Lochlainneach

Into the Mist

Featured Gaelic and Pronunciations:

- Gabh mi ris na reultan (gahv mee rees nah ree-uhlt-ahn) - take me to the stars

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11 February, 1751

CAILEAN POV

"Ye mean te say our grandmother - our mother's mother - is a Viking," Cailean asked his sister and good brother, who had just informed him of this news. "How long have ye kent this?"

"Since yesterday," Catrìona replied.

"And some auld crone told ye?" Cailean asked.

"Aye, one who claims te be from Hy-Brasil," Jamie chimed in.

"Hy-Brasil," Cailean repeated. "The mythical island."

"Tha's what I said, but aye," Catrìona told him.

"And ye believed her," Cailean replied.

"What she had te say was verra convincin'," Jamie told him. "She said if we didnae go te tell yer grandmother te leave, ye wouldnae be born, and neither would the children."

"Wait, what?" Cailean asked suddenly. The children wouldn't be born? He wouldn't be born? Was this really something to mess with?

"Aye," Catrìona told him. "I dinnae ken if it's true... but if it is, I dinnae want te risk it."

"Well... How long do we have?" Cailean asked her, and Jamie and Catrìona exchanged a glance before looking at him again.

"We're no' sure," his sister answered him. "The sooner we leave, the sooner we can get home te our children, aye?"

"I just... I dinnae ken aboot this," Cailean replied with a heavy sigh. "I mean, I suppose it's no' too far-fetched. Our own father travelled te the twenty-second century and us te this one... But Hy-Brasil?"

"I ken it sounds barmy, Cailean, but we need te take it seriously. All right? I am not takin' anythin' that threatens the lives of my children lightly, and ye shouldnae either," Catrìona told him. "Think aboot it, and fast. Whether or not ye believe me, I'm goin'."

"Aye, I will, as well," Jamie chimed in, and Catrìona's head whipped in his direction.

"No the hell ye are not ," she said firmly. "Who's goin' te watch the children?"

"If ye think even fer a moment tha' I'm lettin' ye go alone-"

"Jamie, we've discussed this! I'm perfectly capable of handlin' myself, aye? Who the hell got myself and Archie across the highlands, aye? And need I remind ye of when ye sent me off on my bloody own at Falkirk?" Catrìona snapped at him, interrupting her husband.

"Aye, the scars on yer shins never cease te remind me," Jamie replied. "I'm no' lettin' ye go alone."

"We dinnae even ken if ye can go! What if only travellers can go? Ye cannae hear the stones," Catrìona shot back, and Cailean let out a frustrated huff.

"Enough, both of ye," he said, interrupting the squabbling couple. "I... I'll think aboot it... If what ye say is true, then tha' means Cillian and Caoimhe willnae be born, either. But... history says I'll be the next Laird. What if all of this is nonsense and history continues as is?"

"History can be changed," Catrìona told him. "It could mean tha' we do go te Hy-Brasil, or at least I go. Alone ."

"Yer no' goin' alone and tha's final," Jamie spat back.