Highland Island (Book 6)

Chapter 10

Chapter 10

"Isla!"

A grunt and groan.

"ISLA!" A push on her shoulder as she sprawled on her back. The floor beneath her harsh against her tired body. She was used to her place upon the floor, but sometimes, after a night of trekking in the forest. It was a little too hard to be appreciated.

"Ma, please." The pleading sounded weak in her own ears, and she knew her mother would be having none of it.

"Don't you Ma me. I know you had a late night." Isla sat straight up at those words. What did her mother know?

"Now, don't be looking at me like that either, Isla. I won't be saying anything to Cook this time. But many more and I will be."

Isla felt as if she were deflating. Thank the Lord, her mother had not caught her coming in after her fool friends finally managed to find their way out of the forest. Luckily they had not met any fellow forest dwellers on the way either. Though she had heard the men return to their cottages as the dawn light was breaking and Isla was drifting into a fitful sleep. Which could have only been minutes ago. But from the look of the light, may have been just over an hour ago.

Jumping to her feet, mind suddenly on alert, she darted around the room trying to find the things her mother had tidied away from the floor. Or more appropriately when Isla had thrown them just prior to her collapsing into her nest of blankets.

"What has you all riled up so suddenly?" Her mother had chosen to be amused, which happened just as often as anger. But Isla was in no mood for jesting this morn. She would have happily dealt with her mother's anger, as she tended to sulk more than shout. An amused mother meant she wanted to talk.

"Nothing, Ma. I've just realised how late you let me sleep. I need to be in the Keep." Where Cook could kill her more cleanly and serve her up as dinner for the temerity of being late.

"Nay, you do not. You need to help me today. We are behind on the Keep's washing." Her mother nodded to the pile of dirty laundry from the Keep which gave their family a few pennies more each quarter pay. The guilt at not helping her mother, when they needed those pennies to keep themselves fed through the winter, ate at her gut. The ache almost feeling real.

"But if I do not go to Cook, I could lose that job altogether." At this moment, she did not overly mind that. Cook was more troublesome to work for than anyone else in the clan. But the pay was needed, and the job was a vital one to keep the people of her Clan fed, when some of those kept her safe. It may also be the only food some of her clan mates ate. Knowing that the role they had gave them the right to eat the evening meal in the main Keep. But did not earn them enough to pay for extra food during the day. It was why Isla always 'miscounted' her portions for the evening meal, and that meant her extra rolls could be taken to the workers around mid morn when most broke their fast.

"Well, then, it is a good job I spoke to Cook yester eve bout the issue then. 'Aint it." Her mother's fists where clenched and on her hips. The stance a well-known one from when she was a bairn. If her mother was going to be unmoving on a subject, then this was the stance she took up. There was no way she would not do what her mother asked now. And she would never jeopardise Isla's job by lying about speaking to Cook.

"Wait," Isla spun on her mother, from where she was plaiting her braid. "Just when did you speak to Cook yester-eve?" Eying her mother suspiciously, she took the ragged piece of cloth to tie of the end of her braid. The finished item swinging against the small of her back after she released it. "Cook spent nearly every moment of yester-eve, making it very known, of what she thought of us all."