My Wee Mate

3 - Highland Hillsides

Ailsa

    
     My hand pricks against the rough bark beneath my palm, sending me down toward the ground for a second before I regain my ever-slipping grip.

The half fall is enough to give me a small scare, but not enough to stop my journey up. I kick away my skirts, annoyed.

I may be semi-talented at scaling things, but my wardrobe tends to get in the way when it's the least convenient. I blow a blonde strand from my face through the side of my mouth.

"Curse this stupid dress." I grumble to myself, pulling at my mountain of skirts as they snag on each and every passing bump of tree bark and stray branch.

The massive oak underneath my skilled hands is so ancient that flecks of moss fall with each grab at the knobs and broad limbs. I try to dodge the very mossy parts, knowing that I'll be asking for green stains on my dress.

I'm not allowed much exercise, but this is fine, at least that's what I tell myself. If anyone actually knew they would surely wring my neck. My Mother and Gentry especially would disapprove. I can practically hear their nagging now.

What they don't know won't kill them, and this won't kill me either, I won't let it. Because how could something that makes me feel so alive possibly kill me? This is what it is to be living. Even when this sickness does kill me, I will not regret doing things that took my breath away in the best way.

That's what I tell myself as I get closer and closer to the top of my favorite tree. My bare feet brush on green leaves, my hair swept up by little twigs and gusts of the freshest air. The closer I get to breaching the top, the more I start to sweat, the more my muscles strain, but my breathing becomes easier.

This is where I come to be free.

I finally feel the euphoric bits of sunlight flitting onto my face from above. The warm light is tinted green, reflecting on everything and covering my skin like a blanket of warm wool.

My head pops through the top of the tree, and I gasp when the beauty of the land is in my grasp. I rake my eyes over it hungrily, selfishly. I love this land that God has blessed us with. I feel as though He had me in mind when He layered the rolling hills of grass and cliffs of edgy rocks and stones.

It's rare moments like these that I remember that I am indeed alive. I may not be well, but I am alive, and I have that much to be grateful for. While I have air in my lungs and a beat in my chest, I can enjoy the beauties of this earth. I just have to get past the ones who would try to keep me from that simple joy.

I'm not sure how long I stay nestled in the tree, wanting to avoid everyone for as long as possible. I came out here as early as I could.

I just sit and dream, my legs tucked under me, my breathing controlled but slightly uneven.

My breathing is like my life in a lot of ways. I can try my best to control it, but there will always be things that are out of my hands.

My mind wanders to my father as I tease tiny green leaves between my fingertips. He wants to marry me off to solidify an alliance between clans. It only makes sense, I am a laird's daughter after all, and daughters are pawns. I am nothing more than property swapped to make men shake hands and revel in their cleverness.

The thoughts gurgle in my belly, upsetting and overturning the slice of toast I swiped from the kitchen earlier this morning.

The gorgeous view no longer appeals to me as it did only minutes ago, not even as the haze of fog drifts across the highlands like a pack of ghosts ready to haunt the nearest girl in a tree.