"Now there's a MacBean a' recognise." Erskine knelt to the floor, and, much like Rupert, hairy antlers retreated and hooves turned to hands. A man haggered by age stood to his feet. Time had not been kind to Erskine, greying his beard, balding his head and leathering his skin.

A wide grin grew on Rupert's face, "Erskine ye old bastard!" The two wrapped their arms around each other, in a strong embrace. "This is my friend, Firmin." He looked back at Firmin, causing his grin to invert with remorse. "Sorry I left ye pal. Went ahead tae check they were still settled on the East Kip side. Ran back as soon as the ladies telt me the lads were away tae check oan a stranger that was climin' the hill."

Firmin smiled despite himself, sighing at the relief of not having to fight ten territorial reindeer. Your timing could have been better though, Ru, he thought to himself. However, even with the cold biting and an empty stomach rumbling, he knew that he owed his life to the Scotsman; a bit of ill-timing could easily be forgiven.

The reindeer that attacked Firmin moments ago stood to its feet. Shaking itself off, it cast a malicous glare in his direction. "We gan to forget that this savage jist cut a piece o' my antler aff? Been growin' that since the last snows. The ladies were finally takin' notice oh me. Only fairs that I get tae bite one o' those fingers aff!"

"Fergus, enough! Yer antler will grow back, ye ken that. I doubt oor guests appendages would grow back in a hurry though."

Fergus snorted as Firmin clenched his fist, noticing the intent in the reindeer's stare. "Lucky oor Chief is in a good humour stranger. I'd sleep wee one eye open whilst ye visit these parts. I get affae hungry at night ye ken."

"Fergus!" Erskine drew the sword on his hip and thrust the hilt against Fergus' rear, sending the beast running. After taking a moment to ensure his Chieftain had returned up the hill, he nodded solemnly at Firmin. "Apolgies for earlier, it's nae very often we get a Sassenach wonderin' oor hills. Truly, a friend of Rupert's is welcome at oor table any time, even if ye do speak the same tongue as the Butcher King."

"Thank you," said Firmin, resheathing his sword. The swirling mists danced in the air, almost hypnotic as it moved around him; only the sharp grumble in his stomach gave him the alertness to fight the increasing weight of his flickering eyelids.

"Ach, nae worries." Replied Erskine. With his hand on Rupert's shoulder, he turned to walk up the hill. "McBeaths and MacBeans have always looked oot for one another, eh Ru?"

"Come on Erskine," said Rupert, coaxing the old Chief up the hill. "My pal has nae been blessed with a thick coat, nor the fat tae go along wee it! Let's reminisce aroon the fire!" He nodded to Firmin as they began to trudge up the steep incine.

The peak of Scalds Law would have provided a wonderful view. However, with the current weather, Firmin could barely see his hand in front of his face. Even if it had been the most lucid of evenings, Firmin would not have paid attention, his head fixed below him, looking for any signs of life; like a sentry peering through the battlement, scanning for any signs of the enemy. Through the thick fog, he could see the hazy glow of firelight as they descended off of the exposed peak to an area that was sheltered by an overarching rock. Finally. There was a yearning within him that continued to grow, not just for food and rest, but for peace. For safety. For her. It had felt like an eternity since he had marched North as the newly appointed Knight Commander of the imperial army. An eternity since he changed his fate forever when he chose to save Finn from the wolves jaws, and even longer since he had seen Barabel. He didn't even know if she was still alive, but every hardship he had endured was for her. For the chance to meet her again. To be happy once more.

Firmin sat alone on a boulder, perched in front of the fire with a bowl of hot soup. The woman who handed it to him spoke of mushrooms and herbs, but her accent was too thick, and Firmin's mind too vacant to pick up what she had said. Regardless of the dubious ingredients, Firmin enjoyed the feeling of warmth trickling down his throat and stoking the dying embers in his stomach. He slowly mixed the soup as he looked up to the celebration taking place; causing his face to light up for the first time in hours. Of course Rupert is in the centre of it all, he chuckled to himself.

A wooden instrument played merrily through the settlement as men, women and reindeer danced and drank into the night. Firmin had been offered a mug of the fermented berry drink, far too sweet, he thought as he took a sip. Nothing like the bitter taste of ale he had been accustomed to. Despite there being over one hundred inhabitants, the settlement was far too small to be considered a village. Earlier, Rupert had explained that the McBeath's moved up higher to escape the heat during the summer months. Then, during the harsh winter snows, seeked the protection of the evergreen trees at the base of the mountain.

The smoke from the fire billowed in the wind, rising and intertwining with the mists; becoming indistinguishable from them. Rupert emerged from the crowd and threw himself down next to Firmin, grunting as he landed. "So, what do ye think of my kin? Rowdy bunch eh?"

"Somehow, they're exactly as I imagined them Ru. Although, I never thought I'd meet someone covered in as much hair. Even the women here have better beards than you my friend!" The pair erupted in laughter, their drinks spilling to the floor as they buckled over.

"With comments like that, looks like ye won't be leaving with all yer fingers after all!" They continued to chuckle until the laughter faded away.

Rupert stared intently into the flickering flames, as though deep in thought. "Ye ken, we've never had a proper chat have we Firmin?"

Firmin turned from the fire, looking in Ru's direction. "I suppose not, friend." He turned back to the fire, staring into its flames like Rupert had moments ago. "Why are you here with me Ru? Why risk your life over and over for me? I just don't get it."

"I telt ye before, the MacBeans have always been close with the Lynx folk."

"Be honest with me Ru. Please. You let me hop on that cart of yours, and risked your neck long before you knew the child was Duncans."

"Aye, I ken." Ru sighed deeply, resting his elbows on his knees. "My wife wis a Sassenach. I always used to stop at a wee inn across the border, she wis a maid there, the prettiest thing ad' ever laid my eyes on. Back then there wis nae patrols of soldiers, and we hidnae even heard o' Athelstan's rule against us bein' wed. So we did. Took her back tae Bràigh Mhàrr and got the priest tae marry us. "

"What do you mean was?"

Firmin could see a few tears escape Rupert's eyes, shimmering in the firelight.

"Her name was Aurelia, but I called her Oràch, my little golden one. Taken fae me. And I wisnae there tae protect her." He began to sob quietly. "I wis oan my way back fae a lang trip wee a purse full o' coin. It wis my last trip away 'fore she was due tae give birth to oor first wee one.

Firmin moved closer to comfort Rupert. "I'm so sorry..."

"Found fit was left of her ootside oor hoose. Another Clan had raided the village fan I wis awa. Murdered most of the folks, my Oràch included. The wee one never got a chance at life..."

Tell my wife I love her. The words Rupert spoke on the boat across Queensferry rang clear in Firmin's mind; taking on a completely different meaning than when he had first heard them.

The music and chanting continued to fill the cold night air, but Firmin heard nothing but silence. He realised he was not the only one in pain. At least there was hope of seeing Barabel. Rupert would never get the chance to hold Aurelia again. Not in this life. For the second time in his existence, Firmin felt the soft sting of a tear trickle down his cheek. They sat and sipped the red liquid from their mugs until Rupert stirred, clearly wanting to say something.

"I picked ye up at that road-side because I saw the look in yer eye as ye held that that child. In that moment I knew ye'd do anything ti save him. I would trade my life ten times over to ken that someone like you was lookin' oot for my child. Even if that meant I wisnae there tae see it. If I'd only been hame sooner, maybe..." He cleared his throat, "but enough o' me. What aboot you Firmin?"

"About me? Barabel?"

"Nah, I ken all aboot Barabel, ye talk about her in yer sleep most of the time. Aye she's do leannan fer sure!"

"Do what?"

"Yer sweetheart, the one you love!"

He chuckled at Rupert's foreign tongue. "There's no doubt about that my friend. But, lets talk of me another time."

"Hoho, we're some pair eh?" Rupert stood to his feet, inhaling a deep breath of the night air. "Best we head in for the night pal. A big day ahead o' us."

"Indeed." Firmin stood with Rupert, exchanging one last look of solidarity.

Firmin retired for the evening, but found sleep elusive. Impossible. How could I sleep considering the circumstances. He thought of those care-free mornings spent with Barabel, finding any excuse to keep her near him. Life's colorful vigour had not returned since the day he had last seen her at Carlyle Castle. Tomorrow, I will save you Barabel.