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Invercharing Community, 2063
Siobhan snuck the long way around to the stables, avoiding most people. The percussive clang of the smithy’s mallet rang out from his forge and reverberated across the yard between the stables and the other animal shelters. He pounded out horseshoes, his attention focused on his task. Horses thundered out of the stable and Siobhan tucked herself against a wall and hid behind a post.
Damn. Rory and the other militia members on the Chief Council had found out about the bandits without her passing on Kendra’s message.
“Micah,” Rory shouted. Siobhan’s heart hammered at the sound of her husband’s voice. “Ask someone to let Siobhan know where I’ve gone. We’ll meet you and your men there, aye?”
Boy cantered past with Rory astride, his rifle hanging over his shoulder and magazines of ammunition protruding from the top of his saddlebags. Xian followed close, Katana in its sheath strung across his back, as always.
Siobhan stepped from behind the post. Micah, now alone in the deserted yard, marched across to the stables, his hand shielding his eyes from the afternoon sunlight.
“Siobhan.” He stopped dead. “I guess you heard...What’re you doing?”
Siobhan didn’t answer.
“Why the bags?” Micah strode forward, his loose dreads hung over his shoulders, and his suntanned forehead was a mass of crinkles. “Where’re you goin’?”
Siobhan stood. Decision time. She required an ally and Micah always seemed keen to please.
“I need your help, Micah.” Siobhan walked the few paces across the empty yard to where the ex-bandit stood.
“Oh, no, no, no.” He held up his hands, palms outward. “I know you guys aren’t happy, but don’t get me involved.”
“Please, take me to the Bunker.”
“No, ma’am.” Micah’s dreads vibrated with the tremor of his head shake. “I’ll no’ do that to a man who has given me a chance.”
“Escort me to the Bunker and I will ensure your father gets a private interview with the Prime Minister.” Her old authoritative tone returned.
The trembling dreads ceased their motion. Micah’s ribcage rose and fell.
“Okay. You be ready in five. I’ve gotta organise my men for this bandit chase Rory’s on.” His glare bore into her. “What about your son?”
“Jake’s coming too.”
“You’re gonna kill him, ya ken that?”
“I can take care of my child.”
Micah’s dreads vibrated again. “No, ma’am, I mean Rory.”
“You will be my escort, not my counsellor!” Siobhan ground out, as the white heat flashed again within her.
“Okay, okay. Five minutes, back here,” he said, pointing to the ground at his feet with his index finger.
“If you tell anyone—”
“No, ma’am. I wouldn’t dare.”
“Take these while I get Jake.” Siobhan thrust the duffle bags at Micah and strode to the building that housed the nursery.
Taking deep breaths, trusting it would assist a calm appearance, she stepped to the nursery, paused before entering and smoothed down her jumper and cargo pants. Jake was inside, bashing a toy xylophone, its tuneless metallic clang resounding with every thump of the mallet her baby held. A smile filled his face and pure delight oozed from him.
“Just getting Jake,” she said to the women on duty. She picked up her little boy and dressed him in his jacket then grabbed his bag. “Say bye-bye.”
Jake waved at the women as she whisked him out the door.
Micah waited by two saddled horses, one loaded with her duffle bags.
“The guards will wonder what’s goin’ on if you ride outta here all kitted up.” Micah raised his brows briefly.
“Oh.” Siobhan chewed her lower lip.
“You go out the back. I’ll ride out the front.” Micah tilted his head down, his dreads now secured in a tie. “The guards’ll think I’m taking supplies to Rory, or somethin’,” he whispered. “I’ll meet you round by the hills at the rear of the compound, and we’ll cut across and down. Long way around, but if you want out, that’s the way, yeah?”
She lifted her chin in assent then grabbed her jacket from her saddlebags and put it on. Micah mounted and left trailing her loaded horse.
Siobhan informed the single guard at the small back gate of the compound that she was taking a stroll up the hill behind the glen. Siobhan rested Jake on her hip, and he looked around at the trees and sky. He was so bright. Her eyes pricked with forming tears. Whatever had gone wrong with her and Rory, at least she’d have this beautiful blond, curly-haired boy. Her throat tightened for, apart from hair colour, he was so much like his father.
Siobhan climbed the steep incline and puffed; her arms were tight from holding Jake, and her leg muscles burned. The cool breeze brought a moisture with it. She turned for the last glance at the narrow glen, home to the Invercharing Community. White mist crept over the hills and hugged the surrounding mountains. She pulled up Jake’s hood and clutched him tighter. She continued along the lower edge of the hill and followed an overgrown track that circuited the very edge of the Community’s boundary. Micah sat waiting on his horse by a copse of rowan nestled in a dip between the hills.
Micah slipped off his mount and led her horse forward. He held Jake while she mounted, then passed him up to her.
“You know we’ll be camping tonight.” He remounted and nudged his horse to a walk ahead of hers. “I don’t see any bedroll or cooking gear in your stuff.”
Siobhan’s shoulders drooped. In her feverish desire to leave, she hadn’t suitably prepared for their journey.
“Just as well I grabbed some things, hey?”
“Thank you, Micah,” she said to Micah’s back.
Relief rippled over her and she brushed away tears that threatened.
“Not a lot, mind you. You made me hurry, like.”
The late afternoon wore on and the autumn mists thickened as the evening neared. Siobhan wrapped her coat around Jake who was sitting in front of her in the saddle, and he was soon lulled to a rocking sleep. That wonderful little-boy scent of his wafted up amongst the heat escaping from the coat tucked around him. She held him close and placed a kiss on his curly head, her soul welling with her love for him.
Micah took them on a path that hugged the mountain on the farther side. There were more trees here, as the sides of the mountains were not as steep, and the wind lessened. At times the route seemed circuitous, but every clump of trees and gorse looked the same, and the mist shrouded the hillside in an obscuring cloak.
“We gotta find a place to camp soon, with the night drawing in, and all,” Micah said over his shoulder while he rode ahead of her on the narrow track.
Yes, she’d picked the wrong time of the year to be travelling, with autumn here and winter just around the corner. Then a thought struck her.
“What will Cèilidh say?”
“She’ll think I’m off sortin’ bandits with Rory.”
Siobhan sunk in her saddle. “How long before you’re missed?”
“That depends on how long your man’s away dealin’ with the bandits I’m helping him with, ken?”
They came to a copse of gorse and rode through a narrowing of growth. They brushed past the prickly branches of the natural entrance. It opened up to a clearing hedged by gorse bushes the height of a man. Micah halted his horse and jumped down to the grassy space.
“We’ll make camp here. There’s plenty of shelter.” He stood with his hands set on his hips. “Did you think of a tent?”
“No.” Again. She groaned to herself at her lack of preparation.
“I’ve got a tarp we can string up somewhere. We’ll get soaked by the mist without it, ken?”
Soon Micah had a warm fire blazing and when it burned down to coals, he cooked bannocks over them. Jake had woken when they’d dismounted and cried when he saw the unfamiliar surroundings but settled after some food. Siobhan wrapped him in all her clothing for warmth and padding from the hard ground. He now slept on her coat, bundled under the tarp.
The mist thinned for a gap and the full moon stared down at Siobhan. She grimaced at the connection between romance and a full moon. At present, she and Rory were barely a sliver of a crescent moon. She ground her teeth on her grimace. Her mother had died when she was young, and her father had never remarried. A married relationship wasn’t on-hand for her to observe until she lived in the Bunker.
Siobhan sighed. Aunty Rajna compared marriage to the moon. Siobhan scraped at her memory to recall Aunty’s words. Just as the moon waxes and wanes, so does the intimacy of married love. It isn’t always a full moon, she said. Siobhan let a smile tweak at the corner of her mouth for a second as she heard Aunty’s voice in her head. Life changes shape like the moon and our love does with it. It is what it is at any given point. Crescent or new or full. It is still the moon, is it not?
If Siobhan kept on her current path, their moon would wane into nothingness.
But if she stayed...
Micah held a long stick wrapped with bannock dough over the coals. “You want this last bannock, Siobhan?” He glanced at the tight gap in the gorse through which they’d made their way.
“Yes, please.” Siobhan took the offered toasted bannock dough. Her stomach had settled, and her earlier adrenaline-fuelled trembles and wooziness had eased the further away they rode from the compound. With her stomach almost full, she anticipated sleeping well after her emotionally and physically exhausting day.
Micah looked up and stared at the gap in the gorse again. The thump of a horse’s hooves vibrated under her.
“Someone’s coming!” A flare of alarm ran through Siobhan. She glanced at her toddler sleeping soundly in a bundle of clothes. Were there bandits out this way? Surely Micah had contacts, and they’d be okay?
“Sorry, Siobhan.” Micah’s gaze remained on the break in the gorse hedge.
Siobhan spun and faced the entrance to their secluded campsite, staring at the gap.
Then Rory rode in.