"I need one now, you wretched man!"
The man pushed away, looked at the soldier, and walked off without looking back.
Commander Campbell thought about just shooting the man in the back, having bought another pistol in the last village as the witch had stolen his along with his horse. Several other men were staring at him almost daring him to do so.
"There's another village just down the road, maybe about another three mile or so. Ye might find one there," offered one of the villagers. They all turned away, too, and the commander stood there seething at their refusal to help him.
The soldier walked on, not knowing what else to do. When he came to a stream just out of town, he stopped and did what he could to clean his throat and used his handkerchief to bind it. Yelling as he had at the men in the village had caused the bleeding to start up again, and the pain was returning with a vengeance.
"That wolf will get his punishment also!" he yelled at the emptiness all around him. He was most unaccustomed to having others ignore him. He demanded those around him cater to his every whim, and thus he was groping for a way to deal with his present problem.
After walking another couple of miles, he came to a very small village, much smaller than the last one. There were only a few cottages, huts actually, with thatched roofs, and he stopped at the first one. He rapped harshly on the door and called out.
"Hey! Who lives here? I need some help!" Some minutes passed and he beat on the door again. Finally a voice answered his call.
"Who's there? I'm coming."
Eventually, an old, old woman opened the door and a fuzzy white cat, almost as old as the woman, darted out, startling Campbell. The old woman wore a full-length homespun dress that had seen better days, and her ragged shawl was pulled tightly around her thin shoulders. The soldier saw the old woman's eyes were clouded over with a fine sheath of tissue, obviously limiting her eyesight. Campbell took one look at the old woman and could tell she was not only old, but was probably feeble in mind as well. Just what he needed!
"I require a healer, old woman. Do you know where I might find one?" Campbell's bleeding was becoming more profuse, and he had only a small amount of henbane left in his jacket pocket. The medication helped greatly with the pain, so he must get more somewhere.
This old woman, even with very poor eyesight, could smell and feel Campbell's distress. She had treated many a soldier in her day and her nose, still quite adept at detecting odors, could smell the mixture of blood, and something else. She kept sniffing and then nodded to herself.
"Ah, henbane. The man smells of henbane — a very dangerous combination that is, blood and henbane," she spoke under her breath and nodded her head in the direction of the cat.
"Aye. I'm a healer. Ye've come to the right place." Commander Campbell pulled away from the old woman as she reached out her wrinkled, bony hand to touch his arm.
"Wait a minute, old woman. How do I know you can treat me? You're too old and almost blind. I don't think you'll be of much good to me." He pushed at her arms.
"Get your hands off me. I'll take my chances somewhere else." At that juncture, he stepped back, intent on moving on to the next village.
The old woman, stooped as she was, raised up as best she could and looked at him.
"I am, indeed, almost blind. But even a blind healer could tell what ails ye, young sir. Ye are bleeding from some wound that needs tending, and ye reek of henbane, probably what ye are using to control the pain. So, if ye wish me to help ye, then ye'll have to come inside here. There mostly likely will be another healer in the next village, but ye may not make it that far."
Campbell thought for a moment. His bleeding had soaked his uniform jacket already, and he was so tired. The henbane was no longer making the pain go away. Then, when sleeping, his dreams were disturbing. He couldn't make heads nor tails about them. In them, he was running and running, but his legs refused to move!
Ultimately, he decided that he had no choice. The blind old woman was probably right. It could be he might not make it to the next village. So, he let out a sigh and went inside her cottage, following her to a small room next to the kitchen. The room had no furnishings except for a small cot with a blanket on the foot of it. Next to the bed was a rectangular table that held a lighted candle. He sat down, waiting for her to begin whatever treatment she thought he needed. Shortly, however, he found he could not stay awake, and he fell over on the bed. Exhaustion had finally claimed him.
The old healer was actually glad to see him succumb to the tiredness; that, along with his bleeding and pain, had caused him to collapse on her bed, and now she could treat this man. As the healer was preparing her medications, the white cat came back in and jumped up on the bed, walking slowly around the soldier, sniffing him, then jumped back down and went over to where the old woman was stirring her ointments and herbs. The cat ribboned between the old woman's feet and rubbed up against her. They had been together a very long time. The old healer spoke as the cat walked between her legs again, and rubbed her face against her feet.
"Oh, aye, Regina, I know. He's indeed an evil one, but my heart will no allow me to refuse to treat him. But I can keep him quiet for a while. Something tells me he'll create disaster wherever he goes, so we'll detain him just a bit." The cat meowed and purred as if she agreed with the woman.
CHAPTER 27
Caitlin awoke from a night filled with dreams in which Uncle Wabi was a central character. Not surprising, she thought, as he was a key person in her life for as long as she could remember. Being a confirmed bachelor, he was always available to her for any purpose where she might have need of him. He taught her so many things. She hardly knew how she could have had such a full life without him. But why was she having these dreams of him now?
And, what was most on her mind as she lay there, not moving a muscle, was remembering the voice that was in the cave, trying to help her hide from Commander Campbell. She had heard the voice. It sounded like a person was right next to her — talking to her! It was almost like Uncle Wabi himself had been talking to her, but with an English accent. And, why had her scalp started to sting? And her hair had felt as if it was rising from her head! She had purposely put all these remembrances aside, which was something she had always been able to do, until now, when no one was chasing her, and she felt relatively safe.
"I didn't just imagine that voice, Willie. It was real! And it had a very British accent!" Willie was still lying at her feet, awaiting the minute when she would call him to get underway again.
"There was no one else in the cave. It was just me, by myself."
Then, she remembered something else. Just as she had looked up in the tree outside the cave, the great horned owl was there looking down at her, and then he flew into the cave.
Following that event, she started hearing the voice urging her to hide.
"Oh, Willie, what is happening to me?"
As she spoke, she stood up, stretching her arms above her head trying to straighten out the kinks from sleeping on the ground. As she stretched, she was greeted with a "hoo hoo" just above head. The owl looked down at the woman and decided he would give it one more try, talking to her that is. Wabi had told Owl he believed Caitlin would slowly begin to find her place in their special world, but it must be in her time, when she was ready. But, the owl was ready for Caitlin to exercise her talents, or at least be open to learning how.
"Well, my girl, it's about time you looked up here." The owl watched as Caitlin's head jerked up, then she turned her entire body around, reaching for her staff for protection.
"Willie!" she shouted, and the wolf stood at attention and waited for more instruction.
"Who said that? Where are you?" Caitlin could feel her heart racing and her knees were like quivering jelly, a feeling that she didn't care for.
The owl groaned inwardly.
"Oh, please calm down and follow your intuition. It will not lead you astray. Where do you think the voice is coming from?" asked th
e owl.
Caitlin looked at her wolf. He did not seem to be anxious, nor was he in his attack mode. Rather, he just seemed to be waiting for her to decide what to do. "So, if he's not uneasy, then why am I?" she asked herself.
Speaking loudly Caitlin demanded.
"Show yourself! Come out into the open where I can see you!" She still held the crooked staff, ready to swing it if she needed to. She remembered the thud it made when she had hit the commander on the head with it. It was a good weapon if you used it right. The owl then gently flew down to stand on the ground next to Willie, who paid him no mind whatsoever.
"I'm right here, standing next to Willie," said the owl.
Caitlin looked at Willie, seeing no one else, and Willie would always alert her if someone came near.
"Where? I don't see you. Come out!" she said, turning first one way, then the other, her eyes growing bigger.
The owl fluttered his large wings, trying to get her attention that way.
"Caitlin, I am right here, fluttering my wings at you!"
Caitlin remembered there were times she had sworn Uncle Wabi was talking to some of his dogs, but dismissed it as just some of his eccentric mannerisms. As she thought further, however, she could recall him "chatting" to himself, or so she had thought, when the geese flew by on a chilly morning. And, again, she had seen him caressing an eagle with a broken wing that he mended and murmuring to the bird. But each time, she just accepted that Uncle Wabi was different than most other men, and she liked that about him. But, now, as she looked into the owl's very large eyes, she found herself wishing Uncle Wabi were here with her. She was totally out of her depth and she knew it. Uncle Wabi had always told her that if nothing else seems possible, then you must consider the impossible. And she just new it was impossible for an owl to speak to her. But that was exactly what seemed to be happening to her. With her scalp stinging and her brain on fire, she could think of nothing to do but test her theory, hoping it to be wrong, for she really did not know how to handle this just yet.
"I'm going ask you once more to show yourself," said Caitlin, not knowing where to look for someone to appear.
"And I'm going to tell you once more that I am here, next to your friend, Willie, who certainly knows that I am here."
Caitlin looked at Willie and the owl. Both of them were looking up at her with large eyes.
"Owls don’t talk," she said, shaking her head from side to side.
"This one does, as you can see, if you WILL see," replied Owl.
Caitlin gasped and tried to retain her composure.
"Oh, Holy Rusephus! I must be so tired from traveling that I'm hallucinating!"
But, somewhere deep inside she was receiving confirmation of any number of unexplained happenings over the years, all having to do with Uncle Wabi. He was forever telling her to "be open to new experiences," and "you don't need to question everything you don't understand, just go with your intuition,," and endless more instances of the same nature.
One really telling experience was when she climbed out on a limb, high up in the hawthorn tree, to get a peek at the new sparrow hatchlings. The limb gave way and she screamed, then found herself falling. Suddenly, she felt as if arms had reached out there, cradling her, and she landed softly on a pile of leaves. But the tree limb had been very high up, and she should have been hurt; now she wondered.
"Uncle Wabi?" She knew very little about her ancestors, but there were many tales in her family's history of some family members who had been thought to be eccentric, even a couple who had been labeled witch or shaman. Both, of course, had only been healers, as Caitlin was, and Wabi was just another eccentric one. Hmm. Maybe those tales had been more than just folklore.
"Oh, Uncle Wabi. If only you were here!" She would ask him a thousand questions.
"Well, he is not here, but I am. So, let's get past this and figure out where to go from here."
That same clipped British accent again! Caitlin sat back down, breathing deeply, trying to stay calm and figure this out. She held her head between her hands.
"All right. All right. This owl can talk and Uncle Wabi is some sort of wizard or whatever, and he is my uncle, and he is most unusual, apparently." She felt like she had entered some sort of dream world and she would surely wake up any moment now.
"I would prefer you say he is very special, which he most definitely is," replied Owl, bristling at Caitlin's semi-derogatory remark regarding his master.
"Does Uncle Wabi talk to you, also?" she questioned.
"We have been conversing for many years, Caitlin. It is only you that have been slow to come to grips with your talents, given by the Creator, I might add."
"Talents given by the Creator, you mean some sort of Supreme Being?"
"If it suits you to call it that, then that will do. What term you use is not important, but that you have been selected by the Creator, that is what IS relevant."
"Selected. But why me? And for what purpose?"
"Ah. Some things even I do not understand, Caitlin. But as you accept these facts as truth, more will be explained to you, and your understanding will increase as your acceptance grows. Wabi would tell you 'patience, dear girl, patience'," replied Owl.
"Yes, that's exactly what he would say. But I need more than patience. I need Uncle Wabi to make some sense of this to me!"
"And he will, my dear, when the time is right. However, at this moment, you seem to be in the middle of a dangerous hornet's nest, and you should be making plans for what comes next. And now that you know I am here with you, mayhap you will rest just a bit easier. I cannot change the situation, but I can be of assistance in some unique ways if needed."
Not sure what else to do, Caitlin gathered her cloak and bags together and climbed back up on the horse. When she thought about it, she wondered that the horse was not alarmed either. Animals have their own alarm system, she decided. She had learned long ago to trust Willie's.
What had Alexander told her? "Travel north, past the Black Isle, then something about going over the Cromarty Firth and on past Dornock Firth," and "ask anyone, they will know where the MacKinnon lands start." Well, something like that anyway. So, she would head north, and would have to trust her intuition now as she had no way of finding him otherwise. But, Alex had seemed to think she would be safe there. It certainly sounded like a good place to get lost.
Caitlin and her horse had made friends, the horse most likely understanding very quickly this woman was a much more caring rider than his previous one. And, she was much lighter to carry also. Caitlin was ever so glad she had taken the horse. Of course, she was now a horse thief as well as a witch!
Still heading north, traveling to the Black Isle, she as exhausted, but tried to continue moving as long as there was light. She decided to not think any more abut the "talking owl," as she was having some difficulty digesting this strange phenomenon.
"Oh, Uncle Wabi, why didn't you tell me about this 'calling,' or whatever it is. Right now I could use some extra help from anyone or anything!"
She was aware the owl was flying above her head, keeping pace with her. She wasn't sure what help the bird could be, but obviously there were some things she knew nothing about, and this worried her to some degree. She had thought she was an intelligent, mature woman who had a good head on her shoulders. But, this latest development, talking birds, a Creator, and a tingling scalp. What did it all mean?
CHAPTER 28
Wabi walked along, deep in the woods, listening to the birds calling to one another. He was followed by his small, four-legged companion. Darkness was coming early, and he as he walked he liked the sound of leaves crunching under foot. His nose told him someone had built a bonfire and the scent of toasty leaves permeated the air. Wabi was talking to himself; actually he was talking to his latest trainee, a young Beagle pup who had the makings of a remarkable hunting dog. Beagles were not common here in Scotland, but the English had used them for many years. Wabi called his little friend Maximo, as he
as small, but had just the greatest attitude and already had shown a willingness to work hard.
"Maximo, your name is exactly right for you! I do believe you must be the finest Beagle I have ever had the pleasure of teaching. Why you'll run as long as I ask you to. And that fox you cornered yesterday! Why he was never so glad to get away from your ferocious bark!"
The pup looked up at Wabi, his tail curled over his back, his shoulders squared and he pranced even more than usual. Wabi laughed. Perhaps the little dog had understood everything he had said to him — and agreed with him.
The young pup was learning to obey hand signals and, even though he still broke a command occasionally, Wabi was pleased with his progress. As with people, size usually had little to do with ability, and this little pup was really coming along. The only thing Wabi didn't like about training the dogs was he always got attached to them, and of course, they moved on to their owners eventually. But, in his special way, Wabi communicated with all of them and that brought pleasure to him, and made them better companions for their masters.
The training was over for the day, and Wabi and Max were headed back to his cottage, both of them satisfied with their day's work. Wabi had been at this work for a lifetime and was proud of his abilities as a trainer.
As soon as the two got near the cottage, Wabi's nose picked up a most familiar and pleasing aroma. Shepherd's pie! Mrs. Favré, Aned, his nearest neighbor, was gracious enough that she brought one over about once a week and left it for him, or sometimes stayed and shared it with him. Mrs. Favré, a widow for some years now, was French and was quite a proficient cook. See, too, took pride in her endeavors. Not only was she a culinary expert, she was a very beautiful woman, even in her advanced years. Her silver hair and her ready smile went a long way to convincing you she was much more beautiful than she truly may have been, and she still dressed as she did when she lived in Paris. She and Wabi enjoyed each other's company, so they sometimes shared some of his mulberry wine and her delicious creations. Each preferred their own space, however, so they parted at the end of their evenings, and that was an arrangement that suited both.
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