“There ye are, lass. Sit up and drink this for me. Every bit. I know it tastes horrid, but ’twill help ye with that cough.”

Hands were on me, gently lifting me from where I lay on a thin, worn mattress in the middle of some obscure village in the middle of seventeenth century Scotland. So far, this century wasn’t treating me too kindly.

I knew I still had a fever. My vision was slightly blurry as I struggled to open my eyes, and I felt so weak I could barely hold up my head.

The man sitting next to me was new, but his eyes were kind and warm and his tone was so reassuring that I didn’t doubt his claims that the medicine would help. Shakily, I opened my mouth to accept the wooden cup he brought to my lips. The stench of the thick liquid nearly made me gag, but as I was already warned, I inhaled through my nose and swallowed every drop of the man’s potion.

“Thank…thank you.”

“No need, lass. ’Twill make ye sleepy. Doona fight it. I’ll be here when ye wake up. We will see how ye are feeling then.”

Whatever was in the concoction worked quickly, as my eyes were already drifting closed.

---

By the time I woke, it was morning. When I opened my eyes, I was no longer worried I would die. My fever had broken, and I was able to push myself up. Mr. Crinkles crawled up my legs to collapse in my lap and purr. He’d been worried. And so had my mother, if the tears running down her face were any indication. But instead of kissing me, she walked right over to the medicine man, threw her arms around him, and kissed his cheeks up and down.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you. Is she well? Will she live? I mean, I can see that she’s much better, but is she…is she out of the woods yet?”

My mom continued to ramble as the saintlike-in-his-patience man slowly peeled my mother off him and stepped closer to me.

“Ye needn’t thank me. I willna be able to tell ye anything until I’ve examined her more closely. Could ye all step outside a moment?”

Mom nodded and ushered everyone outside. I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen her move so quickly.

Once we were alone, the man walked over to the bed and gently laid one hand on my calf. “Can ye sit all the way up for me, lass? I need to see ye in better light.”

It took some effort, but I managed to prop myself up, slide my legs out, and sit on the bed’s edge mimicking him.

“What’s the verdict? I’ll live, right? I really do feel much better.”

He smiled, and it made his green eyes pop amongst his mass of already-graying hair. He looked so familiar and not in the sense that I’d seen someone that looked like him before. I had the overwhelming sense that I’d seen him before.

“Ye would’ve lived without my assistance, though I do believe ye shall heal more quickly now. Might I…” He hesitated and gently lifted his palms very close to my face.

I nodded. “Do whatever you need to. I’ve had my fair share of experience with doctors.”

“Doctors?”

I quickly corrected myself. “Healers.”

“Ah. Is that what Old Man Wilson told ye I was?” He moved his hands to either side of my face, gently cupping it as he lifted my chin and examined me. “They’re all so protective of me.”

I looked down at him as he lifted my chin. “Aren’t you?”

Rolling his hands forward, he moved my chin down so that I stared straight at him. He looked into my eyes for a minute as if he were looking for something within my pupils.

“Aye, I can be when ’tis necessary for me to be.”

I found the strange man intriguing. Other than his graying hair—although, even that suited him—he appeared quite young, but he didn’t come across as young in the way he spoke or carried himself. He reminded me of Laurel in that sense—a bit of an old soul in a young body.

“And what are you when it isn’t necessary for you to be a healer?”

He didn’t answer me. Instead, he dropped his hands from my face and nodded toward the elbow on my left arm. “How often does that burn hurt ye?”

I frowned suspiciously at him. I’d just been thinking to myself that it was aching again, but my arm was covered by my dress, and I didn’t think I’d held it funny or gestured to it in any way. How did he even know it was hurting me? And how on Earth did he know that it was one of the very few spots on my body where I’d actually been burned in the fire?

“Excuse me?”

“The burn, lass. It hurts ye, aye? I can help ye with that. Turn around and allow me to loosen yer gown so ye may pull yer arm through the top.”

I didn’t move. I just stared at him with shocked eyes.

“Wha…how did you?”

He quickly dismissed me as he reached behind and began to undo my laces.

“Doona worry. I doona mean to be forward. I just wish to examine the burn.”

It hadn’t even occurred to me that he had. I had a hoard of overbearing, worried companions right outside the door. Besides, he just didn’t seem the type.

“I’m not worried about that. How did you know there was a burn there?”

He gave me a stare that made it very clear he had no intention of answering my question as my gown loosened at the top and I pulled my arm through.

Once he held the arm, he moved his fingers to the wide burn that spread across the back of my arm. Gathering the seared flesh he pinched it so hard I nearly cried.

“Ow.” I jerked away from him. “What are you doing? That hurts.”

He gave one curt nod. “Aye, I know. Would ye rather a brief moment of pain now or longer moments of pain for the rest of yer life?”

I frowned and hesitantly offered him my arm. “I don’t see how pinching it is going to do anything.”

He grabbed onto the damaged skin once again. Although he didn’t let go, his eyes did soften when he saw that I was stifling a groan.

Eventually, the pain turned to warmth, and by the time he released my arm, it no longer ached at all.

I wanted to rub the spot, but since my lack of another hand prevented me from doing that, I simply twisted the arm around. I could feel nothing. It felt entirely normal.

“What did you do?”

He shook his head in another non-answer.

“I must go. I’ve already stayed longer than I said I would. Ye will live, lass. I see no more sickness inside ye, but ye shall be weak for a few days still. Ye shouldna spend much time out of doors for the next fortnight, or ye could risk falling ill again. ’Twas a pleasure to meet ye.”

I twisted my head in confusion as he neared the door.

“Did we actually meet? I don’t remember telling you my name.”

Just as his hand reached for the door, he twisted back and gave me a shy smile.

“Ye dinna, Kate. Good day to ye.”

He left without another word.