The Broken Link

Twelve

"Who're you?" Astrid demands, not lowering her axe and ignoring his question.

"My name is Young MacIntosh, but I prefer Mac. Suits me better, don't ya think?" The young man smirks a little, flexing his arms. "But I do want to know how it is that you're all alive and not killing each other."

I exchange a glance with Elsa and Astrid. The mere fact that he expected us to be dead is enough to set off alarms in my head. He knows something about how we all wanted to kill each other.

"Where did everyone go?" I ask him quickly, ignoring his question.

"They left the village as soon as the curse settled upon our grounds," says Mac. "Now, how did you overcome the curse?"

"The curse?" I repeat, feeling confused. Mac sighs, looking annoyed.

"MacIntosh isn't exactly known for our humbleness," Mac says wryly. "We know we're better than everyone else. We don't keep it to ourselves. So a couple weeks ago, some mysterious hooded sorceress strolled through our town. I guess she was jealous of our clearly better-than-everyone-else thing we've got going on," Mac smirks now, flipping his hair. "So she decides to cast some sort of curse on us. Told us that the next time we set foot on the living grounds of MacIntosh, we would all feel the senseless need to kill each other. So when she left, everyone began to attack each other. I got over it quickly, because I realized that I was better than everyone, so I didn't need to kill to show off my obviously superior skills at everything," another hair flip here, "but not everyone agreed with me. They all decided to flee our village. I stayed behind. I'm next in line as Clan Leader. I have duties. Responsibilities."

Somewhere, in the back of my mind, I hear my own voice complain about something from my forgotten past. I've got duties, responsibilities! I've got my whole life planned out for me!

I wonder what could've been so terrible in my past. Someone had planned my life out for me. Had that plan included me getting amnesia?

"You expect us to believe you? Just like that?" Astrid scoffs. "Seems pretty far-fetched to me."

"Magic sorceresses aren't that hard to find, believe it or not." Elsa says quietly, and I nearly forget that with her powers, she could be mistaken for a sorceress.

"So ladies," says Mac, sitting down at the kitchen table. We cautiously sit back down. "How about you tell me your story, hm? I mean, it can't be half as good as mine, but it must be interesting."

It can't be safe to tell him out whole story. Something urges me not to trust him completely.

"We need tah git tah DunBroch," I say to Mac.

"Do you know anything about Wisps?" Elsa presses him.

"The Will O' The Wisps?" Mac sniggers. "Jeez. You girls are so stupid. Too bad that you're not as smart as me. Those are just an old Scottish folk tale. Don't exist."

"I 'ave seen 'em," I frown at Mac. "They are real."

"So he doesn't know anything," says Astrid, looking at Elsa and I. "Now what?"

"Do you know how to get to DunBroch or not?" Elsa demands, looking impatient.

"Sure do," says Mac. "Been there before. Not too shabby. 'Course, my clan is a thousand times better."

I was ready to slap him if he said one more big-headed comment. By the way Astrid was grinding her teeth, it looked like she was on the same page as me. Even Elsa was beginning to tap her nails, looking annoyed.

"Great!" I say with false cheerfulness. "Now, why don't yah be a good lass an' point us in tha righ' direction?"

"Wha'? Do I look like a guide dog?" snorts Mac.