Prologue
He woke up at the tip of sunrise to head out for his first morning run in what seemed like too many years to remember. He felt like a new man with a fresh soul—a clean slate, with the whole wide world laid bare at his feet.
He jogged along the winding, narrow dirt track which led away from the cottage he'd been holed up in these past few days. He headed towards the main road which had brought him to this secluded wilderness-retreat in the first place, right in the heart of the Scottish Highlands.
Half a mile down the old, dirt track he decided to be spontaneous all of a sudden and take a different route. He looked around for a harder trail to test himself on. Eventually, his glance fell upon a high hill in the distance, with a single oak tree perched on top, well off the beaten track.
He ran across the new off-road path and then up the steep slope of the high hill. He was jogging intensely now with all his strength, stamina, and might, straight for the slight oak tree, sitting all by itself at the top. As he closed in on the peak, he began to run faster and faster, pushing himself harder and harder now more than his swiftly draining stamina had been strained since his army days.
Brutally exhausted he reached the topmost of the hill and somehow still managed to draw out a deeply hidden resource of energy to keep himself running, then sprinting, straight for the shabby, little tree, and then... past it. Past the baby oak and eventually coming to a gasping halt right on the hill’s scenic edge.
He took a few seconds to catch his breath. He thought about how unfit he'd become these past few years. With barely a mile into his first morning run in god-only-knew-how-long, he was already prepared to collapse into a crumpled heap of cramp and exhaustion upon the soft and luscious, green grass beneath his feet.
Then something caught his eye at the bottom of the hill. It took a few moments to steady his focus and realise just what the hell he was looking at. Unbelievable at first, but as real as the agonising and stinging stitches ripping apart his insides, he saw the body of a slim, dark-haired woman lying stretched out. The woman was either unconscious or dead as far as he could tell, but it was too hard to say which from such a great distance away.
“Jesus Christ,” he gasped, shocked at finding such a sight out in the middle of nowhere. It wasn't the first time in his life that he'd witnessed a dead body, but he can’t help being alarmed to see one out here in the middle of his highland retreat.
For a second he thought he might be imagining it all, which, taking into account all of his recent tragic and traumatic circumstances, would make a hell of a lot more sense than the brutally-real alternative. Was he just seeing some ghostly mirage down there? Was his tired mind playing some kind of sick and twisted trick on his weary eyes after everything he'd been through those past few days?
He took a few deep breaths to relax his anxious mind, but without taking his eyes away from the petite-framed girl way down below. Soon he was climbing, as quick as he could, down the side of the steep hillside.
Once at the bottom, he approached the young brunette and cautiously crouched down beside her. Gently, he ran his fingertips over her face and neck. She was as real as the mid-summer Scottish days were long, no doubt about that.
The mysterious woman looked young and pale. She was naturally pretty too and had that bonnie-girl-next-door look about her that really struck a chord in his heart. He checked her for any signs of movement or life. She had a pulse. It felt a little faint at first, but it definitely was there. Extremely weak, but still there was life in the young girl.
“Hello. Can you hear me? Hello?” he called to her, his tone desperate and full of panic. He put his ear up against her mouth before moving the side of his head down towards her chest.
It was unexpected, but she tilted her head to one side in a drowsy, half-conscious effort. She murmured something which he couldn't quite fully understand. He just felt relieved though that the pretty, young woman was still alive and kicking and gradually coming around.
“Hey there. What's your name? Can you tell me your name?” he asked.
The woman groaned in a groggy daze as she tried, but failed miserably, to raise one of her hands towards her thumping head.
“Are you in any kind of pain? Does it hurt anywhere?” he asked again.
“My head—my head hurts so much,” the woman moaned in a faint whisper, almost as quiet as a mouse.
“Look, I'm gonna try and pick you up and carry you back to my cottage. Is that okay?”
The woman gave out a tortured whimper, still drifting in and out of consciousness.
“I'll take that for an aye then,” he swiftly replied.
And with that, he lifted the young woman off of the soft ground with tender ease and carried her in his strong arms, all the way back to his cottage on the other side of the hill.