Cruel Snow

II. Sarah

On the southern ridge of the glen, three streams converged and descended the mountains as one waterfall, coursing and cascading its way down over the craggy terrain as a single entity. High above, the waters were watched closely by three peaks that jutted out of the mountain ridge, tall and imposing as they stood proud over the glen. Aonach Dubh, Beinn Fhada, and Gearr Aonach: the Three Sisters of Glencoe.

In the shadow of the Sisters, a young woman stood shivering in the snow. If Sarah had taken more time to consider the matter, she might have had the notion to wear another layer beneath her dress, but her mind had been far more preoccupied with leaving the farmstead unnoticed than with her clothing. At least she had been successful in that endeavour, and walking had given her some warmth. It was only now that she had reached her destination that the cold had started to creep deeper into her sinew. To distract herself from the chill spreading up her spine, Sarah turned to watch the river. From the bottom of the waterfall, it flowed westwards, towards the soon to be setting sun that shone on its surface, threading streaks of gold into the silver rippling stream.

On the other side of the water, a stag stepped out into the dimming light. It was a magnificent creature, larger than any Sarah had seen before in the glen. In the open, the deer stopped and stood stock still, its nostrils flaring and dark eyes wide as it took in the sight of the young woman facing it. Sarah, too, remained motionless, barely breathing, lest she caused the beast to startle.

But then, a twig snapped behind her, and the stag turned tail and fled. A mere moment later, the Sisters, the river, and the sun all disappeared. All light vanished from the world, and Sarah was plunged into darkness, a pair of gloved hands covering her eyes. She let out a short, sharp cry of surprise, and someone chuckled into her ear.

'Och, you wouldnae be feart, would ye?'

The voice was low and honeyed and entirely familiar. Sarah reached up and took hold of the hands resting on her face. She could not move them.

'Let go of me, Sandy!' she said, almost laughing. The same deep chuckle echoed in her ear once more.

'Aye, I might,' Sandy MacDonald's voice told her. 'If you give me a kiss.'

'Nae chance.'

'That is a pity. I should never have set my sights on a woman who valued her own reputation,' said Sandy. 'I should be chasing after a lass with looser morals.'

'Then why are you here?'

'Because, alas, I only have eyes for you, Sarah McGregor. Even if ye willnae give me even one tiny, wee kiss...'

Sarah did not soften at Sandy's lamentations, and he soon released her. The cool light of the low sun seemed even brighter now that he had removed his hands from her eyes and she could see him standing in front of her. She did her utmost not to return the mischievous smile that played on his lips, instead placing her hands on her hips to berate him.

'All a lass has is her honour, you ken that as well as I do,' she said, and Sandy nodded, all in earnest now.

'And that is why I wouldnae dream of dishonouring you.' He cast a glance over each shoulder before adding, 'Although, if ye were to kiss me, there is no one here that would witness it.'

He wriggled his eyebrows, and Sarah couldn't help but laugh at his expression. She pushed against his chest gently with one hand, and he pretended to stumble backwards.

'Perhaps no one would witness it, but I can think of one person who may still ken about it.'

'Oh, aye?'

'Aye. Corrag might,' Sarah told Sandy. 'I walked past her on my way here.'

'And what did the auld crone have to say today?'