[Reviews - 66]
-
Table of Contents [Report This]
Microsoft Word Chapter or Story |
Printer Chapter or Story |
ePub eBook Chapter or Story |

Has been viewed 1403 times

- Text Size +




Thank-you to all my reviewers, you're fantastic�”got me working extra quick-smart on this chapter!

Just to answer a couple of questions; No, never written anything that's been published, but would love to in the future, maybe, and unfortunately, I haven't got my own website. I thought about setting one up but I've just never got round to it--too lazy,lol!. Anyway, hope you enjoy chap.4.M'iko,xx


Laird= Scottish Lord.


Chapter.4.


It had been a regular thing of hers for a couple of years now---her early morning cloud walk. She’d only gained real confidence in her abilities after a long time had passed living at the mansion. Never in a million years before that would she have thought of flaunting her powers so---but still she made sure that there was absolutely nobody about before she stepped off the sill of their bedroom window and struck out into mute sky of pre-dawn blue.


Eyes alight with a white fire, Ororo Munroe soared forth, dipping and swerving---manipulating the air currents just enough to keep her aloft but she let the wind take her where it would. Swooping over the rolling hills and hidden brooks, the world appeared life a scale model of itself from her elevated position---a position she felt so privileged to behold in this way. She closed her milky eyes as dark, weighty clouds converged above her, an unconscious act on her part, giving the earth below a light smattering of rain. The currents raced about her with all their life and vibrancy, passing on their sentience or perhaps gaining it from her. It was an exchange of life force, a kind of...symbiosis.


Finally Storm came to a rest atop of one of the peeking hills, the dew drops cool on her feet, giving her an excellent view of the entire glen. She breathed in deep, letting her head fall back; a silent blessing to the Goddess on her lips as her lose hair flailed about her. She hadn’t been this...content, in years...


“Enjoying the view?”


Ororo was rudely broken from her meditations as the lilting voice burst from behind her, cutting like a knife through the morning’s peace. She turned abruptly---the man with the shallow face and penetrating, severe eyes stood before her; body clad in black. “I’m sorry,” She laughed lightly, “You startled me.”


“Sorry...Miss Munroe.” The stranger offered, making a gesture with his hand against his chest.


“Ororo, please.” She implored him out of politeness.


“Ororo.” He repeated affably, somewhat slowly.


She smiled, although she fully realised that it looked forced----and it certainly was. So she turned from him; taking her eyes back down onto the craggy and velvet textured glen below. A lesson in visual contradictions. There were no words for a time; only the gentle whistle of the wind that still whipped her hair haphazardly, though the clouds had rolled back now, revealing a lighter sky but still no sun to set it ablaze. Dawn was a good half-an-hour away at least.


All through that time the man had remained just behind her and that made Ororo feel more uncomfortable than the mere fact that he was there. There was a shifting noise; it made her turn her head, just slightly like a reflex towards it. But she looked forwards again as she sensed him stepping up to her side. Her head fixed resolutely forwards. But she broke eventually, she couldn’t stand the silence any longer---there was no way that she could simply walk away. So she would have to talk.


“How long have you lived here?” She asked by way of making conversation---any conversation.


He did not rush to answer, moreover it was as if he wished the silence to extend. But eventually he replied, “All of my life.” He looked over to her and then back out at the landscape, “As my father, and his father before him and his father before him.” She heard him take a soft breath. “...and so it goes.” He added quietly.


“Quite a family history here then.” She said, in professed admiration, relaxing a little now.


“Aye...though as fer my mother’s family...that’s different.”


“Really?” By this time Ororo had become genuinely, if somewhat reluctantly interested.


“Her family were Romanian---going back over the centuries.”


“That would account for the name then.” Ororo said thoughtfully, remembering its convoluted sound but not what it was. Vamnicu Ralcea? Something like that.


He nodded, thin lips resembling a smile. “Yes---Ramnicu Valcea.” She almost had it. “That’s pure Romanian---but Branloch,” He gave a short laugh; a private joke he found amusing, “That would be my father’s legacy.”


“Of course,” Ororo said, turning to look at him now as she reached up and held a wave of wild hair from flying in her view; keeping her hand close to the side of her head with the lock lightly entwined through her fingers, “but how did your family come to gain the name of the village?---if you don’t mind me asking.” She added quickly, fearing that she may have been a little over presumptuous.


“No, not at all,” He waved a hand to dismiss any awkwardness. “My family have been the Lairds of these parts since settling here during the reign of Edward the Second. It’s a lot of history,” His head panned slowly to the left, until it fell, in its natural line, onto Ororo, “...a lot of blood too.”


“I can imagine.” She didn’t make any move to divert her gaze from his---the hold...ardent.


“Would you allow me tae show yae somethin’?” He asked unexpectedly, pulling Ororo back from wherever it was she’d just slipped to. It was only when he spoke that she had realised that she had been unabashedly staring at him.


“What?” Her voice held a mild uncertainty that she tried her best to disguise.


“Forgive me if yae think I’m being a might to forward,” He said apologetically, “It’s just there’s a beautiful spot not far from here---just between those two valley’s in fact.” he turned and pointed to a spot somewhere off to his right. Facing Ororo again he continued, “No’ many people get tae see it---it’s so secluded. It would be nice fer someone else tae see it again. Yae know, share it.”


“Well,” Ororo started with that same uncertainty, much more obvious this time despite her efforts to brush it off, “I shouldn’t really be too long---Logan was still sleeping when I left, he---.”


“Don’t worry about it, dear.” Branloch cut in, as if to appease her guilt at declining his offer. “Perhaps another time, maybe.”


As statements like that are designed to do, it made her think twice about her haste to reject his suggestion. This was their last full day here and she might not get the opportunity again to see whatever it was. After all, locals tended to be the ones who knew all the really amazing beauty spots that passers-by just never had the time or inclination to sniff out. The direction he was pointing in was back towards the cottage anyway, so why not take a ten minute diversion?


“Actually, I don’t know when I’ll be here again so, yes,” She smiled. “I’d love to see this spot.”


“Good.” Branloch nodded and then stepped aside in gentlemanly gesture for Ororo to go first; him following just half a step behind “Yae wonna regret it.”


* * *


Logan could feel the mild breeze flowing in from the window before he even opened his eyes. Slowly he did, letting the dull light flood his keen sight gradually as not to overwhelm it. There was a thick greyness that greeted him when he tipped his head back into the pillow to see outside; the white-washed window frame hanging half open, the glass reflecting the sky in a brighter hue. He let his head sink back down and groaned slightly in a half-sleeping manner, closing his eyes once more. Out cloud walking again he assumed. For a while he tried to get back to sleep but he knew it was folly to even try; once he was awake, he was awake. Not even a tranquiliser dart fit for rhino was going to put him back out.


With a half muttered grumble he threw the body warmed sheets back, exposing himself to the morning cold as he swung his legs down onto the floor. Lifting his arms up, he stretched the top half of his body out, yawning massively before getting up and heading to the window. Leaning on the dew-damp sill he peered out into the murky light. Now that he was up, he may as well make the most of it, he thought drably. The words ‘sore head’ and ‘bear’ had oft been applied to describe him at this time of the day. Physical exercise usually did the trick to shake him out of it. Maybe a short run would do it. He headed out of the room, pulling on his sweat pants and a T-shirt as he went; intending to grab something light to eat before he left. Perhaps he’d bump into Ororo on her way back he thought to himself absently as he jogged quickly down the old wooden stair case.


*


His old white T-shirt clung in various places where they sweat collected against his skin. Close to the top of his back, at the pits of his arms and across the broad expanse of his chest. He could feel the tense pressure in his calf muscles as ran up the hill; dodging a rock here, a tree root there. Skipping deftly over anything that got in his way, the heat swelled and the adrenaline ran through him like acid. But as he neared the summit a scent caught his attention, mingling with that of grass, heather and fresh highland water. Ororo was near by. Due north-west if his nose was right, as he tipped his head slightly, sniffing at the air. If he was right? He’d never known his nose to be wrong yet. He started running again, but veered off the course he was going along in a diagonal direction to his left.


The ground levelled off after a while, before sloping down again as the hills became tall, deep cervices at his sides. Her aroma became stronger as he went on as did the scent of water and its rushing sound. As he made his way further down the path he could have sworn he heard the whisper of voices, just faintly beneath the roar. But he didn’t stop to confirm them---he could tell she was close now, very close.


*


“Wow---it really is beautiful.” Ororo said with obvious awe as she gazed at the gushing waterfall; the white rapture of its water cascading down like gifts from the goddess. A light spray of water seemed to fill the small, secluded space that ice had carved millions of years ago. The dampness that hung in the atmosphere clung to the smooth rocks and pebbles like the moss and the aquatic plants, giving the whole place a sparkling feel.


“I used to come here a lot as a boy.” Branloch told her wistfully, “My secret little hiding place.”


Ororo nodded but said nothing as she kneeled down at the side of the small pool that the waterfall fed. Dipping her hand in, she allowed herself to experience the icy coolness of the liquid as it slipped between her fingers. “Is it safe to drink?” She asked quickly over her shoulder.


“Aye.” He replied as he watched her scoop up another pool to taste the cold clarity. “The cottage yae’re stayin’ in is named after this place---Darkness Falls.”


“Where did it get the name from?” She took another sip, then let her hand go loose, sprinkling down the leftover water in droplets back from where they came. When he didn’t answer her she started to repeat, “Where did---.” But she was stopped short when she turned half around to see nobody there.


“You talkin’ to yerself darlin’?” Logan said with an amused smile as he entered the small clearing. “Maybe all this seclusion isn’t such a good thing after all.”


“I---.” She stood up, absently drying her hand on her trousers with a more than slightly perplexed look on her face. “I was just---.” Her hand began to point in the direction where he had been standing, literally seconds ago. But it dropped limply back down as she looked back up to where Logan was stood and shook her head, distractedly adding, “It---it doesn’t matter.” Then she smiled, crossing her arms across her chest as she pulled her flowing white cardigan around her and made her way up to him. “Let’s get back.” She said as reached him and took his hand into hers and began to lead him away.


“Are you okay?” Logan asked as he looked down at her, thinking that she seemed a little...spaced out.


“Yes.”


“You sure?”


“Goddess yes!” She replied with mock annoyance and then laughed as they left the secluded nook, giving his slightly moist damp hand a short squeeze to assure him. But she couldn’t help but glance back at the place one last time, utterly confused and quite frankly, a little ‘creeped-out’ too. High above the morning gloom cleared and the sun just started to make its presence known.


* * *


Hours later...



Shirley swept the last of the dirt into a pile at the corner of the café, ready to be dust-panned up later. Leaning the stiff bristled broom against the counter, the blonde waitress took the soapy, greying dishcloth from next to it and started on the tables. Most of them were clear and only required the merest of skims with the hot cloth to rid them of the left over crumbs, spilt sugar and the circular tea and coffee stains that dotted the plastic tops like crop circles in cornfields. She came to the last table in the corner. Two white china cups rested inside one another, sat on its shaded surface, the light from the kitchen being the only illumination in the main area of the shop. She picked them up with a rattling sound, holding them aloft while she shimmied the now fairly dirty cloth across the smooth surface, absently wiping crumbs onto a floor she’d already swept.


But Shirley’s mind wasn’t with it right now. She’d been in a daze ever since yesterday, when the couple from New York had come in. She was thinking about them, up there, in that place by themselves. Try as she may not to, she simply couldn’t help it. If only she’d said something to them, warned them somehow, but what could she have said? They’d have thought her mad. Most of the people in the village were content to ignore it, pretend like it wasn’t happening. As long as they were left to live in peace then they would stand idly by. That was their unspoken bargain---to live in mutual pretence. A state of affairs that had gone on for time immemorial. But she had always found it that bit harder to accept than most.


As the young girl took one last swipe at the dirt on the table there came a soft click from behind her, barely audible but enough to tip her distracted nerves over the edge. She jumped with a harsh gasp escaping her lips, the two china cups in her hand toppling to the stone floor and shattering into a thousand tiny white shards.


“What in the blazes are up to now girl?!” An irate sounding Morag came storming out of the kitchen, a checked tea towel wiping away the suds from her work-coarse bony fingers.


“Sorry Morag luv,” A rumbling low male voice came from the doorway of the small café to answer in Shirley’s stead, “I think I startled the wee lass.” He admitted as he trouped over to the counter, taking off his flat cap and throwing it down on the surface. He climbed up onto a stool, flicking back his muddy dark green trench coat so that it draped over the back of the stool as he swung his hunting rifle off his shoulder and laid it carefully down next to his old worn cap. “Yae’re a wee bit jittery taenight, eh?”


“A�”aye Mr. Miller.” She said quietly, still feeling a little flustered. Quickly she went and retrieved the stiff bristled broom and began to gather up all the broken crockery; none of the pieces remaining large enough to be picked up by hand.


Morag came around the other side of the counter, her ever watchful eyes on the girl busying herself, trying to pretend not to notice that she was being watched. The dark haired woman folded her arms over her chest as she leant the small of her back against the hard curved rim of the counter, close to her husband. “She’s been like in a mouse in a cattery ever since yesterday---ay dunna know what’s gotten intae her.” Shirley’s jaw tightened, but she wasn’t facing her boss so she wouldn’t have seen the action as she began to push the brush against the floor that bit harder, taking more erratic swipes at the glittering pieces that carpeted the ground. Giving a short shake of her head and a silently exasperated sigh, Morag turned to her husband, “So what’ve yae got fer me then hen?”


“If yae get me a coffee woman, then mebbe I’ll give it tae yae.”


Morag laughed and gave him a playful slap on the arm as she started around the counter and flicked on the percolator that stood on the back shelf; a small red light lit up on the side as a sound like the distant roll of waves started to rise up. “Right, come on now Jude, hand it over.”


The brawny, rather unkempt looking man shook his head and gave his wife a grin as he reached into his trench coat and unhooked something from his shoulder. He pulled out, suspended on a joining length of rope, two rabbits; their black dead eyes round like shinning marbles. “Fresh---just an hour ago.” He announced as he handed them over to his wife.


Morag took them off him, turning them this way and then that in inspection; the only marks on the fine pair of tawny brown specimens the round dark holes on the leg and flank where the fatal bullets entered. “Aye---these’ll do, sure enough.” She carried them into the kitchen to hang them in the fridge until morning when she could skin and gut them. While she was in there, hanging them at the back of the industrial sized fridge she called back to him, “Where did yae get them?”


Jude was busy making a hand rolled cigarette; running a rough tongue along the transparent glue strip at the top of a Swan paper. Taking it away from his mouth, he concentrated on it intently as he rolled it between thick dirty hands, his brow furrowing. “Up at the Vetch.” He called back before popping the tightly rolled white paper in his mouth and striking up a match to light it.


Morag came back out from the kitchen, standing just in the doorway, her face holding a kind of frozen look to it in the phosphorus light. “Yae were on the Lairds land?”


“Aye.” He replied sternly as he exhaled a thick cloud up into the air.


“Jude,” She said with a hint of disbelief, “What’ve I said about paochin’ on his land? Do’yae want tae---.” She stopped suddenly as she heard a soft muttering coming from Shirley as she bent down and brushed up all the mess in the corner. “What was that?” She asked somewhat severely.


Shirley looked over at the other woman, her expression suddenly sheepish as she poured the broken cups and a days worth of mud and dust into a black bin. “I---I jus’ said that he’d be safe that’s all.”


“Oh really,” Morag placed her hands on her hips as she leant her body weight to one side, a haughty air about her, “An’ what would yae know about it, hen?”


Shirley shrugged as she tucked a flaxen lock behind her ear. “Nuthin’.” She mumbled as she picked up the broom again and brushed absently at the floor---anything to avoid facing Morag and Jude, whose incredibly light gaze she could feel on her too.


“That’s right---nuthin’.” The percolator began to bubble like a witch’s cauldron behind her.


“But,” Shirley said after a moment of silence, plucking up the courage, “They...he does tend t-tae leave locals alone.” She stuttered nervously. She was breaking the rules she knew. Nobody ever talked about it---not directly. “It’s only the---.”


“Only the what?” Jude cut in roughly, taking his cig out of his mouth and turning on his stool to face her fully; his cold eyes even colder.


“There’re people up there now---at that place...a couple.”


“So?” Morag asked curtly.


“Well,” The young girl shrugged again, feeling her cheeks on fire as heat rose in them, turning them a rosy pink. “Dae’y no’ think it’s unfair---tae let them stay there when we know---.”


“An’ what dae’y suppose we do lass?” Jude shouted angrily, “There’s nuthin’ we can dae an’ yae know it. Yae’re best tae leave well alone,” He turned back to the counter, away from her, leaning his elbows on it, his broad back hunched as he grumbled, “jus’ like everyone else.” Putting white paper to his lips he inhaled deeply.


Shirley felt hot tears pricking at her eyes; tears of frustration as well as fear. She sniffled, wiping her nose quickly with the back of her hand as she put the broom back against the wall and started to remove her piny. “Is it alright if I go?” She asked quietly, her head bowed as she screwed up the cotton piny and placed it on the edge of the counter.


“Aye.”


With a sullen silence, the young girl quickly grabbed her coat and bag from the hook next to the kitchen door. Pulling the heavy black corduroy on and slinging her bag over her head so that it lay diagonally across her body, she quickly left the café.



* * *


Ororo sat in the nook by the window behind the sofa, looking out at the view from the front of the cottage. Dreamily she gazed, absently turning the silver bracelet that hung from her slim wrist; around and around and around...


She didn’t notice Logan had come up behind her until his assured hands wrapped around her arms and his mouth touched to her cheek. “You okay darlin’?” Those tough hands slid down her arms as he enveloped her completely, strong, tender.


“Yes of course.” She bowed her head and planted a kiss upon his arm as it held her. “Why?”


“You jus’ seem---I dunno---a little out of sorts still. Like you’ve been in a dream world all day.”


Ororo said nothing, letting her head rest back against him as he nestled his chin onto her shoulder. She closed her eyes, let herself drift. Cascades of white water running swiftly to bubble and boil below. Cool swathes running over her palm like iced fire...


“Ro?”


“What?” She snapped a little harshly as she broke from the visions that swam through her head---the tone completely unlike her. Leaning forwards she broke from his arms and moved closer to the window, resting her elbows on the wide sill as she tucked her feet underneath her body.


“Hey beautiful,” Logan said with slight confusion in his voice as he moved to sit next to her on the window seat, “What’s the matter? This ain’t like you.” Nothing had been like her today---being absent-minded, distracted and now testy too.



“Look, I just have---a headache, that’s all.” It wasn’t exactly the truth, but her head had been feeling sort of...muggy, fuzzy all day now that she thought about it.


“You should have said somethin’.”


“It’s only a headache Logan.”


Logan looked over at her, about to say something and then thought better of it as he turned his gaze down to his hands, brought together just between his knees. But finally he turned back to her. “Has this got anythin’ t’ do with this mornin’?”


“What?” Her head veered quickly in his direction. “What do you mean?”


He furrowed his brow, “You were talkin’ t’ someone this mornin’---I know you were. I heard voices before I got to you, I’m sure of it. Two voices.”


“Well if you will go sneaking up on---.”


“I wasn’t sneakin’ up on anyone ‘Ro.” He interrupted, matching her for irritation. As she stood up and left the window seat, he asked again, “Who was it? Who were you talkin’ to?”


Ororo walked to the other side of the sofa and paced back and forth a few times but made sure that her back faced him. “It was nobody.” She found herself insisting but even as the words left her lips she was wondering why. Why couldn’t she just tell him? She’d done nothing wrong. The white water crashed.


“Yer lyin’ t’ me darlin’,” He got up from the window seat too and strode purposefully over to her; walking around the other side of her so that she had no choice but to face him. “I can smell it on you.” Like the sharp slam of a door, the realisation hit Logan full on. Scent. There had been nobodies scent but Ororo’s in that glen where the waterfall was. There had not been a secondary scent on her either; her hair, her clothes. When they’d spoken to him, yesterday evening, there had been no scent on him...at all. He’d been having difficulty pin-pointing what had made him so uneasy. Now that pin was well and truly pointed. “You were talkin’ t’ that guy weren’t you? That guy we met on the road from the village.”


“So what if I was?” She replied, incredulous. “Am I forbidden from conversing with other people---other men---unless you are with me?”



“No, I’m not sayin’ that at all.” He said as he crossed his arms over his chest in a defiant manner, practically talking through gritted teeth by now. “I just wanna know why you felt the need t’ lie. Why?”


Severe eyes held hers as the wind whipped. She was up on that hill again...“I...I don’t know.” She almost whispered; the muggy feeling in her head became worse as she brought her hand up to her forehead. It felt like her skull had been stuffed with cotton wool, unable to order her thoughts. All she did know was that she had to get out of here. A compulsion over took her---she had to leave this cottage or she’d retch, she felt certain. “I need some air.” Her voice quivered.


“What?”


“I said, I need some air---I’m going for a walk.” She went over to the coat and took her ankle-length cardigan from the rounded wooden hook.


“Fine.” Logan ground out as he watched her with dark, hard eyes pulling on her cardigan and scooping her hair out of the back of the collar. His short patience was shot.


Without further word, Ororo left the cottage as the dark clouds that had been present earlier in the day began to draw in once more. But they were accompanied by the bellied growl of distant thunder as the sun began to set, lost behind the peeking hills of Mt An Teallach...


-TBC-





You must login () to review.