Back in the sacred grove in the first century A.D. — which time Deirdre could scarcely believe she now occupied, it being her very first time-travel mission — she spoke to the druids in sotto-voice Pictish, thankful that Alasdair’s time travel spell had included this language that he said had been lost to everyone but the druids.

"Why do you burden me with this fool? You know I don’t need him. I can be quieter by myself. I can be faster by myself. And I even dare say if it comes down to a fight, I can fight better by myself."

Boann put her hands on her hips and looked down her nose at Deirdre, then point blank at Galdus.

“Oh, but you wouldn’t be alone at all, now would you? It isn’t you who can fight so well or be so fast or quiet at all. It isn’t you who are the druid. The people may not be able to tell, but we can, and don’t you forget it. We don’t know you. We don’t trust you. We have known Talorac all of his eighteen years, and him we do trust. He is along to keep you honest. To make certain you carry forth the best interests of all our clans and don’t go over to the Gaelic side. You’re dressed in the Gaelic fashion, even if it is much advanced in time from what the current Gaels wear. It certainly is not the clothing of our people."

Deirdre suppressed a giggle. This fool was going to keep her honest?! No matter, she would lose him at her first opportunity on the way there, do what she needed to do, then find him again on the way back. Without breaking a sweat.

Of course, she didn't tell Boann that.

"Very well," she told the older druid woman with a heavy sigh. "I'll take him along with me and let him keep me honest as to the benefits of this clan you serve. Bring me the smith I requested so I can get going."

Boann raised her eyebrows.

“Tal IS the smith you requested.”

* * *

Tal was shaken out of his examination of the beautiful stranger when Deoord spoke to him.

“This is Deirdre, and as soon as you are ready, she will perform the woad ritual on you for your protection during the journey."

How odd. Despite a lifetime of doing what druids said and submitting to their ministrations unquestioningly, a million objections came to Tal's mind at the idea of Deirdre woading him.

She was a stranger! He didn't want to be naked in front of her, not as a warrior standing before a druid. Oh, he wanted other things, but not that.

But she was a druid, and so stripping his clothes off, he very casually walked over into the center of the grove where the four druids stood, holding himself erect in the warrior's stance, ready, on guard, able.

"I'm ready now."

Deirdre dipped her hand into a pot of goose grease colored indigo blue with the dried leaves of the woad plant while she chanted an incantation that placed protection in the paint, then made a move as if to put the woad on him, and he felt his flesh quiver in delight at the anticipation of her touch.

But Ia stayed Deirdre's hand and did the honors that she often had before, among other things. Of late, Tal had needed to go along on all of Breth’s skirmishes and had needed much woading.

As Ia enchanted the woad with protective properties, Tal spoke his reservations about the journey.

“If a warrior is what you need to send with her, then shouldn't you send Lossio or Ungust? They could certainly do a better job protecting her."

He felt awkward, being so attracted to Deirdre in front of Ia, and knowing Deirdre was here today, gone tomorrow, he was trying to keep his options open with Ia.

Besides, he’d seen the way Deirdre looked at him. If she considered him incompetent, then why did she want him along?

But Deirdre didn't take the hint. Holding her quarterstaff at the ready and putting her chin up in the epitome of a warrior stance, she defied what he said.

"I would do better by myself. I suspect the only reason you're coming along is to keep an eye on me."

Deoord set his chin in a way that demanded everyone's attention, him being the senior druid present.

“Enough of this posturing. We need to send you off now. You may not be the best of friends, but find a way to get along. You'll be happier for it."

With an oddly amused gleam in his eye, the older druid stared them both down until they had no choice but to grudgingly look at each other and nod.

"Good. Deirdre, now it's your turn. Allow me to woad you."

Tal had seen half the women in the ten clans having the woad applied to them. Seeing Deirdre naked and being painted with the woad and goose grease designs shouldn't have roused Tal’s interest at all.

But it did.

He couldn't help staring at her breasts as they were decorated with the whorls of smoke that came off the fire that was depicted on her belly. Couldn't help staring at her groin as it was festooned with a pair of falcons fighting over worms in the wood that burned up in the fire.

When she turned around and had her backside painted, he caught himself drooling as her firm and curvy bottom was painted in the likeness of a wolf's head.

Quit looking, you fool. Good thing we’ll need the protection of the woad. Being on guard for danger should keep you from touching her. And getting burned.

But no matter what he told himself about it being in his best interest not to notice Deirdre as a woman, he nonetheless was doing just that. What a fix he was in.

Under the pretense of needing to relieve himself in one way, he went off into the bushes and relieved himself quite another way, desperate not to be caught yearning for her as he did. At least in his baggy breeks he could have adjusted things so as not to be so obvious.

"You know what?" Tal said to no one in particular when he made his way back to the four druids. "I'm going to go ahead and wear my breeks on the journey. I know it's not normal and not needed, but… Well, I'm going to anyway. It’s just my preference."

No one said anything, but he could've sworn he saw the corners of a few mouths smile before they schooled their expressions.

For once, he was not looking at Deirdre. He didn't want to know if she was smiling or not. No, he didn't want to know anything about her at all. The sooner this time with her was over and they went their separate ways, the better. For all involved. How was he going to manage under these awful conditions?

Tal fumed as he headed back to the bonfire to say goodbye to his brother and Jaelle. Obeying this particular druid chafed his hide for some reason, so on top of his discomfort at being aroused against his will, he felt guilty for wanting to disobey someone in authority.

"This way," she said, slinging her pack over her shoulder and trying to steer him west.

To his horror, Tal felt humiliation at being led by a strange girl no older than him. He had no inclination at all to follow Deirdre’s lead, as he would have with any other druid, both those of his own clan and those of the other clans.

Watch yourself, Tal.

Biting off the rude comment that came to his tongue and would have gotten him in trouble, Tal instead groveled a bit as would be expected of anyone gainsaying a druid. And he hated every moment with astonishing passion. What was wrong with him?

"Sorry, may I first say farewell to my brother?"

Deirdre didn't quite roll her eyes, but she did smirk at him and raise an ironic eyebrow.

"Fine, let's go say farewell to your brother, but then we’re leaving. No more dilly dallying about. As you know, our woad protection will only last two days."

Tal made his way to where his brother stood next to his wife's chair. Heavy with child, Jaelle sat a lot these days, and just a tiny bit of Tal’s mind wondered how she was liking that, being a warrior herself. She was from the future and knew many surprising sword moves, and until a few months ago she had been up on her feet teaching all the warriors these moves and supervising their practice in the lists. Did she miss it?

But now wasn't the time to speak of such things. No, now was the time to beg Breth to let him out of this mission the druids were sending him on.

Tal spoke softly into his brother’s ear while someone else was addressing the crowd.

"The druids are sending me to the Gaels with Deirdre here. It's a scouting mission, and they say that although she could do it all by herself, they’re sending me along to protect clan interests. I really don't think I need to go. She seems competent enough. Let’s just let her handle it."

Was that a smile Breth was suppressing? No, it was an itch. He was just scratching the corner of his mouth now.

"What's the matter, Tal? Is she more than you can handle?"

So it had been a smile.

"I don't want to handle her—"

The girl in question guffawed, then listened intently as Breth droned on about the need to join forces with the Gaels against the Roman barbarians and their wall. Several times she seemed on the verge of breaking in with her own suggestions, meddling twit that she…

Tal’s breath caught in his throat at the blasphemous thought. What in the world had come over him? Deirdre was a druid, and it was her job to moderate these discussions.

Maybe it was because she was just so gorgeous, it was hard to remember she was a druid?

Why couldn’t she just be a normal girl? A gatherer — no, Morna was the lead gatherer now that Breth had shunned her for Jaelle, and if Deirdre fell under Morna's influence? He shied away from just how unpleasant that would be, yet shuddered anyway.

Why couldn't Deirdre be a weaver or a net maker or a seamstress, any sort of craftswoman rather than a druid?

Breth was still speaking, and something he said brought Tal back to the moment.

"Oh, I can tell by the way you look at her that you do indeed wish to handle her."

Tal took several deep breaths and held the last one until he was calm. It wouldn't do for him to get in a fight with Breth.

But his brother relaxed his defensive fighting position.

"You represent me on this trip. If the opportunity arises to make a pact, then take it, but you will have succeeded if you just introduce the idea. Understand?"

Tal looked longingly at the chisel his brother held idly in his hand, wanting to make more. But Breth wouldn’t understand that, so he appealed in another direction.

"Yeah, I understand all right. You get to stay here and enjoy the company of your wife and our parents and everyone we hold dear and I have to go off with this… stranger and try to make peace where there isn't any. You definitely drew the longer end of the stick."

"I know, and someday I'll try to make it up to you.”

Jaelle leaned over behind her husband to speak with Tal, and for once her voice wasn't too loud.

"We're not asking you to marry the girl, Tal. Just go with her and find out what you can about whether the Gaels are open to a treaty with the people or not. You’ve been looking for an excuse to get away ever since Breth became head chieftain. Now's your chance. Don't waste it."

Tal smiled at his sister-in-law. She always spoke her mind, and he liked that. It was easy to trust her, knowing exactly what she was thinking.

"Well, I suppose I can stand to go."

Breth beamed a smile at both of them.

“Thank you."

Tal clasped forearms with his brother.

“I’m not going to say you're welcome, but yes I'll do this. I don't really have a choice, do I?"

"You always have a choice. In fact, I understand better and better the choice Drest’s former men made when they went off on their own. I'm coming to understand them, and in the years to come, I think more and more of us will also come to understand them."

Tal let go of his brother’s arm, but held his gaze.

"Don't get soft on me, Breth."

Breth raised his eyebrows at Tal’s unnecessary wearing of the baggy knee-length trousers Picts are noted for in Roman writings.

"We have quite a few years until that happens, rest assured. But we need you even now, you know. Don't do anything stupid while you're gone. Come back in one piece. And if you have to bring the girl back here in order to do that…"

Tal laughed and gave his brother a punch in the upper arm.

“For the land's sake. I'll do it, but just because you say so."

Breth gave him an arm punch back, again careful not to smear the woad.

Jaelle reached out her hand from where she sat.

Tal gave it a squeeze, and then he turned toward Deirdre, who was obviously waiting for Breth to quit speaking so that she could jump in and boss everyone around. Ha, well here's one pleasure he could take. He could steal that opportunity from her without seeming disobedient.

"Come on, Deirdre. The woad will only last two days. We need to get going. This way."

* * *

Deirdre tried to stay ahead of Talorac, asserting her role as leader and telling him in no uncertain terms that she really didn't have any interest in his conversation. But two things conspired to make her drop this strategy.

Number one, she could feel him staring at her naked woad-painted butt. And while she didn't fear him at all, nevertheless… it was a bit difficult to hold one's head up and be a stoic leader under those circumstances—

“A dozen bloodthirsty barbarians approach from the south!” Galdus cautioned Deirdre in her mind. “More lurk immediately west. Take this next canyon north before you head west, and you will avoid them if you hurry.”

Deirdre struck a sudden listening pose for a moment with her chin on top of her staff and pretended to hear the barbarians with her own ears.

“We need to turn north up this canyon,” she huffed aloud to Tal even as she resumed running. “We’re being followed from the south. A dozen Romans, from the sound of them.”

But the fool man kept going west.

“Nah, they’ll expect that. We’ll go down the stream in the canyon so they lose our tracks and then continue west.”

She grabbed his hand and tried to pull him north up the canyon.

“No! There are more waiting for us to the west! We need to go this way! Quick!”

Talorac pulled his hand away and resolutely splashed down the stream.

“You know what? You may need me, but I can do what I need to do on this trip without you. Fare well.”

Deirdre cursed.

Both Talorac and Galdus laughed at her, and then Galdus hissed a warning in her mind.

“He’s headed right for the barbarians to the west. There are too many. He’ll be captured. Or killed.”

Splashing down the creek and then up the rocky west bank after Talorac, Deirdre pleaded with the druidic spirit inside her dagger.

“He’s woaded, though. Can’t you hide him from them?”

“Only if you’re touching him.”

She cursed again and pushed herself to run her fastest up the hill, where she could see branches moving in evidence of Talorac’s passing by.

“Why didn’t you tell me that before!”

* * *

Tal wondered at the sound of Deirdre huffing up the hill behind him through the trees until the first Roman broke through the trees ahead of him and their swords were clashing.

The Roman was a good fighter, and Tal could hear half a dozen more behind the man, going left and right so as to surround Tal.

He cursed.

Deirdre would run right into them!

Tal backed away down the hill toward the girl. Land’s sake, why had he been so stubborn? Now the barbarians were on higher ground. They had easy downward swings at him, while he had to swing upward at them. Not an easy way to fight one man, let alone six.

And then he heard her voice directly down below him and looked down to his left to see the hole where a tree's roots had been, before it had been knocked over by the strong winds that had passed through last year.

“Jump! Jump down here!”

Her voice was coming from the hole, but he didn’t see her. Still, he didn’t have much choice. It was either jump into whatever cover she’d found and hope the barbarians didn’t follow, or fight half a dozen of them from the low ground.

He jumped.

As soon as he landed, she grabbed him and tried to pull him closer in under the tree.

He fought against her at first. There was no escape that way! He would be trapped!

“Stop!” she hissed at him. “I can hide you! Be quiet and still, and they’ll run right on by!”

If she hadn’t predicted these men would be here and warned him not to go this way… But she had, and so much as he hated doing so, he did as she said. This time.

* * *

The second reason Deirdre gave up trying to stay ahead and aloof?

She was simply too gregarious a person to pull it off. She tried, but it just wasn't in her nature. And so after they had walked a ways from the tree-root hole, she paused for a moment and looked back at him, waiting for him to catch up and speaking to him in a tone that was at least conversational, if not exactly friendly.

Unfortunately, while trying to give him an opportunity to discuss what he loved doing, she chose a subject that was a little too offending to him.

"So you say you're not much of a warrior, then what is your calling?"

As he caught up to her, his handsome face showed resentment.

It was tempting to laugh at his expense and point her finger and bend over holding her stomach in amusement, but she resisted the urge. After all, the whole point of speaking to him was to have him speak to her in turn.