Oak & Mistletoe

by McCauley, J. Z. N.

  Before sitting down this time, she noticed one or two people eyeing her torn clothes. This morning after a quick shower, she had realized the state her clothes were in. Other than a few holes, her jacket had held up. But the rest of her clothes needed desperate attention. Catherine didn’t want to give passersby reasons to remember her.

  “Is something wrong?” Bowen asked.

  Catherine sighed, “I need to buy new clothes.”

  Bowen looked her over curiously, “Do we have enough money for some?”

  “I think I can find something cheap,” she replied.

  They left shortly after, and Catherine felt victorious when she spotted a second-hand shop close by. She hurried in and purchased clothes to change into right after. Catherine was happy to be dressed in clean clothes again. Since the wind was extra chilly today, she splurged a little more to get a better jacket. Because she did, the shop owner threw in a free scarf. It was warm and soft as she looped it around her neck. Royal blue always looked nice on her.

  When Catherine returned to the car, the two continued on their quest to find the ruins of Bowen’s ancient druid home. A villager in one of the small towns they visited pointed them up the road. When they came to the place, it looked the same as any other small town they had passed through. They stopped at a small eatery that served pastries and coffee, to sit and survey the passersby.

  Catherine and Bowen found a table next to a large window that looked out on the village centre. Bowen pulled out her chair for her, and she nodded her thanks as she sat.

  “Where did you learn these manners?” she said suddenly.

  “I was not locked up in those caves, as you know. Do you think I was primitive before meeting you?” he scoffed.

  “No, that’s not what I meant at all. It’s just—it’s becoming old-fashioned to do things like open a door for a woman,” she blushed.

  Bowen shrugged and picked up a menu, “When chivalrous manners were a bigger part of society I thought it the right way to do things. It is one of the many downsides of the modern world now that it’s fading . . .” he sighed. “We wouldn’t even be in this situation if it were not for the modern world.”

  Catherine felt confused, “What are you talking about?”

  “Before, when I told you to leave Ireland, to avoid all of this. The curse would never have been broken,” he replied.

  “What does that have to do with the modern world?”

  “It’s a modern thing—a woman defying a man,” he said, gripping the menu.

  Catherine replied in a harsh whisper, “So you’re saying because you’re a man I should have automatically just listened to you, even though you’re a stranger?”

  “No, but I am saying in our situation it would have been better if you had listened to me!” He sat back in his chair and wavered, then continued softly, “However, I should have handled it differently. I was incredibly nervous,” he said, his green eyes burrowing towards her.

  Catherine’s temper cooled, and she just nodded in reply. They ordered shortly after that. Bowen finished first, so he took to peering out their window to examine the square.

  He stood. “Please stay here,” he smiled, charming as ever. That smile, mixed with the gorgeous brown curls and sparkling green eyes made Catherine agree without an explanation. She inwardly reproached herself immediately afterward.

  He left Catherine to enjoy her cup of coffee as he went to observe what he could. Their quest called for a certain amount of discretion. She watched him leave through the window, and observed him for as long as he was visible.

  As he disappeared around a corner, she imagined what it would be like to kiss him. She felt her face grow hot, and quickly covered her cheeks. Catherine wondered why she was attracted to him besides his looks. He was smart, charming, certainly strong and kind. All good things she liked in a man. But they argued more than she liked, though it was usually over her staying safe from harm. And she had to admit these clashes were part of the attraction. Perhaps because he was showing his strength, but he was also gentle. They had chemistry, that much was obvious. She wondered if it was obvious to everyone, or just her.

  She shook her head, then turned her thoughts to the ruins. How would they find the message? What if there wasn’t a message to find? She doubted there was anyone who would know, and they could hardly go around asking everyone in sight. It would make for very awkward conversation. Still she was excited to possibly find people who may have knowledge passed down over the centuries. From her studies at college and the museum that meant knowledge passed down from druids of the medieval times, not the original druids of two thousand years past. She found it a fascinating situation however terrifying the cause.

  Circling her forefinger on the rim of her coffee cup, she thought of a conversation she had with Bowen. He didn’t seem to want anything to do with magic, yet he was a druid. A healer in the druid community, but a druid still. From what she knew they studied for twenty years at least to become a druid of magic. Memorizing knowledge, no writings that they knew of. She wondered if Bowen would be open to telling her about it if she asked. Was he angry that his life was taken from him? Catherine couldn’t tell.

  Taking the last sip of her coffee, Catherine looked over to see a disheveled old woman eyeing her from a nearby table. Her hair was white and the waves were placed haphazardly around her head and hanging off her shoulders. She took in the woman’s appearance with a mildly surprised expression. Her clothes looked like they had been pulled out of a suitcase that was packed weeks before and left untouched until that day. Glancing up again, the old woman’s blue eyes startled Catherine with their intense color. Catherine politely nodded with a slight smile and went back to her coffee, pretending there was still some in her cup. She glanced back casually after a few moments to check, and was upset to find that the old woman hadn’t stopped staring. Uncomfortable and forgetting she agreed to stay put, Catherine left some money on the table and walked out. She had a bad feeling in her gut and wanted to find Bowen as soon as possible. She couldn’t see him anywhere. She walked through the village centre, intending to go to the end of the road ahead and turn back around.

  A wind rushed through and caught Catherine in the face with her scarf. Moving strands of her hair off her cheeks, she noticed some residue from a snack she’d eaten at the coffee shop hadn’t been wiped off entirely. Rummaging around in her jacket pockets without looking, she was in luck to find a napkin she’d stuffed there. She pulled it out and accidentally dropped it.

  “Ah!” she said as she turned half around, looking down, then stooping to pick it up.

  As she straightened up she stopped to see the same old woman from the shop standing a ways behind her. The old woman didn’t say anything, nor did her expression change. She just stared at Catherine as she had before. As if she wanted something. Catherine stood straight up and looked around her. There were a lot of people mulling about for a small town, even if it was the village centre. Still not seeing Bowen anywhere in sight frightened her, and heightened her fears. Sensing a possible trap, she trusted her instincts and turned to walk away at a quicker pace. Looking back, she saw the old lady was still following. Was the whole town following her too? She couldn’t tell. Towards the end of the string of buildings, many connected by layered stones, Catherine took off running. She quickly passed by the rest of the small shops.

  After a few minutes, she was clear of the town road and away from the hustle and bustle. The road became rugged, and woodsy brush surrounded it. On one side it was quite thickly wooded, and she could barely see through the trees from the road. It looked rather dark in between the sagging stems and brush. To her other side there were a few trees and brush sprinkled on the edge of a large green field. The sun wasn’t high in the sky yet. It was still early morning.

  Catherine noticed no one had followed her from town. She was alone. It didn’t occur to her to go back yet. Instead she continued strolling at a slow pace. As a child she remembered exploring like
this during her family visits to Ireland with her grandparents. She could revel in her imagination for hours. Kathleen went exploring with her sometimes, just for the company. Catherine always thought it was only because they were twins that Kathleen felt the need to do this sort of thing. She meant to ask her one day. Now she would never know.

  She pushed Kathleen out of her head and examined her surroundings. Realizing she had gone quite far, and knowing Bowen would wonder where she’d gone, she was just turning around to enjoy the walk back when something rustled in the trees ahead. Her body stiffened tightly. The sound was coming from the thick wood. The skin on top of her arms prickled. That familiar bad feeling was in the pit of her stomach, and fear crept up her back. She regretted leaving the cafe, and not heeding Bowen’s words more seriously. The rustle was now between her and the road that led back to town, to Bowen.

  Once again, Catherine wished she had a phone, and that Bowen had one as well. She stayed silent as thoughts whirled around in her mind. She thought if she made a run for it, whoever, or whatever would see her and chase her down. She kept her feet planted, steady on the ground and waited.

  The rustling sound finally broke through the mighty wooded wall, revealing a man stumbling slightly, then he stopped in the middle of the road. Catherine remained still as she beheld the figure. He was a large Viking-like man. He was wild looking, and his unruly hair was very noticeable. Probably as a result of the chaotic brush he just fought to reveal himself. His body was clad with what appeared to be bits of armor and old worn out cloth like Conall and his followers wore from the centuries of decaying in caves and tunnels.

  Seeing the giant man look at her with hunger in his eyes, Catherine could see that he was alone and happy to be so. It was clear she could not pass him safely. She felt her rising fear take hold as she stood. Her right foot made a small movement to step back, and he suddenly made for her like the wild animal she first imagined he was. She twisted in a running turn and fled. Managing to keep him far enough behind her at first, she felt exhausted rather quickly. Catherine realized she had forgotten that her endurance was next to nothing. Perhaps her time was actually up this time around.

  When she was not overrun, Catherine quickly realized her pursuer was no longer behind her. She glanced behind her to be sure. No one. She paused for a momentary breather. She could see the last remnants of the town ever so far away. Fighting her temptation to run back towards it, she flew off in a sprint again. This time she went up the slightly elevated ground and crossed over to the wide open land. She didn’t want to be on the road. Wherever the barbaric-looking man was, she knew he would look for her there first. She ran, panting wildly.

  Catherine looked around her every so often in panic. She wished Bowen was with her. Gasping to catch her breath, her lungs burned inside her body, and her heavy breath scraped against her throat. Her thirst was overwhelming, but she stayed focused. She stopped suddenly and realized, examining the view, that she was lost. She had no idea how or even if she could circle around to get herself back to town safely, regardless of the man chasing her. There wasn’t anywhere to hide either. So Catherine dropped to the ground and crawled. She crawled for what felt like too long. A sudden noise made her flinch and freeze where she was. She listened. Nothing now. Catherine still didn’t move.

  Suddenly the large man moved past at a speed like a wild beast from hell, quickly finding her groveling there. She popped up quick as a rabbit running from a farmer. This time she turned to face her attacker. Staring him down, she prepared to do whatever it took to survive as her adrenaline kicked in.

  He took a step forward. She took a step back. He laughed haughtily at this. They repeated this sequence once more. Then before Catherine knew it, he was charging her. She dodged the first attack. The second, she grabbed his arm and flipped him over using his large weight against him. She turned to run back the way he had come, blindly hoping it would lead her to town. But he had recovered from her defensive move too rapidly. As she was running, the large shadow of the man appeared and enveloped her again. He scooped her up with one colossal arm and swung her over his half armored body. She kicked and screamed at first, but no matter how hard she fought she couldn’t break free.

  Catherine hung from him uncomfortably as he walked with long legs and feet clearing a path wherever they went. The walk was tiresome in this position, but she didn’t try anything again for fear of being beaten or merely squeezed to unconsciousness. She tried to pay attention to where she was being taken, but it didn’t stick in her mind very well. Everything looked the same to her. The sky was getting darker from oncoming rain clouds, and she became more worried each passing minute that Bowen wouldn’t know what happened to her. At the very least, she was thankful she wasn’t hurt in any way during the attack by this wild Celt from two thousand years ago. Also thankful he didn’t kill her, at least not yet. There was still hope for rescue or escape.

  They entered through the edge of woods and throughout were scattered men and women. From their clothes alone, Catherine recognized them as the ancient followers. Most didn’t notice her, and she hoped her captor’s plans for her weren’t devastating. But her hope faded to the background when she was brought before Conall. She was practically dropped from the Viking’s shoulders on rough dirt scattered with small branches and the like.

  Conall said nothing at first, only offering a crazed smile by way of greeting. She knew if he wanted to kill her, she would suffer, and that frightened her more than death itself. Her mind was filled with too wild an imagination. She shivered involuntarily, and looked down. Catherine’s breath stopped as she watched his dirty and callused feet walking closer, one in front of the other. Her body cringed at his filthy appearance. Conall stood in front of her glaring down with eyes full of madness. He lifted her up off her feet, gripping her arms and clawing at the cloth of her jacket.

  “You’ve come to see me!” he said happily, though she still could not decipher his strange language. Setting her back down on her feet, he pushed her against a tree. She cried out as the sharp bark opened a painful gash across her back. She fell back gasping, the air gone from her lungs.

  She looked at him in surprise, then with horror. He was just too strong. Catherine let herself sink to the ground. She reached around behind her back hoping for a rock but found only dirt. Firmly held within, she rested her hand on the ground, waiting for the right moment, she hoped a chance would come. She noticed the back of her head felt damp. With her other hand, she reached back and felt the blood trickling down.

  Conall was strutting in front of Catherine now, his hands behind his back, neck outstretched as he looked upward. He wore a puzzled expression.

  “I knew I would see you again . . . and how is Bowen?” he said, practically giddy, his smile wide and frightening.

  Catherine understood Bowen’s name, “Leave him alone!” she cried out.

  Conall chuckled to himself and looked forlornly away. “He’s mine,” he said surprisingly calm, but clearly unstable. He twitched and looked back at her suddenly, “But I wonder why you care?” He watched her face closely.

  Conall could see Catherine’s eyes ablaze with hate and anger. He tried to intimidate her, but she locked her jaw tight and stared straight back. After a moment or two he smiled only slightly and backed away folding his arms across his broad chest.

  “Hmm . . .” Conall’s throat hummed deeply, growing fainter as he moved away. Catherine relaxed her hand and let the rough dirt fall.

  Conall looked to one of his men and gave him a signal for them to watch her. Catherine recognized him. He was one of the two men who had passed her at the edge of the woods when she was trying to rescue Kathleen. She didn’t make eye contact with him, but kept her eyes on Conall until he disappeared from view. Conall left her alone for a while, much to Catherine’s relief. She didn’t move from her spot, except to take painful breaths and watch the guard in the gloom. There was minor light from the small fire nearby. The shadows played with Catheri
ne’s imagination as she watched the reflected lights scatter in the darkening night.

  Many hours passed. The blood on her head wound seemed to have clotted rather quickly. She wasn’t drenched with it. Still, the gash stung terribly. She tried to think of the most immediate issue. Escape. She could still see other druids in the distance, and hear them behind her. They all wore grim or scornful expressions, and she wondered briefly why they would ever follow Conall, who was clearly a madman. A common purpose only goes so far.

  Soon Catherine began to feel ill, and she hunched against the bloodstained tree. An onset of vertigo came shortly after, probably brought on by being jostled so hard, or perhaps a concussion. Her vision was blurry and everything spun around her. Her eyes hurt, along with the pounding in her head. The pain in her back still ached, but it paled in comparison. After a while, Catherine lost all track of time. She couldn’t know if she had been there for hours, or all night. For a time, she thought she had fallen asleep, so it could have been another day entirely when she woke to see it still dark. The fire had been rekindled sometime in her unconscious state, making it brighter. Catherine’s vertigo was still there, but she could control her urge to throw up, and the pounding in her head wasn’t so bad now. Though, considering she had a head injury, she was thankful she did in fact wake up.

  Catherine’s lungs ached as she took a deep breath, and when she went to hold her chest to brace herself, a finger caught on her torn clothes. They were damaged from the coarse bark of the tree, and the Viking’s sharp armor. Her scarf was missing as well. She noticed the holes were only in the front and back of her clothes. She gave a quiet chuckle when she thought they still weren’t as torn as her last adventure’s clothes that now lay in a trash heap somewhere. Catherine didn’t like the recent pattern she was following of completely destroying her clothes.

  Suddenly, loud and chaotic hollering ensued somewhere far from where she sat against the tree. Catherine looked over at the watching guard, a different one than before. The first man’s face had been of mere dislike as he watched her, but now this guard held a concerned expression. She looked away from him to see if she could make out what was happening. A tall dark shadowy figure appeared in front of the fire. She jumped slightly and looked up.