Chapter Text
The rain poured as thunder cracked through the sky, almost seemingly shaking the nearby mountains. Echoes of its presence looming, threatening over and over to come closer and closer. She dared it to. Storms were the one thing that never did scare her, she felt more of a rush of energy from all forces nature than she ever felt fear.
The petrichor smell of the earth sank itself into her, her hair soaked, turning her auburn and black curls to long streaks of blackened mess; from what was earlier that day, a loose French braid. Her black and grey flannel shirt that was overly big on her clung to her at her shoulders and back, her faded black tank top underneath struggled to keep up with her motions. Her pants had torn in several places, exposing bloodied wounds she had not bothered stopping for. Her trusted dark brown, leathery, steel toed boots carried her as far as she dare go, quickly becoming covered with mud and leaves.
She had only focused on running forward, no turns or spins about, she kept going. Through dense forest, thick brushes, eventually coming into the clearing. The sky ripped itself open with another streak of lightning, deafening the valley with more thunderous booms. It was late afternoon, but for as dark as the clouds were, you couldn't tell. She dared fate even more now.
She was leaving this place, this unknown beautiful land that had showed her nothing but terror since she had found herself here. A terror she had hoped to never have to encounter in life since she left such situations in the past. A fear so deep, a wound that never fully closed, ached through her as she ran.
"Fuck you! You can't make me go back there!" She shouted into the abyss of the storm, her voice strangled with a cry, dropping to her knees in front of the standing stones.
__________________________________________
Robin huffed a sigh at the end of a long day of work. She hung her tools on their designated racks, wiped down her workbenches and headed to pack up. She was a carpenter by trade, work horse by heart. There was no project she wouldn't be willing to take on. Robin often spent most of her extra time at work finishing the minute details on exterior work and pushing out what she could in a day. Her specialties were farm based works of art. Barn frames taller than average, custom built chicken coops, customised horse troughs, red river wagons, you name it, she built it. She had only ever twice beat her own record for he amount of work done in one shift, no one else had ever come near it.
Waving a goodbye to a few colleagues on their way out as she headed to the break room to clock out for the day. She shook off some dust from her clothes, shrugged on her dark brown leather jacket and grabbed the dark green and brown bag that sat awaiting on its hook. Clocking out for her final shift before a nice month long vacation she had been planning with her three friends, Jess, Laura and Kate.
"Were you just gonna leave without saying goodbye?!" A deep voice startled her, it entered the room before the man who it came from did. Max, her colleague and close trusted long time friend came strutting in with the dumbest grin on his face, obviously satisfied with himself for scaring her.
Anyone who knew Max and Robin knew how they loved to scare the wits out of each other, whether subtly or abruptly. Sometimes they took the small wins such as this, the art of being an ass as they would call it.
"Don't you worry your pretty little head, I'm not gone yet," Robin cooed at Max. She often enjoyed teasing him, he was the reason she could be herself here.
"Why? Do you want me to bring you back a t-shirt or something?" She joked.
Max smiled and shook his head, "Bring me back something cooler than that at least if you even go at all, do you even know where you're going yet?" Max half jokingly questioned her as they both gathered their belongings from the break room and readied to leave.
Robin gave a slight grin at his comment, he knew she had never been on any sort of plane before and how her fears of it always deterred her. Let alone the fact she had never left the country before either, even though she had family from other countries who would always ask her to visit. Although, deep inside her, she ached for adventure. Something was drawing her away from her comfortable life, like yarn being wound back up, she felt as if some force was pushing her away. Like life was daring her to be compulsive like she used to be. She almost craved extraordinary and extreme journeys. She had never had that opportunity before, her oppressive past never allowed for it.
"We're drawing it out of the hat tonight! I have no idea, I just hope it's not Mexico" Robin answered. She and three of her friends had all agreed to pay for a trip together, however they couldn't all agree on the destination so they each wrote on a peice of paper the place they each wanted to go and threw it into a hat.
"Why not Mexico? It's beautiful there!" Max questioned her, packing up his things and shaking dust from his clothes as well.
"Dude, everyone goes to Mexico! I wanna go see the ruins in Greece, the pure beauty of the land, the architecture man, you can't get any better than that, Kate only wants to go so she can get laid." Robin laughed and sighed off her thought with a solemn gaze while she packed up her last belongings.
She had old dreams of being an architect in her high school days, but her calculus skills failed her on it. Carpentry was the next best thing. After high school, Max helped her out with finding apprenticeships, she aced everyone she tried out but chose to stay where Max was, she dared not stay far from her comfort, she had built herself a paradise and refused to stray far from it. They had been working for the same company for almost 3 years now.
"Where ever you go, I hope you have fun, you deserve it. Thanks by the way for finishing that blueprint for me." Coming up behind Robin and putting his hand on her shoulder to spin her around, Max pulled her into a giant hug.
Robin felt uneasy as she pulled away from their hug, smiling at Max, she gave him a playful tap under the chin.
"Chin up buttercup." She smiled, her famous saying when she saw her friends in a saddened state.
She spun around and headed toward the door. She had known max for almost seven years now and never did she have a feeling like this after a hug. A knot in her gut made her uneasy, but her soul felt otherwise. Her gut churned with anxiety to stay, but behind the anxiety, a feeling of pressure to leave pushed her to not listen to her gut. Robin had a knack for second guessing herself though, she rarely listened to her gut. This girl marched to the beat of her own drum, fueled by adrenaline, the power of knowledge, confidence, and of course caffeine. Not gut feelings. Little did she know, this would be the last hug the friends would share for a long time. It would also be the the last time she would deny a gut feeling so deep.
"Don't you forget about me!" Robin sang the tune on her way out, walking toward her small black truck in the parking lot. As she started the engine her phone buzzed. It was her grandfather reminding her to make a stop by before leaving.
Max slowly turned the corner to go the other way as they left the warehouse building, waving one last goodbye to his last view of her, sadly feeling a knot in his gut as he walked away. Her tune hung in his mind all the way home.
___________________________________________
Her body hit the ground as she slipped mid run, water sunk into her bones from the rain. Thunder roared as lightning struck a tree nearby. Robin gathered herself enough to bring herself to her knees, sitting on the side of the hill where the stones sat upon. The smell of the burning tree lingered in the air as she took deep breaths. The stones loomed overhead, looking down as if taunting the girl. She was tired. The heavy downpour quickly faded to a thin shower as she struggled to get up, her boots heavy and soaked, her legs cut and bleeding, tired and sore. She had been running for almost a full day it seemed, since she first started to wander off into the mysterious, yet very familiar, land she was in.
The grass on the hillside made for a slippery climb but she did it, steadily she walked towards the stones of Craigh Na Dun. Sinking her boots into the mud in front of the centre stone. She outstretched her hand and placed shaking a red, bloodied palm over its moss covered surface, trickling with rainwater. Robin closed her eyes, hoping for some great force to sweep her away from what she has just been part of. For this phenomenon to be over, for this existential force to take her back where she belonged. For the dream to end.
Nothing happened.
She screamed. A sad, defeated, agonizing scream which dulled into a cry of shameful fear and anger. She should have listened to Kate, Jess and Laura, she wouldn't be here if she had just listened to her gut for once and admitted she had been wrong. It was no new feeling of despair to her, however it was new to her this feeling of lonesomeness.
Robin had been alone before, almost her entire life she had spent being her own company. But this new feeling came with a realization that her friends, her grandparents... she may never see them again.
"Fuck you! You can't make me go back there!" She shouted into the abyss of the storm, dropping to her knees in front of the standing stones. A clap of thunder was her only given reply from the world. The rain slowed more, a sprinkling mist now. The smoking pine tree covering the area with thin layers of smoke.
She sat down at the base of the stone, laying her back against it, catching her breath. Cursing herself. Cursing Jess, Kate and Laura for ever dragging her here. Cursing until she ran out of words. Her body shaking with grief.
Eventually she calmed herself down enough to discover some rational thoughts, her basic instincts were kicking in. She needed to find somewhere to hide, she needed shelter. She knew from her earlier mistake not to head north, the British had already dragged her to their camp and interrogated her there. She had to head toward a coast, find main lands to get back home, or so she hoped. She couldn't wrap her brain around the old stories of the stones her friends had told her, although she was not one to question the spiritual beliefs of the world, Robin usually took it with a grain of salt, she very much believed in science. There was no way this could be real.
Food was next on the list, her stomach growled with hunger, she hadn't eaten in almost two days now. Robin's hands were shaking, her fingers were turning blue from the chill in the air, then again she had always had bad blood circulation in her hands. She always said that it was the reason she always had steady hands with her work, numb fingers can't slip she would say.
Definitely not dressed to face the elements, she was counting on her knowledge of the wilderness and hunting she learned from her grandparents to figure out what to do now. Although she was in a different country, the same strategies could be applied. She raked her fingers through her long hair, moving it out of her face, blood from her palm trickled down her face. Slowly she stood, her legs sore from the wounds she had.
'Fuck that guy ughh, why, why did I have to do that... ' Her thoughts trailed off as she stood, listening.
The rain slowed, the dark clouds remained as a reminder that it was not yet over. Her heart thumped in her ears, birds chirped, the world was quiet for a moment. Then she heard it. The pounding of hooves beating against the wet ground, the sound of at least five or six men shouting, their English accents were undeniable. She froze, feeling helpless. Her gut folded over itself with fear, she was shaking with nerves. Robin puked at the base of the stone, as soon as she was done, she got up and ran. She felt like death. She had to hide.
As the men entered the clearing, they spotted the smoke. She could see him as she tried to run. The man with dark brown hair pulled back, and a clean shaven face, broadly dressed in what she knew to the uniform of a British officer in charge; his sword drawn, sitting upon a black stallion, racing to find her. Black Jack Randall. Galloping on their horses, shouting to each other as they hunted her.
Robin had found herself in a daze early in the dewy grass of the morning that day, lying at the base of the centre stone. She remembered trying to find the road, trying to find a sign of life when she awoke. She remembered the night out with her girls, the drunken debates they had about the lands they were visiting. She didn't remember how she got here though, this place with no roads, no signs of the world she knew to be found. She remembered the previous day with detail, there was no way her friends superstitions were right about this place. Robin was quickly proven to be on the wrong side of that argument. She wished so deeply she could go back, to be out of this place, this time. She remembered being tied up and dragged to some British camp when she tried to find help, she remembered being beaten and tortured by Randall, she remembered killing a man just hours earlier.
Robin didn't want to know why he wanted her in the first place, but she knew why he was hunting her down, she had to run. She knew he thought she was but a slave and a whore during their earlier encounter. She knew she angered him, Randall had let that be very clear to her.
Her heartbeat fluttered through her feet as she moved swiftly, hiding in the underbrush near the thickness of the forest across the clearing from the standing stones. She got down in the mud, quickly covering herself with some of it to disguise herself with the underbrush. Her heart was in her throat as she swallowed, slowing her breathing. She had only hoped they didn't see which way she went. She had only a vague idea of where she was, but no idea where to go. Her gut told her not to move, she listened. Robin knew better this time. She stayed as still as she could, suddenly a chill spiked through her, she felt almost... calm? She felt another set of eyes on her almost. She didn't move as the men on horses drew closer, stopping at the stones across the clearing from where she hid.
One of them said something to the man in charge and they seemed to nod to one another. They dismounted and started to look around. Robin knew what they were doing, trying to track her down, she only hoped the rain had washed away her footprints. She watched on as they inspected her streaks of blood on the middle stone, their swords and guns drawn and ready to fight.
Her body was aching, throbbing with pain. Her right leg especially, she took a quick glance down at it and saw the blood coming from it, oozing from the deepest wound Randall had given her.
Almost an hour or so seemed to pass by. Robin laid there, refusing to move, refusing to be found, refusing to let her injuries get the better of her. A chill set itself in the air, the wind wasn't helping. She would have to be more careful if what she thought was happening was actually happening. She had to remember her hunting skills, her instincts of survival if she was going to be stuck in this place. She let her thoughts drift into varied escape plans and alternate ways to live if need be. She dared not make a sound.
Suddenly she saw Randall mount his horse, the men had obviously given up looking for her. The sound of swords entering their sheathes was more relieving than anything. They said something to one another and all seemed to agree given their quick pace to pack up and go. She felt an ease wash over her, another chill coursed through her, feeling almost as though she was being watched from somewhere else. She still stayed hidden, as the men turned their horses and trotted off back toward where they came from.
Those horses were magnificent though, growing up on a farm, she had never seen ones like these. Clan lands she thought to herself. She knew a bit of history of Scotland, but given her 21st century education in Canada, she knew very little about the language and culture.
Randall and his men made it quickly to the other side of the valley and turned into the treeline, a calming silence washed over Robin. The tree had stopped smoking, the rain was still misting, the world was so much the same yet so different. She let her breath go and sat upright, stretching out her injured leg, inspecting her wounds, the darkness of the underbrush made it hard to see though. At least she would still be able to walk, no major muscles or veins seemed to be damaged.
Robin thought back to her grandfather, he was a war veteran "pack it with earth, stop the bleeding and you'll be fine..." his voice echoed in her mind, "tourniquet the area and stop circulation, slow down the bleeding.." Jess's voice rang. Robin did as they would have done. She quickly took off her belt and pulled it around her thigh as a tourniquet and started to cover her wounds with more mud.
"Chin up buttercup.." she said to herself under her breath, thanking the heavens she had at least bothered to learn some basic medical skills. She only hoped it wouldn't be an infection of all things that would take her out of this world.
*" A ’smaoineachadh nach fhàgadh iad gu bràth." A heavy Scottish accent cut through her like a knife. Startled, she quickly got to her feet and readied herself to fight. Her leg almost gave out under her, shaking and covered in blood now. She shook, although not letting her nerves get the best of her, she steadied herself and looked around wide eyed, more with bewilderment than fear.
Before her a man dropped himself out of a tree just a few paces from her, landing on his feet with a thud, he walked toward her slowly. Had he been hidden there the whole time? He was dressed in a kilt, no weapons drawn. He seemed about her age, maybe a couple years older, she couldn't tell. His curly red hair soaked from rain, his face covered in a stubbly mess. He was a tall and broad man, he was a good foot or so taller than Robin. His kilt pulled over most of his body, covered by a black wool cloak to shield him from the rain. Robin saw he was also covered in dirt like her, she noticed a pin on his clothes, but couldn't make out what was on it. She saw his stance relax a bit as he studied her.
She had a sturdy, muscular form, yet she was thin, she couldn't put up in a fight against him the man thought to himself. He tilted his head at her, and looked her up and down. His weapons were all put away, he dared not scare her off with them.
His eyes struck a curious sight on her, he slowly inched forward, raising his hands, as if trying to show he would not harm her. Eyeing her stance, the man took a small step toward her, she tensed and took a step back. Raising her fists, she looked around, trying to figure out where to go, she refused to be held captive again.
In a heartbeat Robin was already half way across the clearing from him. He blinked and she was gone, racing the wind through the wet, knee high grass. For the wounds he could see that she had, she didn't let them stagger her pace, he was almost impressed by it. He had been hiding up a tree, watching the scene unfold when the red coats appeared. He had heard her scream, he saw her sit and cry by the stones. Any man of this time would have assumed the woman was merely crazy and left the scene. But he had never seen a woman such as herself, a slave on the run was nothing new, but a woman covered in blood in the middle of nowhere was not an everyday sight.
The highlander took off after her, appearing from the underbrush after her at warriors pace. Quickly he followed her down the hillside, he outstretched his arms and jumped on her. Robin felt the weight of the man tackle her to the ground, his weapons clattering as he jumped and his force unforgiving, her face slid into the mud as she fell under him. He struggled to keep her still, she never stopped, she never said a word either, not so much as even a scream. Robin only fought, the pair wrestling on the hillside, the man keeping his bearing arms wrapped around her, her face still in the dirt, flailing her legs, she kicked him hard in the shin with her heavy boot, catching him off guard.
All the man was thinking was that she couldn't get away if she knew who he was. He was a wanted man, but he had business to take care of. He would not risk it, and by the looks of it, she needed the help too. If he was going to be caught, if at all, it wouldn't be because of some stranger, let alone slave, outing him to the English.
*"Dè an ifrinn a tha thu a ’dèanamh, tha iad a’ dol a ghlacadh sinn" The man yelled at her in Gaelic, but Robin still put up a fight. Swiftly, just after kicking him, she wrapped her arm under his, grabbed his wrist and twisted it; an old move she learned from Jess for self defense. In seconds she was ontop of him, her right hand pushed itself up under his Adam's apple, while the other pulled back into a fist that quickly met his face with a loud smack.
The man ripped himself away out from under her, cradling his eye and nose. He looked up at her as he sat upright, mouth hanging open, his eyes wide with shock. Robin didn't move, she stayed kneeling where she was on the hillside in front of him. She looked around, checking their surroundings, hoping the men weren't coming back. Looking back to the stranger, squinting her dark gaze at him, almost menacingly. She moved her hair out of her face and breathed hard, not saying a word. The man just started back at her, as if trying to ask what that was for. They gave each other the same confused yet inquisitive stare for a few moments.
Of all the scenarios in the world, Robin would have never imagined she would be sitting in Scotland, covered in blood and dirt while fighting with a total stranger in a kilt. She didn't say a word to him, instead she got to her feet, her boots letting out a watery cry as she did. She offered her hand to help the man up, watching as he used part of his kilt to wipe the blood from his face.
*"Tha thu làidir, airson boireannach" the man said, more softly spoken now, giving Robin a half grin.
Robin couldn't understand Gaelic, she only titled her head at him in confusion, giving the man a look of hopeless despair. She frowned and shook her head no. She dared not speak a word. He studied her body language.
"D'ye speak English?" He questioned, muffled through his hand which still held his face. Robin gave the slightest of a nod, weary of this stranger who had just tackled her, but now seemed to be making nice. The man stood up slow, waving off Robin's offer of help to stand, his kilt draped down over him, she could see the colours on his tartan but she dared not stare. Her gut told her to stay calm, yet stay on her toes.
She could only but stare at him, a questioning look as her dark eyes burned over him. He studied her all the same. They were foreign to one another, yet neither felt the spike of fear, or instinct to run when looking upon one another; after their little scene, they almost had a silent truce.
Robin motioned her head towards the underbrush where she had been, and turned on her heel to limply head back up to her hiding place. Her clothes drenched and muddy, her hair was a mess, Robin adjusted her make shift tourniquet and started to limp up the hillside once more. She just wanted to go back into hiding and hope none of this was real. The rain lightly misting the world around, Robin felt defeated and sighed on her way up. She felt no need to run from the man again, if he was anything like the other men, he would have taken advantage by now.
_________________________________________
Coming to a slow stop at a red light, Robin's mind was focused on what to pack for her trip. No matter where they would go, she wanted to be prepared, she definitely had that mindset of all her friends, always be prepared. Almost the mom type friend but something more so learned from experience, she would rather have something and not need it than need it and not have it. Her grandmother taught her that.
She would definitely be wearing her trusted boots where ever they went, the four friends were sure to go on a few hikes as they always did. Her friends always made fun of her choice of shoes, but she never cared, she always chose comfort over style.
As the light turned green, she could hear her phone buzzing. Not bothering to answer it while driving, Robin drove home with thoughts of the adventures she yearned to have with her friends. They had all always reveled in the mysteries of the world, wondering what it had to offer them. Her soul ached for this freedom, but the knot in her gut remained. The feeling of nervousness lifted, yet she couldn't quite put a finger on how she felt so drawn to leave. A few texts buzzed on her phone, probably the girls making grand plans for their last few nights in town, she only hoped she wouldn't be mothering her friends through hangovers at the airport.
~~~
Robin had met Jess and Max in middle school in the small town she moved to, on the border of Alberta and British Columbia, when she was 13. Jess and Max were her first real friends there, the only two people who accepted Robin for how she was, never making fun of her quiet nature or for her dirty farm clothes, never hiding her true self. They were like the siblings she never had.
Jess shared Robins fowl mouthed language, Max shared her interest of architecture. Jess lived in town with her parents and three brothers, Max was an only child, he also lived in town with his parents.
Robin met Kate in high school when they were sixteen. The two girls shared a ravenous appetite for knowledge of the world, feeding their brains with different insights of societal differences, religion, culture, mythology and scientific history. Yes, they were the history geeks. Kate came from a very Christian family, Robin was ever so thankful how open minded she was though, Robin herself wasn't religious she did however believe in science.
Laura dropped herself into their group out of nowhere, she moved to their small town during sophomore year. Her father needed a hearing specialist in the next town over, but housing prices were better here so they settled in. Laura shared the same passion for history as Kate and Robin, yet she was as fowl mouthed as Jess, and as smart as Max. The four of them became inseparable.
Often you could find them hidden away in the loft of the big barn Robin's grandparents had on their property. The friends would confide in each other, over time creating a bond that would hold them together.
Still, after so many years of friendship, Robin never told her friends her darkest secret, except Laura. Laura shared a similar secret with Robin. Robin had told them scraps and pieces surrounding it, but never revealed it. She feared it, she feared her friends would never see her the same if she were to let it spill, she feared being alone again if they knew.
Robin had a jealousy of her friends, something she would never be able to tell them on top of her own secrets. She was jealous of the lives they lived, with their parents, their stability. She knew it was wrong to be envious of such things, she admired them all while. They were her comfort, her chosen family.
Robin had moved to live with her grandparents on their farm, from Northern Ontario, when her mother had gotten into some trouble and life turned upside down back home. Her father had died when Robin was only five years old, she remembered very little of him, her fathers parents never pushed her away, always sending her letters and small gifts from the Carribean. She was their only granddaughter after all, yet the fear and anxiety was all that kept her from going there. Her mother was always up to something, the woman was never home. Robin had to grow up fast at a young age, she had to teach herself how to live, to survive. Her mother often times brought many strangers home. She often rooted for her mothers sobriety, but she just wasn't enough to be a voice of reason. She would often talk on the phone with her grandparents when she was alone. They spoke French, they had come to Canada from France, so Robin had no choice but to learn it. She despised the English language for its many faults ever since learning French. She was a fast learner, and a critical one at that.
She had lived in a big city in Ontario, her mother was held up with a bad group of people, and her father was dead. Robin felt as if she were but a mere speck of dust on the world. She found a friend in herself, enjoying her own company for years. Never being able to make friends, always moving from one place to the next, she never said a word to anyone.
If only it weren't the one moment that turned her life upside down, the one day her mother should have been there. She may have never moved to Alberta with her grandparents, she may have never gone on a trip to Scotland. She may have never left her time. fate could be a cruel mistress.