Anxiety coiled around Kara, holding her tightly in its grip as she made her way through the countryside on horseback along with Fiona and Luag. They’d spent the morning venturing to isolated farms in the countryside, inquiring about a Suibhne and Orla.

They’d come across three farms, and no one had heard of them. After the third farm, Kara began to fear she wouldn’t find her family after all, that the hands of fate were working against her, and what had happened in the past was impossible to prevent.

But that wasn’t the sole reason for her anxiety. She was worried about Ronan, fighting against Tarag and his men in the north. What if he fell in battle? Grief speared her chest at the thought, and she tightened her grip on the reins of her horse. Alice’s letter had mentioned no battle nor its outcome.

There’s still hope, Kara tried to reassure herself. For your family, and for Ronan.

She glanced over at Fiona, who was silent and pale. She’d tried to maintain an upbeat façade, but Kara knew she was worried about Eadan.

They approached yet another farm, and Kara braced herself for disappointment. There were only two other farms in the area after this one and then it would be time to give up her search.

I tried, Alice, Kara said silently, grief and regret surging through her. I tried to find them.

But she froze as a young woman exited the small cottage up ahead, clutching a bucket. She bore an eerie resemblance to a younger Alice—blond hair, fine features, green eyes. Kara’s heart picked up its pace and she allowed a sliver of hope to crawl through her. Could it be?

Kara dismounted, handing her reins to Luag and hurrying toward the woman.

“Orla?” Kara asked, her voice wavering.

The woman stopped, lowering the bucket to the ground and eyeing her with curiosity.

“Aye,” she replied, as Kara’s heart leapt into her throat. “Is there something I can help ye with?”

* * *

Kara sat opposite Orla and her husband Suibhne, a dark-haired man in his late twenties with kind eyes, trying not to show the level of her excitement. In the corner of the small cottage, Fiona sat opposite their two young daughters, speaking to them in quiet tones. Luag stood outside the cottage.

“Ye’re saying we’re in danger?” Suibhne asked, his brows knitted together in a frown.

Kara had told them the same story they'd used with the other farmers: the laird of Macleay Castle had sent his wife, her companion, and their trusted guard instead of a messenger as his men had been called north to fight. They'd warned them of a possible attack on their lands from a rival clan while the battle raged in the north, and the farmers should evacuate for their safety. With the other farmers, Luag had done most of the talking so as to not draw suspicion or distrust at Fiona and Kara's strange accents.

But this time, Kara did the talking. It was important to her that she deliver this news herself, accent be damned.

“Yes,” Kara said, trying to keep her voice steady, when she wanted to scream, I came from the future to save your lives.

“We just moved here days ago,” Orla said with a sigh. “We cannae afford tae move again.”

Kara stiffened with surprise. Not only had she not been looking in the right place for them, they hadn’t moved here yet. They must have just moved here before the fire that killed them—in the original time line. Not in this one, Kara thought with a rush of determination.

"You don't have to leave permanently. Just for a few days until the threat is over,” Kara said. "Is there somewhere you can go?"

“My cousin lives in Inverness,” Suibhne said, after a brief pause.

Inverness. That was where the other branch of her family lived, the branch that she descended from.

“Go there,” Kara urged. “I'll make sure the laird sends for you once it’s safe. You have my word."

She stiffened, nervous that they'd argue with her and refuse, but they gave her reluctant nods.

"If you don't mind, we'll wait while you pack. I can help," Kara offered. She wouldn't feel at ease until she saw them evacuate with her own two eyes.

“’Tis kind of ye tae offer, but we can pack our things. We donnae have much in the way of belongings,” Orla said, giving her a polite smile. As Suibhne rose, Orla lingered at the table. "Ye seem familiar. Do I ken ye somehow?"

I'm your distant cousin from the twenty-first century.

"No," Kara replied, smiling. "I'm from the south of England. I have a familiar face, I suppose."

Orla gave her one last look before turning to help Suibhne gather their things.

Kara and Fiona left the cottage, standing outside with Luag while Suibhne and Orla packed. She listened to the soft tone of Orla’s voice as she spoke to her daughters, the bell-like laughter of the two young girls.

Tears pricked at her eyes; tears of relief and gratitude. In another timeline, they would have died violently in a fire. Fiona seemed to sense Kara's undercurrent of emotions and reached out to grip her hand. Kara squeezed it, relieved that there was another time traveler in this time, someone who understood the implication of what was happening.

“The laird will make certain your farm is looked after while you’re gone,” Kara assured Suibhne and Orla, moments later, after they'd loaded their few belongings onto their wagon. They sat perched on the wagon with their horse, ready to go. “He'll send for you once it's safe."

Suibhne gave her a nod of gratitude, while Orla kept her eyes trained on Kara's as they rode away. Kara could tell that Orla somehow sensed they were linked. You have no idea, she thought.

"I did it, Alice," Kara whispered, as if her grandmother could hear her across the chasm of time. "We did it."

But the tension in her body lingered. Her family was safe, but Ronan’s fate remained uncertain.

They mounted their horses and made their way back to the castle. But as they made their way down the dirt road, Kara stiffened. She could smell acrid flames in the air, and alarm skittered through her.

Fire.