shall search them out. Ye rest. ’Tis what ye need most now.”
“Aye. Sleep is a good healer, but one of their potions would be good, too.”
Gregor hoped she had gone back to sleep when she grew still again. He also hoped she did not
recall what he had said. If she had the wit to catch him in a lie, it would become difficult to keep her calm.
One of the names she had mentioned was familiar to him, and he frowned. His brother Ewan was
married to a woman who had a sister-by-marriage named Gillyanne. It could be just a coincidence,
yet he did not think the name was that common. If one considered that Alana seemed to be calling
for a healer and that the Gillyanne he knew was a healer, such a coincidence became more of a
possibility. And if it was the same Gillyanne, that made Alana a Murray, he mused, and scowled.
What was a Murray lass doing traveling alone and disguised as a young girl?
That was a question he would not get an answer to soon, he thought as he collected his now-dry
plaid. Settling himself on the mattress next to Alana, he spread the plaid over them and decided to
get some rest. One thing he did know about a fever was that it often got a lot worse before it got
better. There was a good chance he would find little time to sleep in the next few days.
Gregor winced and then cursed as one of Alana’s small fists connected sharply with his jaw. She
was a lot stronger than she looked, he thought, as he struggled to pin her down. He had managed to
get several hours of sleep before the fever madness had struck Alana. Since then he had only been
able to catch an hour or so of rest now and again. After two long days and nights of that, he was
both exhausted and frightened. He did not like to see anyone die, save for a few enemies he had
known, but the thought of Alana dying left him feeling cold and empty in a way he did not
understand. He breathed a hearty sigh of relief when she grew still, only to start cursing when she
then began to weep.
“I must find Keira,” she said, her voice thick and hoarse as she cried.
“Your sister?” he asked as he slid his arm beneath her shoulders, lifted her up a little, and tried to get her to drink a little water.
“Aye, my twin. She needs me, but they wouldnae let me look for her.”
“Ah, and so ye went to hunt her down by yourself.” Gregor sat next to her, kept his arm around her
shoulders, and held her close to his side.
“I can find her. I am certain of it.”
“So, there is another wee lass roaming the country, aye? One just like you?”
“Nay. Keira is beautiful and clever and sweet and has a true healer’s touch. I am just a wee brown
lass.”
Gregor looked down at her in surprise, but her eyes were closed again. “Ye are a bonnie wee lass.”
“Nay, just a wee lass. Keira is the bonnie one. Everyone loved Keira, and I cannae find her.”
“Ye will, lass. Cast off this fever, get weel and strong again, and we shall go ahunting.”
She did not really answer him, only muttered something about lack-witted brothers and smelly
Gowans and fell asleep again. Gregor gently settled her back under the blanket and his plaid. As he
stood up and stretched, he studied her. She was pale except for the scarlet tint of the fever in her
blood, her hair was a dull brown as if her illness had stolen away all hue and shine, and her full lips looked as if they had been burned by the sun. Alana was definitely not looking her best, and yet, he
had no difficulty seeing the beauty of her. He had to wonder who had given her the idea she was
just a “wee brown lass.” He also wondered why he wished to find the one who had convinced her
she was so plain and beat them until they could see more clearly.
Shaking away that thought, Gregor gently tied her down. He needed to leave her alone for a while
as he searched out some food and wood. Although finding such things as a bucket, rope, and a few
wooden plates and tankards had been helpful, he had
“Aye. Sleep is a good healer, but one of their potions would be good, too.”
Gregor hoped she had gone back to sleep when she grew still again. He also hoped she did not
recall what he had said. If she had the wit to catch him in a lie, it would become difficult to keep her calm.
One of the names she had mentioned was familiar to him, and he frowned. His brother Ewan was
married to a woman who had a sister-by-marriage named Gillyanne. It could be just a coincidence,
yet he did not think the name was that common. If one considered that Alana seemed to be calling
for a healer and that the Gillyanne he knew was a healer, such a coincidence became more of a
possibility. And if it was the same Gillyanne, that made Alana a Murray, he mused, and scowled.
What was a Murray lass doing traveling alone and disguised as a young girl?
That was a question he would not get an answer to soon, he thought as he collected his now-dry
plaid. Settling himself on the mattress next to Alana, he spread the plaid over them and decided to
get some rest. One thing he did know about a fever was that it often got a lot worse before it got
better. There was a good chance he would find little time to sleep in the next few days.
Gregor winced and then cursed as one of Alana’s small fists connected sharply with his jaw. She
was a lot stronger than she looked, he thought, as he struggled to pin her down. He had managed to
get several hours of sleep before the fever madness had struck Alana. Since then he had only been
able to catch an hour or so of rest now and again. After two long days and nights of that, he was
both exhausted and frightened. He did not like to see anyone die, save for a few enemies he had
known, but the thought of Alana dying left him feeling cold and empty in a way he did not
understand. He breathed a hearty sigh of relief when she grew still, only to start cursing when she
then began to weep.
“I must find Keira,” she said, her voice thick and hoarse as she cried.
“Your sister?” he asked as he slid his arm beneath her shoulders, lifted her up a little, and tried to get her to drink a little water.
“Aye, my twin. She needs me, but they wouldnae let me look for her.”
“Ah, and so ye went to hunt her down by yourself.” Gregor sat next to her, kept his arm around her
shoulders, and held her close to his side.
“I can find her. I am certain of it.”
“So, there is another wee lass roaming the country, aye? One just like you?”
“Nay. Keira is beautiful and clever and sweet and has a true healer’s touch. I am just a wee brown
lass.”
Gregor looked down at her in surprise, but her eyes were closed again. “Ye are a bonnie wee lass.”
“Nay, just a wee lass. Keira is the bonnie one. Everyone loved Keira, and I cannae find her.”
“Ye will, lass. Cast off this fever, get weel and strong again, and we shall go ahunting.”
She did not really answer him, only muttered something about lack-witted brothers and smelly
Gowans and fell asleep again. Gregor gently settled her back under the blanket and his plaid. As he
stood up and stretched, he studied her. She was pale except for the scarlet tint of the fever in her
blood, her hair was a dull brown as if her illness had stolen away all hue and shine, and her full lips looked as if they had been burned by the sun. Alana was definitely not looking her best, and yet, he
had no difficulty seeing the beauty of her. He had to wonder who had given her the idea she was
just a “wee brown lass.” He also wondered why he wished to find the one who had convinced her
she was so plain and beat them until they could see more clearly.
Shaking away that thought, Gregor gently tied her down. He needed to leave her alone for a while
as he searched out some food and wood. Although finding such things as a bucket, rope, and a few
wooden plates and tankards had been helpful, he had
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