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James entered the healer’s cottage in a huff. He was hot, tired and cranky.

He’d risen before dawn to ride to another part of the clan’s territory. He’d been summoned a few days earlier by a request from one of the chieftains to appraise some cattle, a task not requiring his guide to accompany him.

Before leaving, James had deposited Blair with the sept’s healer, an old codger named Corc. Blair was instructed to stay with the old man until James’ return later in the day, and make himself useful in whatever way needed.

Upon arriving at his destination, James had been called upon to help settle several petty disputes. Most were dispatched quickly, the litigants deciding they’d as soon not face the sentinel’s scrutiny. James had sat through the proceedings patiently, but was none too happy about the extra time he’d not planned on.

The cattle were then appraised by James’ sensitive touch and keen vision, the task taking longer than necessary as the beasts were inclined not to be cooperative. James’ inspection found the animals to be of sound breeding and free from disease or defect…a good investment. With the sentinel’s favorable appraisal of his livestock, the seller decided to haggle for a better price than had been agreed, once again prolonging James’ stay.

Just as he’d been about to take his leave, he’d been approached to investigate a sudden scarcity of game in the area. Several more hours were added to his absence from home as he traced the cause to a contaminated watering hole. From that point, he’d easily followed the trail of a small herd of deer, which led to a fresh water source and an abundance of tracks.

The additional time spent using his senses when not expected had taken its toll. James found he’d sorely missed his guide’s reassuring presence.

Hours later than he’d anticipated, James had finally been able to head home. By the time he arrived at the outskirts of Cascade Moor it was late afternoon. He made straight for Corc’s hut to collect his guide and soothe his frayed senses.

A myriad of smells pelted James as he entered the hut, and the damp, earthy feel of drying herbs and plants crawled across his skin. Remnants of odd mixtures of medicinal potions and powders hung in the air and settled on his tongue. The things he’d hoped and expected to find…the sight and sound of Blair…were noticeably absent, fueling his foul mood. He greeted Corc with a less than cordial demand to know the whereabouts of his guide.

The old man narrowed his eyes and let out a disgusted ‘humpf’ in response.

"And how should I know? Were he here ye’d surely see him would ye no? Or hear him I’d wager." Corc cackled mischievously. "He near talked me ear off, he did. ‘What’s this, then?’ and ‘What’s this used for?’, all the while poking and picking and touching and…" Corc mimicked Blair’s animated motions, moving about his small work area as he spoke. He stopped in front of the shelf on which sat the microscope James had procured in Edinburgh. He turned and winked at James. "I slapped his hand, right smart I did, when he thought he’d take hold of this, pretty as you please."

James smiled in spite of himself; he’d made it clear on more than one occasion Blair was not to touch the microscope until he had James’ approval to do so.

"Have ye sent him off home, then? Was the wee slip of a lad more than ye were able to handle?"

James found himself staring down his nose at a wrinkled, crooked finger waggling in his face. "Twas no a matter of handling him. We got on fine, we did. He’s a right smart lad, and make no mistake, eager to learn and doesna let much escape his notice." Corc withdrew the finger, waved his hand dismissively, and went back to puttering with his herbs. "I sent him off to gather, och, now, what was it?" Corc paused and scratched his cheek thoughtfully. "Weel, it doesna matter, does it? He didna come back."

"How long ago was this?" James demanded.

"Oh, well, I suppose it was four or five hours ago," Corc stated.

James’ sour mood increased.

Blair had been told quite clearly to stay at Corc’s…a ‘chore’ he loved… until James’ return and it would seem the boy could not follow even such simple directions.

James turned and left abruptly, bidding a curt farewell to Corc on his way out the door. He made straight for the Ellison house, with the firm resolve to shake some sense into his headstrong young guide.

But Blair was not at the house, or anywhere on the grounds.

James’ grumpiness soon gave way to worry as his inquiries regarding Blair’s whereabouts were met with baffled looks, shrugged shoulders and negative responses.

Just as he was about to give up and head back to Corc’s, one of the stable lads came running up to him, out of breath. He’d seen Blair, not an hour past.

"And where was it ye saw him, lad? Was he all right? What was he doing?"

The boy pointed off to the west. "He was in the meadow where the white heather grows. On the hillside above the bend in the river, you’ll know the place?"

James nodded brusquely and motioned for the boy to continue.

"He looked to be fine, although I’m not sure what he was doing. I waved and hollered, and he waved back. So I went about my business."

James clapped the boy on the shoulder. "There’s a good lad. Off with you, now!"

Before the boy could comment further, James had spun about, and went stomping off to collect his guide.

He’d gone from hot, tired and cranky to sour and grumpy and then on to worried, all in the short span since he’d arrived home. From the look of things, Blair had taken it upon himself to ignore James’ instructions, and go gallivanting off on his own when he should have been helping Corc. Heaven help the lad if he could not offer James a good reason for his actions.

James covered the route from the house to the meadow in short order. He easily zeroed in on his guide’s heartbeat, and followed the steady thrumming until the field of heather came into view.

And there was Blair, lying on his back on the gently sloping hillside, stretched out lazily among the grasses and flowers. James was far enough away that Blair hadn’t noticed his arrival. The sentinel immediately brought all his senses to bear on his guide, assuring himself the lad was not injured in any way.

Blair was barefoot; his shoes and stockings cast about in disarray off to one side. His legs were crossed at the ankles, his toes wiggling slightly. His shirt was in its usual state of being half tucked into his kilt and his hands rested on his stomach, fingers intertwined. Curls, braids and trinkets haloed his head, deceptively lending the urchin a cherubic quality. He was gazing up at the sky with a look of pure contentment on his face.

The look on James’ face was far from content.

Spotting a stand of hickory trees, the highlander made a slight detour. He stomped over to the trees, and quickly cut a stout switch. He swished it through the air several times. Satisfied with his selection, he held the switch tightly in one hand and walked purposefully over to Blair.

He stopped a few feet from where his guide lay. The sun was to his back and his shadow fell across Blair’s prone figure. He fisted his hands on his hips, the switch hidden from view behind his back. His rigid stance radiated displeasure as he fixed a stern glare on the oblivious youngster.

It was the loss of the sun’s warmth on his face that finally drew Blair’s attention. He wrested himself up, supporting his upper torso on his elbows. He then leaned to one side, freeing one hand to shade his eyes as he squinted up at James.

A smile lit his face. "James!" Blair collapsed onto his back and resumed his observation of the clouds drifting leisurely across the sky. "’Tis a beautiful day, is it no? Can ye smell the sweet grass and the wild flowers and the heather ready to burst into bloom?" He sighed contentedly and continued, not giving James a chance to answer. "I’ve not lain in a field of heather since I was ten or eleven years old."

James shifted his stance pointedly, in an attempt to emphasize his annoyance at Blair’s lack of notice of his irritated state.

The effect was lost on Blair as the lad closed his eyes, resuming his reverie. "Naomi found employment for a time at a candle works. I dinna remember where, exactly; I was of an age when I paid little heed to such things. There was an attic above the work area and we were allowed to sleep there, along with some of the other workers. It was nice to have a roof over our heads, and some other lads to play with for a time. I remember there was a huge field nearby, bursting with color. Naomi and I would lie down among the blooms after she’d finished the day’s work. We’d relax and laugh and eat bread and cheese and drink sweet water from the stream."

James’ vexation grew. "I’ve told you I do not think it proper for you to call your mother by her given name, have I not?"

Blair’s answering laugh grated on James’ nerves, "Aye, you have, James. But if Naomi didna mind then, I canna understand why it should bother you now." Blair let out a whoop and pointed skyward. "Look there, ‘tis a two-master, can ye see the sails billowing in the wind? Ahoy! Captain! Look sharp now, or you’ll surely run aground!"

James started at the sound of Blair’s exclamation and his gaze involuntarily followed the youngster’s direction. He furrowed his brow in confusion, studying the same cloud formation Blair was conversing with. He saw the overlapping layers and without much difficulty was able to make out the individual water droplets which made up the aggregate shapes. But they were still just clouds.

He was about to yank the youngster to his feet and make good use of the switch he’d cut. If Blair had grown bored at Corc’s, or if there was not enough for the healer to keep him busy, so be it. But there were plenty of other chores to occupy the lad, had he the sense to return to the manor house and seek out Simon. At the very least, he should have known to let someone know his whereabouts.

James’s resolve to skelp the lad was shattered as Blair spoke again. He was speaking in the hushed, deliberate tones of someone reciting from memory…private thoughts, but spoken aloud, not caring if the secret was overheard.

"She was not much older than I am now when she met my father. He was older than she, by several years, and a braw lad. ‘You’ve his eyes,’ she would tell me, ‘And the same mischievous smile.’ Their two families were bitter enemies, and so they were forbidden to see each other." Blair’s eyes clouded over, and he blinked back the moisture forming in their corners. "They ran off together, to be wed. No priest would perform the ceremony, for the feud between the two families was well known. But they were sore in love, and so they hand-fasted. Not long after, my father’s family sent him away, and my mother never saw him again, nor did she ever find out what became of him. When she learned she was with child, her father turned her out, calling her all manner of vile, nasty things." Blair broke off, swallowing past a sudden lump in his throat.

To James’ thinking, Naomi’s father was well within his rights. The lass had no business defying her father’s wishes and behaving in such a base manner…

"Can you imagine that, James?" Blair’s choked voice sounded terribly young. "Her own father? Turning her out?" Blair swiped a sleeve across his dampened eyes and cheeks. When he continued, his voice returned to its normal timber. "As we traveled from place to place, Naomi would often tell people she was my sister. ‘Tis why I began calling her by her name. We were treated much better, even by strangers, when it was thought she was aught but a young lass taking on the burden of seeing to the upbringing of a sibling, rather than a bastard son."

James felt a tightness grip his chest and encircle his heart as he listened to his wee monster. He suddenly found he could not imagine what it must have been like for the lad and his mother, with no family…no home. He thought of his own childhood. He and Stephen had never wanted for anything. Meals were not always feasts, but they’d never gone hungry, never worried where their next meal would come from. And if they’d wanted…every now and then…to lie in a field of heather and daydream, it had never earned them a whipping.

James dropped to his knees beside Blair, letting the switch, and his cares, slip away from him. "Ah, well, then. I suppose it’s not such a terrible thing, after all, for ye to call your mother Naomi. I’ll not take you to task for it."

Blair looked up at James and smiled. He noticed, then, the angle of the sun. It dawned on him it had grown late, he’d been gone longer than he should have, and no one knew where he’d gone. He sat bolt upright, a frantic look replacing the contented smile as he realized James had come in search of him.

"James, I, I, I must have lost track of the time." He twisted about, grabbing for his shoes. "It was just---I saw the meadow and it reminded me---I’d only meant to tarry for a little while---I…"

The highlander snatched the shoes from Blair’s hands and tossed them back where they’d been. Blair watched in amused silence as James toed his own shoes off, and kicked them to one side. He then rolled his stockings down, removed them from his feet and flung them over Blair’s head.

James plopped onto his backside and eased himself onto his back, wriggling his toes in the long blades of grass. He closed his eyes, savoring the untamed scents of his beloved Highlands and the warmth of the sun on his face. He listened to Blair’s heartbeat, and fingered the beaded-hair choker at his neck as the lad flopped down next to him, snorting with laughter.

When he opened his eyes a few minutes later, he no longer saw clouds in the sky overhead.

"Look, Blair." He tilted his chin upwards. "Do ye see it?"

Blair scrunched his face, narrowing his eyes against the glare of the sun. He studied the sky for a few minutes, allowing the clouds to shift and roll until a familiar shape took form. "It’s a cait shee, is it no?’ he asked in amazement. He turned his head toward James, who was smiling blissfully.

"Aye, it is. And do ye also see the wee creature by its side, pestering and making a nuisance of itself?" James reached over and gave his wee monster’s hair a playful tug.

"’Tis a wolfpup."

Blair laughed delightedly, immediately taking James’ meaning. He batted James’ hand away and slapped him on the shoulder. "Are ye saying I’m a bother, then?"

"Aye, indeed ye are," James stated seriously. "And a pest, and a nuisance," he added mirthfully. "But one I do not care to be without."

Blair liked the sound of that and his smile widened. He wriggled and settled himself more comfortably, quietly gazing upward. Neither spoke for several long moments.

"White heather is good luck, did ye know that, James?" Blair’s voice was a near whisper and very earnest. "Naomi said so once."

"Did she?" James said thoughtfully. "Then it must be true."

James breathed deeply, inhaling the scent of his guide wrapped in the sun-warmed heather.

And he believed it.

The End