbing in the tarn wasn’t quite the right shape. At the very least, he was certain it wasn’t a buck, meaning the one he’d been hunting all night had likely–finally–given him the slip.
“Still, a meal’s a meal,” he muttered, drawing his bowstring back. “Ready yeself, Maesie.”
His hunting companion let out another growl, fur standing stiff along her shoulders as she prepared to sprint on command.
“Of all the bloody–!”
Arthur froze, blinking furiously at the unexpected curse emitting from the tarn. It took a moment to process it as a voice–a woman’s, no less–and he immediately cast his bow aside and began sliding down the slope. His cloak billowed out behind him, callused hands dragging against the dirt to slowly control his descent; he’d be of no use to anyone if he, too, fell into the frigid waters.
Maesie was quick to follow after, finding her footing first and bounding across the bank as Arthur followed closely behind, shrugging off any extra clothing to make himself as light as possible for his impromptu swim. He glanced up just in time to watch the deerhound hit the water, swimming furiously towards the shape as it, too, drew closer to the bank.
There was no mistaking it, now; Arthur watched as a woman’s head bobbed across the surface, her arms occasionally breaking free as she frantically swam to safety. Then, suddenly, she went under without a sound, prompting him to simply kick his boots in whatever direction and sprint for the water. “Maesie, retrieve!”
The deerhound let out a howling reply, immediately diving beneath the water where the woman had vanished. Soon, Arthur himself dove into the tarn, the shock of cold only pushing him forward faster. It was a murky sight as he opened his eyes; he could barely see his own hand in front of his face.
But, eventually, that hand caught hold of something other than empty space, and Arthur yanked against the fabric, bursting once more to the surface with another head in tow. Maesie followed soon after, jaw clamped around the woman’s sleeve as she struggled to hold her upright.
“Aye, lass! Ye with us?” Arthur hadn’t genuinely expected a reply, working quickly to shift her deadweight beneath his body. She refused to budge further, clearly snagged on something far beneath the water’s surface.
