Outsider (Time of Myths: Shapeshifter Sagas Book 4) by Natasha Brown

Author:Natasha Brown [Brown, Natasha]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Future Impressions
Published: 2017-08-16T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 8

A week went by without much rest for anyone. Creag started getting up before Kristie could startle him awake and prepared for another day of hard labor. He hoped her tension would ease once the crops were sowed, but he realized when each item was ticked off her list of chores, there was something else waiting to be done. She was more tightly wound than a wild pony tethered for the first time, yet he couldn’t help the fact that he enjoyed getting her stirred up.

Creag woke with a start. He could still taste saltwater on his lips and hear waves lapping, punctuated with the shrill calls from seagulls. Like every morning, he was lying in the dark, now-familiar shadows of the byre. Sadness and loss gripped his heart, although he didn’t know why. The dream that shocked him awake every morning left him haunted. He thought of the streaks of red that clouded the water around him and the muffled shouts that filled his ears. The voices didn’t strike him as being familiar, and although he tried, he couldn’t determine what they were calling. It nagged at the corner of his mind, although with Kristie keeping him busy, he didn’t have the time to dwell on it, so he got up and secured his plaid over his shoulder and belted it around his waist.

He glanced at the walking stick, sitting against the wall in the corner. He’d set it aside, believing no one would suspect a magical recovery nearly two weeks after his injury. Creag still limped for the show, but he knew he had a place to stay until Domnall returned.

Before leaving the shadowy confines of the byre, he stretched his arms, wrapping his fingers over the edge of the threshold and leaning into it. Creag glanced at the loch. He hadn’t tried to return to his magical seal form. He recalled how absorbed he’d become when he’d sped through the cool waters. It was such a freeing sensation, he wasn’t sure if he’d want to return to land and didn’t want to take the risk. Jean and Kristie needed help until Domnall found his way home, something Creag was beginning to doubt would happen, despite the repeated searches organized by Jean and Eileanor.

Creag walked to the dimly lit infield and bent over to pull a weed. The morning sun was covered with gray clouds, although he couldn’t detect the smell of rain on the horizon. He looked in the direction of Jock’s home. The lad hadn’t been seen since their mud fight, and he was beginning to miss him. Jock seemed to be the only one around there who knew how to enjoy himself, and the drudgery of working on the farm was wearing on Creag. He could have used a game or another selkie tale to keep his mind distracted from the mundane labor that made him wish for something more.

Shouting drew his attention, and he looked across the field at Kristie, who was standing just outside of the stone house, waving her arms about and cursing at the ravens.

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