Highland Burn by Victoria Zak Page A

would be ruled by Scottish kings and become Guardians of Scotland. When called upon, they were to fight for the greater good. When one Kine died another would take its place, chosen by the dragon elders. Rory had a point; surrendering was not surviving.
    With no more freedom to sustain, a species will either die or become accustomed to their new surroundings. Well, being immortal left you with only one option, adapt. As time would tell, some Dragonkine had a hard time with this. Most warriors’ dragons were bloodthirsty with revenge, so being on the battlefield killing humans sufficed their carnal need, good or bad. Morals didn't count as long as there was blood shed. Being endless came with another burden for some; falling in love with a human woman. If a woman could overcome the idea that she loved a dragon, she would become immortal as long as her mate was alive. Because most women rejected a Kine’s dragon side, most warriors protected their hearts and vowed to never fall in love.
    As James thought further about the history of the ancients, the downfall of their kingdom, he knew what the feud between the kings was about; a woman. “King MacAlpin’s son fell in love with King Drest’s daughter. If they were to have married the next male heir would have become the Dragonkine king and king of Scotland. One king to rule both realms.”
    “Nay my friend, ye have it all wrong.” Rory stalked over to James to make his point clear. “It was about King MacAlpin's greed. He wanted to rule Dragonkine and humans. We became a threat. MacAlpin killed our people in order to be king of both realms.” Rory seethed with hatred.
    “’Tis enough, Rory,” James warned. He could feel the tension rising and nothing good ever came from sparring dragons.
    “Nay, think about it. There are seven of our Kine left, for three of the seven we have no clue where they are. James, ‘tis not natural for Dragonkine to live in a human world. We need our women to calm our dragons. If we had our own king ye would no have had to marry her.” Rory pointed in Abigale’s direction.
    James could feel his anger as it started to rage inside, for he knew Rory had a point. But the past was the past. The king of Scotland held his loyalty. “Abigale is of no concern to ye,” James bit back.
    Conall stood, prepared to break up a nasty fight. “Indeed it is the past.” He peered sternly at Rory.
    Both James and Rory stood eye to eye, nostrils flared as they waited for someone to make a move.
    “Enough.” Magnus’s deep demanding voice rang out. “’Twas long ago. We have mended those old wounds and our king is the king of Scotland.”
    “But old wounds have left deep scars, Magnus, ye cannae deny it,” Rory stated as he held James’s stare.
    Magnus stretched as he stood, breaking up the standoff between the warriors. “Lads I’ll take first watch.” He walked toward his pallet; indeed old wounds left deep scars.
    ~~~~~
    Abigale tossed and turned, eventually awaking to a throbbing pain throughout her backside; her skin burned and muscles ached. The few sips of whiskey had helped some, but no matter which way she turned, she could not ease the pain. As she lay on her side she remembered seeing a clump of low-growing purple flowers, self-heal. She had just read about its ability to help heal wounds and soothe bruises. She needed to find that plant.
    Rhythmic, thunderous snoring belted through the night, as four massive Highlanders with their mouths open and bodies limp surrounded the campsite. Their boisterous snores could have wakened the dead. Perfect timing to search for that plant, she thought. No one would know she was gone. Abigale sat up and stretched her stiff legs before she made an effort to stand.
    Thankful she had feeling back in her legs, she walked gingerly toward the woodland’s edge away from camp. Not remembering exactly where she had seen the plant last, she went deeper. The forest came alive as the fullness of the moon shined