LOCH MORAR, SCOTLAND
The Past
Clarion waded through the tall blades of grass, attempting to climb up the steep incline of another hill. This was the third one and for some reason he didn’t seem like he was any closer to Greystone than when he started his journey. Once he spotted a familiar looking rock, he knew why, too. He was walking in circles.
Granted, he knew this was not going to be an easy task, many forces were working against him but he thought he would at least have the element of surprise on his side—apparently not.
“Damn you, Morag!” Frustrated, he swiped his hands over his face, clearing the wetness away, but it did little to help since the rain kept right on coming.
A roll of thunder broke loose, shaking the hillside and if he wasn’t mistaken, he could swear he heard the cackling laughter of Morag as she taunted him from afar.