Alis had run quite a distance, choking back her tears, refusing to cry like a baby as she headed deeper and deeper into the woods, darting among trees, watching where she placed her feet with care despite her quick pace.

It seemed second nature to do so.

Once again, she wondered about her background. Why did she know these things? Maybe she hadn’t lived in the woods for a short time. Maybe she had lived in the woods for years. Who knew?

The midday sun felt warm on her skin. She felt so lost; not physically, but emotionally. Alone once again.

She had grown comfortable in the company of Sarah and Heather Duncan, and even more so living with Maccay in his small house.

Yet all those pleasant memories had been dashed, literally stomped upon, when she had learned of Maccay’s true motive. The laird had put him up to it, encouraged him to live with her, to get close to her, and why?

The thought that she could be a spy seems ludicrous. If she were to spy on the Duncan clan, what had she been doing living in the woods? Had she lost her memory before going into the woods or after? What had caused those original injuries that Sarah had told her about? Who had beaten her and left her in the woods?

She had believed Maccay’s supposed friendship, his camaraderie… the fact that she allowed herself to even start growing fond of him, only to realize it was all nothing more than a ploy?

A myriad of emotions rage through her, not the least of which was anger. She felt a deep sense of betrayal and struggled to deal with the emotional turmoil that the truth had elicited. Disappointment, sadness, and a great sense of loss.

She had resolved herself to the idea that she might never regain her memory, never truly realize where she came from or where she belonged. With the amount of time that had passed with no word or rumors of anyone looking for her, she had accepted the fact that likely no one was.

She had felt so fortunate that people like the Duncans had taken her in, provided care of her, and given her a roof overhead and food to fill her belly.

Now? She felt like a fool. They had all fooled her.

Did everyone know about the laird’s suspicions? Did Heather and Sarah know that Phillip had instructed Maccay to watch her, to keep her under his eye? Did they also believe she was a spy? Had their pretense of friendship been nothing more than a lie as well? Had everyone lied to her?

Finally, exhausted, she found a place to sit and think, about midway up a tree and rock-studded slope, amid a cluster of boulders that jutted upward from a cluster of gnarled and ancient pine. Their aroma filled the air around her, providing her with a sense of familiarity and comfort as she contemplated her next course of action.

What could she do? Where could she go?

She muttered under her breath. It was obvious that she knew how to survive in the wild. She knew how to snare rabbits and hunt fish. She didn’t need Maccay or the laird’s protection to survive. She didn’t need any of them, and certainly not Maccay. She could do just fine on her own!

She didn’t know how long she sat there, alternating between angry fuming and tears ,before she heard the distant sound.

She wasn’t sure how she recognized it, but she knew it was a horse’s hoof brushing against a stone. She peered carefully through the trees, pressing her back against the rock behind her, deeper into the shadows, unmoving as she allowed only her eyes to gaze over the landscape below.

There, maybe a hundred yards distant, rounding the bottom of the slope and emerging into a small clearing, she saw a rider. While she couldn’t discern the features of that rider, she did recognize the horse.

It was Bruce, Maccay’s gelding.

Her first instinct was to stand and call out to him, but then she forced herself to remain still, once again anger coming to the fore. He didn’t want to find her for her safety’s sake. He wanted to find her for his, and for the laird’s. They couldn’t keep an eye on her if they couldn’t find her.

Once again, warm tears filled her eyes and blurred her vision but she blinked hard several times, didn’t dare move to brush them away. She remained still as stone as his horse moved across the small clearing and disappeared into the woods beyond. She watched the spot for what seemed forever, waiting for him to emerge, but he never did.

The fact that he was out looking for her… no, not for her. She had to keep reminding herself of that. He had his own ulterior motives for finding her and they likely had nothing to do with her personal safety but more to do with the laird’s suspicion.

Slowly, she relaxed and allowed her head to lean against the granite behind her. Forced to herself to contemplate the question. Was she a spy? No. She couldn’t, wouldn’t believe it. To what end?

She bent her knees and hugged them closer to her chest. If she didn’t move, she wouldn’t leave tracks. And when evening came? She had no flint or stone with which to start a fire. No cloak to ward off the evening chill. No knife, no food nor source of water nearby.

No matter. She could spend the night here and deal with those things tomorrow. Her confidence in her skills swelled. She could do it. She would. She would disappear back into the woods.

This time, she would be much more careful.

Maccay wouldn’t find her a second time.

* * *

Alis jolted awake, lifting her head from where her chin rested against her chest, all senses alert. Not sure what had woken her, she froze, eyes wide.

How could she have fallen asleep? She scolded herself and looked to the west. The sun headed toward the horizon. Should she stay here or move to find a better place to spend the night?

Searching the landscape sprawled out below, ears attuned to the sounds of the late afternoon, heading toward evening, the crickets off in the distance, and even further, the low croak of a frog. Come morning she would explore the source of that frog, because where there were frogs, there was a source of water.

A gentle breeze ruffled through the trees, nothing unusual, nothing out of place. What had startled her—

She smelled smoke.

Then a voice.

A voice so near that she felt the shiver of fear race down her spine.

Not Maccay’s voice.

She didn’t recognize it. It had a gravelly edge to it, like someone had just experienced a bate of coughing.

“I told you, we’re close.”

Another male answered. “When I get my hands on those two, they’re gonna be sorry.”

The voices came from the other side of the cluster of rocks behind her. Two men, perhaps more, likely sat hunched over a small fire. She on the south side, they on the north.

She didn’t move, hardly dared to blink, hardly even enough to breathe. It was so quiet she heard the dull crackle of wood.

The breeze blew from west to east, which was why she smelled the wood smoke so plainly. She sat downwind, lucky that neither they nor their horses would sense her presence. She remained perfectly still. How long had they been there? It couldn’t have been long or she would have woken before now, wouldn’t she?

To think she’d not only fallen asleep, but slept so heavily that she hadn’t heard horse nor man approach—or two men preparing a campfire—didn’t bode well. She could only blame that on her emotional exhaustion, the tears she had shed, the innate desire to block out unpleasant things in one’s life—

“I’m not sure this is a good idea. From what I hear, the Duncans are not a clan to be trifled with—”

“I’ll be taking back what’s mine, what they took from me. And you, as a duly official authority, will back me up, is that clear?”

“Patrick, I’m just warning you that my influence only goes so far, especially with these highlanders. There are wild bunch, every single one of them.”

Alis frowned.

Patrick.

Why did that name seem familiar?

“I have the law on my side and you know it. I know it. And I have no doubt in my mind that bastard, Phillip Duncan, knows it too.”

“What if—”

“No ifs about it!” The second man grumbled, followed by a loud, wet belch. “I’ll be taking back what’s mine, and that’s all there is to it.”

“But if Clyde doesn’t follow through with his promise to help, we’re going to find ourselves outnumbered, whether the law is on our side are not.”

Clyde.

Again, a hint of recognition.

“The McGregors hatred of the Duncan clan runs deep, and has for generations. Clyde won’t hesitate to take part in any plan to destroy the laird or his brother. These highland clans… it’s all they do. Feud and fight. It’s been going on for generations.”

What was this about? Who were they talking about? She heard the sound of sloshing.

“You might want to take it easy on that, Patrick. You need to have a clear head about you come morning—”

“You keep your nose where it belongs, Connor, and mind yer own business. It’s been a long day and a little bit o’ ale is not going to hurt nothing.” Another bit of sloshing, followed by another belch, and then a harsh laugh. “I can’t wait to see the look on Sarah’s face when she sees me,” he said. “Both of them. I can’t believe either one of them had the nerve to leave me… why, their mother is turning over in her grave as we speak.”

“You said they were kidnapped, Patrick.”

“What the hell do you think I meant?” Came the belligerent reply. “Of course, they were kidnapped! But it’s been a long while, over a year! Give me one good reason why me own daughters have made no effort to escape and come back to me, where they belong!”

And then Alis realized. Patrick. Sarah and Heather’s stepfather. She remembered Maccay briefly mentioning their history, even before she had inadvertently eavesdropped on Maccay’s supposedly private conversation with Phillip.

Sarah and Heather’s stepfather was here to take them back? How could he? He was just a man, accompanied by one other. But she didn’t know that for sure. They had mentioned the McGregors. An enemy clan by the sounds of it.

What should she do? She felt torn as anger surged within her again. Maybe it would serve them right. If Heather and Sarah had knowledge of what Phillip believed her capable of, that she was a spy, she should let them fend for themselves.

She didn’t want to get mixed up in all of this. Unfortunately, she already was.

And yet… and yet she couldn’t forget the fact that Sarah and Heather had taken care of her. Regardless of what they believed, they had been kind. Sarah’s ministrations of her injuries had been gentle. She was a healer. She had treated her with dignity and compassion. More than once Alis had seen the deep affection she shared for Phillip. She had seen the same between Heather and Jake. They were not being kept at Duncan manor against their will.

The thought of either woman being yanked from their home filled her with a sense of sadness. Nobody deserved that. Nobody deserved to be forced to stay where they were not wanted. Which only left her feeling more despondent. She fought those feelings back, not sure how to overcome them.

She had to stay focused, aware of her environment. If one of those men ventured behind the rocks, she would be discovered. She had to move, although doing so would be risky.

Peering around, she studied the placement of several of the larger rocks. Even if she moved very slowly, they might hear her clothing, or maybe even a footfall. But she couldn’t linger. Every moment she did increased the risk of discovery.

She couldn’t wait for them to fall asleep. They might not even make their night’s camp here. Maybe they had only stopped to rest. Perhaps they would continue on to the Duncan manor… and what about this Clyde? Were they to meet him here?

No, she couldn’t linger.

Ever so slowly, she shifted her position, placing her hands on the ground on either side of her body, and in slow increments lifted her feet from the ground and brought them closer to her torso. She would stand, and as quickly and quietly as possible, flee down the path she had already chosen.

If they did hear or see her, she would be in the woods before they could come after her. She would leap up and run and just hope for the best. She knew the way she had come up to this cluster of rocks, but of course she hadn’t memorized the placement of every shrub, every rock, every exposed tree root that could easily hamper her efforts or worse, injure her or leave her easy prey for those two men on the other side of the rocks.

She rose, resolved that she would go back to the manor house, warn the laird, and then leave again.

She wasn’t going to stay anywhere she was not welcome. She might not be welcome on Duncan lands, but she would help Sarah and Heather. She owed them that much. After that, she would eventually find someplace she would fit in.

Maybe her memory would come back one day, and maybe it wouldn’t. At the moment, it no longer mattered.

She was coming into her own as Alis.

Simply Alis.

No history, no future, at least that she could imagine at this point.

So, her heart pounding with anxiety, listening for the slightest sound that would indicate that the men had discovered her, she dashed away from the rocks, focusing on exactly where to place her feet as she scrambled along the slope, careful not to step on any fallen branch, no stone that might roll, nor brush up against shrubs as she swiftly headed downslope on the balls of her feet.

She held her breath, didn’t even dare to breathe until she disappeared into the shadows of the forest around her.

She would warn the laird.

Whether he believed her or not was up to him.

She didn’t much care.