LOCH MORAR, SCOTLAND
The Cottage-Somewhere on Greystone Lands
Morag pounded another nail into the floorboards. “Good-riddance,” she said, swinging the hammer madly to bring home the last nail.
Once she was sure the boards were going to stay put, she stood up and pressed her hands into her lower back. She wasn’t the young miss she once was, but even she had to admit, after the last full moon, she did feel significantly spryer. A good spell would do that, she thought.
Looking at the cauldron simmering away inside the hearth, she wondered how much time she had left. That damn Highlander was delaying things, things she need to accomplish, all because of his contrary emotions. “Och, I no want this one. The lass, is no good enough,” she mimicked with irritation.
A thump and a groan of pain sounded from under the floorboards stopping her rant.
“Och!” She stomped her foot down. “Shut yer mouth or I will be giving ye something ta complain about.”
The groaning and thumping abruptly stopped.
She smiled, revealing four missing teeth. “There now, see, I am no inhospitable.”
Brushing off her hands, and glancing one last time at her handiwork, she walked outside of the cottage, her cottage, and looked up at the sky, biding her time until the next full moon. Then she would have everything promised to her—she could hardly wait.