“Now, what do we do with it?”

The younger boys looked at Will Tanner with wide eyes and wider smiles. The ringleader of the local troublemakers, Will stood a head taller than the other boys, all rangy arms and legs topped off with an unruly mop of tangled hair. In his hand, he held the burlap sack of nettles they had collected and he carried his bow unstrung over his shoulder like he always did, much to his father’s dismay. “Learn the trade,” his father said while he dragged buckets of dung through the tannery, “and settle down. About time you found yourself a girl with a proper dowry as well.” And rather than listen to another of the interminable lectures about his future and the noble profession of soaking hides in a mix of shit and piss, Will took off for the rolling hills outside of town with the rest of the young boys of the village.

“There’s the party today, yeah? For the merchant’s lass, her nameday. And her father being the big man about town that he is, all the richest buggers will be out in force to kiss each other’s arses. So… the way I see it, we should liven things up some. Follow me!”

Laughing, he lead the way back to the village, sprinting over the heather and gorse-covered hills and down the sheep tracks that lead to the village’s western boundary. Nearly four hundred souls lived in Dun Braedon, most of them herders and tradesmen of some stripe, and the peace in the south of the Highlands brought a calm not to be found among the clans in Dunholm and farther north. Unfortunately for John Tanner, a dour, business-like man and Will’s father, some of the wildness of the Northmen had not been bred out of young William. His other sons had learned the tanner’s trade and his daughter had been married to a respectable journeyman smith from a village two day’s walk away, but Will was a terror. He spent more time with his bow, whipping arrows at trees until he could compete with the foresters at the harvest festival. And if that was not already bad enough, he was a lover of trick, pranks, and all manner of mischief. And that was exactly the sort of thing that Will had in mind.

The reeve lived on the western side of the town’s main market square, opposite a shrine and the guildhall in a large stone house. Unlike the men farther North, the southern Highlanders built more and more in stone and less in timber like the halls in Dunholm and beyond. These settlements were more permanent, rooted in the more fertile soil and their construction showed that stability. It also made it easier for a cretin like Will Tanner to climb. Tying the bag on his back and leaving his bowstave propped against the wall, Will pulled himself up the uneven stonework while the dozen or so boys looked on from the tavern’s yard across the road. When he reached the top of the wall, he grabbed one of the roof’s beam’s through the thatch and pushed off the wall. Just to his left there was a horn window that led into the reeve’s chambers and, with a swing, Will kicked it loose from its frame. Shuffling over, he swung again and got his feet on the window’s ledge then let the momentum carry him into the room.

The reeve’s best breeches and tunic were laid out on the edge of his four-poster bed and Will grinned like a fiend. He pulled off the bag from around his back and quickly went about his business. Using a piece of leather from his father’s scraps to protect his hand, Will grasped stalks of nettles from the bag and ran them along the insides of the reeve’s clothes, leaving the sticking burrs behind as he withdrew the stalks and jammed them back into the bag. He tossed the bag back out the window and moved to the sill, where he twisted the horn in its frame until there was barely a large enough gap to fit through. Then he reached into his pouch and took out his bowcord and a small withy he had taken from near the millpond. He looped the cord around the withy in such a way that it would come untied with a sharp tug, then climbed out the window with the cord trailing behind. The branch caught the end of the window and Will drew it slowly toward him until it was nearly in its frame. Then, his feet on the window sill and one arm bracing against the roof’s beam, he gave a sharp pull on the cord. The window snapped back into the frame and the withy fell onto the floor of the reeve’s chamber.

When he dropped back into the lane behind the reeve’s house he tucked the bowcord back into his pouch, grabbed the bowstave, and titled it toward the rest of the boys as he bowed like a performer they would likely see that evening. “Now lads, my da’s out at the pits, so let’s grab us a skin of his wine and see if any of you sods can outshoot the great Will Tanner.” The boys laughed and sped down the main road, past the trestle tables being carried out for the party. Caitlin was from a well off family and the patriarch of the McKenna’s was going to spare no expense for her nameday celebrations. Will was looking forward to the feast to come but it would not be until the evening so rather than look to his duties around the tannery, he drank in the verges of the woods and shot arrows until his fingers were sore and the sun was setting. Then, staggering a little from the wine, he slunk back to his father’s house, hiding the bow in the roof’s thatch and sneaking back into his small room.

His father was only minutes behind him but when he pushed back the hanging leather that served as the room’s door, he saw Will dutifully washing his face and combing the worst of the tangles from his hair. “Well, I’ll meet you there,” his father said gruffly, and let the partition fall back into place. Will let out a sigh of relief and collapsed onto his pallet before rummaging around to find his cleanest tunic. Even if everyone said she was a witch, Caitlin was turning into a fine looking young woman and it would not do to arrive looking like he had spent the way pulling pranks and drinking with his friends. Appearances, in a place like Dun Braedon, had to be kept up.

With his hair wetted down into a semblance of order, Will rescued his ever-present bow from the roof’s thatch followed down the patch back to the square. Fires were lit and the smell of roasting meat carried over the cool evening air. Will listened to the melodies of a traveling troop of musicians that Caitlin’s father had hired for the occasion as he got closer and could hear the stamp of feet as people kept time with the song and encouraged the dancers. Pushing his way through the crowd, he saw that the girls and boys of the village were already dancing and he smirked, opting instead for a pot of ale from the tavern’s table.

He drank on the fringes of the older men’s circle, where the fathers joked about when they were the ones dancing and half-haggled dowries for their daughters, and watched the dancers. He saw Caitlin, looking quite fetching in her dress as the dancers twirled and laughed, trading partners in the reel. Then Will saw him, the reeve, and laughed. The man was writhing in his chair and even in the dying light of the day, the blotches on his skin from the nettles were obvious. It served him right, Will thought a touch viciously, for being an overbearing bastard and raising a worse son, Dougal. The boys were of an age but Will and Dougal never saw eye to eye. He was too much like his father, the reeve, aware of his station and willing to lord it over others. Dougal thought he was entitled to the best things on account of his birth and Will, ever the contrarian, made it his mission to annoy Dougal at every turn.

When the couples turned and switched partners again, Dougal bowed to Caitlin and she curtsied in kind. As they spun to the music, Will grinned and put his pint aside, nearly empty. When they got closer, separating to spin four-handed with another pair of dancers, Will casually stuck out the stave of his bow and tripped the reeve’s son, sending him staggering out of the dance and into the knot of village fathers. Without missing a step, Will took his place with a cheeky smile, his bow stave casually leaning against a table. “Well, Miss Caitlin, it seems your partner seems to have lost your partner, so I will be his replacement. Will Tanner, in case you don’t remember,” he said with a bow, “and a happy name day to you.”

Given that the party was in her honor, Caitlin knew she could not just shrink away to a side as she wanted.  Instead, she found herself caught in the whirl of dancers, trying to smile and keep up with everything.  She actually did have the feet for dancing, and after a few round, the young woman found herself enjoying the dancing.  At least, that was until Dougal became her partner.  There was something about the young man that she just did not like.  Perhaps it was because Caitlin knew their fathers had been talking, and if rumors were true, a dowry was being negotiated.  Even with her reputation as a witch, it appeared that the reeve was willing to take a chance with his son on her.  She had a pretty good idea her dowry would be worth a pretty pile of silvers, and that was likely incentive enough.

But there was an appearance that she had to keep up, and Caitlin kept the smile on her face.  She knew her father would not allow for her to spoil the McKenna name because of her personal dislike.  But a savior of sorts came from a completely unexpected source, and Caitlin's smile turned genuine when the reeve's son was sent into the crowd rather ungracefully.  "I do remember you, Will.  And thank you.  He was beginning to step on my toes.  Not the best nameday gift," she said, just loud enough to be heard by the others dancing.  There was snickers beginning to circulate, and this time it wasn't about her.  That was a relief, and Caitlin could actually focus on enjoying herself.  The troupe changed music again, and the dance shifted to one where the partners stayed together. 

"So I have to ask, I wouldn't have thought you'd come to this.  Any particular reasoning, or just have a bit of fun?  Other than the spread my dad put on," Caitlin asked, curious.  There was no malice in her voice, just a sense of amusement.  His reputation was almost worse than her own, given all the trouble he enjoyed causing.  She did have to wonder if the reeve's obvious discomfort was his doing, something that was entirely possible.  And it would have greatly amused Caitlin if that was the case. 

“When most folk remember me, it’s never a good thing, but I hope this is an exception,” Will quipped as they danced. His reputation tended to precede him and it was not one that was well liked in the polite society of the village. His father and brothers were respected men of the town, neither high nor low, but sober and responsible men. Will’s personality made him a handful, his mother would say, but he never really cared for the need to be respectable. He preferred to live without the cloying strictures of the town’s respectability and saw no reason to change. “But at least I won’t trample your feet, so there’s that, at least.” He chuckled and turned with Caitlin, not sure if he was enjoying the dancing itself or the fact that he had soured Dougal’s evening. Probably, he thought, both.

He was not entirely sure why he had come, when she asked him and stalled by twirling her in the dance. It was usually something that he would not have done but it seemed like a good idea at the time. “To be fair,” he said as they drew closer again, “I am not sure. I can’t turn down a good meal, of course, or even a bad pint. And I did want to see if my handiwork was annoying the reeve.” He smiled with satisfaction. “You see, I popped into his rooms this morning and got nettles all over his ceremonial kit from his breeches to his cloak. He’s got to be in a rare bit of discomfort now, so he has, and I am glad of it, the prick.” He had the decency to duck his head in apology. “Pardon the language, of course.”

The music slowed and Will took that as an opportunity to slip away, back to the food and drink. “Come on, let’s have a pint and watch these folk enjoying your da’s largesse while they gossip about you behind your back like you’re not even a person.” He could not stand the hypocrisy of it all and would prefer to face it well fortified with drink. “They say things about us both, so I figured you might like an ally, if only for the night.” He passed her a glass and took one himself. “Though if you do decide to light me on fire for being an impertinent pain in the hole, no one would blame you. Town might even through another festival in your honor, get you a statue and all.” He leaned against the table as he watched the dancers and the rest of the crowd. “So, what do you think of it all, Cait? You don’t mind if I call you Cait, do you?” He rattled on, not waiting for her answer. “And do you think the rumors are true? Not the ones about your being a fire demon from another plane sent to vex your poor parents, of course. We know that is true beyond question. No, I mean the one about the reeve and your father figuring on packing you off with Stomping Dougal. That would be a rare face to have to wake up to every morning, that’s for sure.”

Only shrugging, Caitlin said nothing about his reputation.  Neither one of them had one that was exactly sterling.  "And that I appreciate.  Got delicate toes and such," she said with a chuckle.  There was a bit of a grin on her face when Will admitted to coming for the food and drink her father had provided.  And there was most certainly nothing to complain about in that department.  Her eyebrows went up when he mentioned annoying the reeve, and just how.  Everyone had noticed the blotches in the skin, and his general discomfort.  But Caitlin had to stifle a giggle, it would not be appropriate given the current company.  "Funny thing is I'm betting there are more than a few present who are kicking themselves for not thinking of it," she said with a grin.  She only shrugged at the language, she had heard much worse.

She nodded in agreement to enjoying the spread her dad had put on, and Caitlin couldn't be expected to dance the whole evening.  Her glass contained the spiced wine her dad knew she preferred, and it was a relief to stand on the sidelines for a bit.  "You're right, I would like an ally.  Though I won't light you on fire.  Only do that to people I really don't like," Caitlin said, a wicked grin crossing her face for a moment.  Whether or not Will would get that she was joking, she didn't know.  And at this point, she was a bit beyond caring.  Her cheeks flushed for a moment when he asked if he could call her Cait, and she shook her head.  But the flush was lost when he mentioned the rumors that were swirling.  And it was something she had been avoiding.

"I don't even want to think about that, to be honest.  I don't want to be tied down… especially to him.  I want to get out and see things," she said, her voice growing distant for a few moments.  Her hands went to the blue silk shawl she had worn for the whole evening.  it had been a gift on her last nameday, and the deep blue was a rare color in the Highlands.  "Dad brought this for me last year, from one of his trips to Adeluna.  But it came from somewhere even further away.  A land called Ataiyo.  I want to go there, I want to see how they make this silk.  And that ain't going to happen if I get tied to Stomping Dougal," Caitlin said, making a face.  And it wasn't just Adeluna and Ataiyo she wanted to see.  There were other places too, with names equally exotic and fascinating.  And then, there was her magic.

Taking a long drink of her spiced wine, she voiced something to Will she had only told two other souls.  Her brother, and the familiar he had brought to her.  "I don't think I can stay here.  I can't get stuck here.  I just don't know what to do about it," Caitlin admitted.  There was a bit of longing in her voice, that want to see other places.  Most of the young women here were already married, and content with having their husbands, most of whom carried on a dalliance or two.  And Caitlin was more than a bit sure that Dougal would be more of the same.

"Well, he is an unpleasant man and his son's on track to be the same.  It just boggles my mind that no one else has the stones to say anything about it.  So instead, I make his life a misery as best I can, just to be an annoyance.  He does deserve it, after all."  He grinned back at her and sipped from his cup again.  He was having more fun than he expected at the feast and Caitlin seemed to be enjoying his company as well.  It was not a situation that he was accustomed to, because most times he met with the quality of the town, he was marginalized at best and despised at worst.  "And I would be glad to be your ally, so long as I get a five minute head start before you decide to immolate me.  Wouldn't want to make a mess of things in the town, you see.  It would never do with the reeve's dignity and all."  He laughed outright there at his own imitation of the reeve and the pomposity of the town.

So Caitlin wanted to see the world.  He sympathized with her in that respect.  "This wee speck isn't enough city for you, with all its charm and regal tones, eh?"  He chuckled, noticing how serious her tone became, but was unable to be anything but his jocular self at the moment.  "I can credit that, aye.  I am not sure there's much future for me around here.  I've been considering heading off south, myself, Adeluna and the like.  Folk always seem to get into trouble down there and a lad with a bow might be able to find himself work helping sort that out.  The blessing for me, at least, is that I'm the youngest on of the vill's tanner and they don't expect a damned thing out of me after I've been such a pain in the arse all these years.  If I were to up and leave, it would be a relief for Father and his social standing."

Caitlin was in an unenviable position.  If her father reached an agreement with the reeve, there was little she could hope for aside from a slow, painful death of the spirit in the vill.  Dougal would likely follow in his father's footsteps and serve as the reeve and Caitlin would wither in the grand hall.  "So… why don't you just run off?  Shouldn't be too hard.  I figure your da will have some cash stashed away as your dowry or his business' profits.  Grab a bit of that, some food, and a horse and then you're golden.  You could be in the Valley in a week's good travel and from there, the Maker only knows!  For someone that wants adventure, Cait, you don't seem to know the first thing about it.  Grab it by the bloody horns and don't let go!"

The young woman shrugged, she knew exactly why.  "It's because the people who could do something would rather enjoy their little piece of the kingdom.  And the ones that see it are like you and me, can't really do much about it.  You're right about him deserving it though," she said with a chuckle.  Caitlin had never really been one for following the rules, only as much as was utterly necessary.  She grinned when he asked about getting a headstart, and Caitlin let her smile turn to something slightly malicious.  "Oh of course.  I'm smart enough to not doing something like that with witnesses around," she said, her voice low enough for only Will to really hear.

Her eyes rolled for a moment when he asked about the town being enough, but Caitlin found herself curious about Will and his thoughts on leaving.  He did have a point.  It was difficult for the sons who came after the first to find any place.  But she was somewhat stuck, being the only daughter.  It was pretty much considered her duty to marry and bring honor to the family by her marriage. 

Then Will suggested something aloud that she had only considered.  Her voice caught in her throat for a moment.  There weren't more than a few things keeping her here, namely her brother.  "I was staying mostly for Liam.  But… he's healed up now.  Mostly.  If I go.. he needs to know though.  But I think you're right, Will," she said, taking another gulp of her drink.  The thought of staying here, being married off like she was a breeding cow to the highest bidder, was rather horrifying.  And once she was with child, that would be the end of any possibilities. 

"Will.  Meet me, tonight.  An hour after midnight.  I'll bring the horses and the coin.  The food's yours.  Behind the barn on the edge of my dad's property," she said, a sudden idea coming to her mind.  Caitlin knew little of the world at large, but surely the two of them could make their way out of the Highlands.  The thought of staying here and being stuck was suddenly more than she could bear.  when she saw her father making her was towards her with the reeve at his side, there was a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.  In that moment, she knew.  Will slipped off, though she knew why.

It felt like she was being put in chains as Dougal claimed her hand and pulled her out onto the floor for another dance.  But the only thing that gave her a bit of hope was the idea of running away.  She was able to shut everything out by planning the escape, by thinking where the dowry money would be, and praying to the Maker that will would be by the barn.  The party would go on for some time now, but Caitlin would soon be able to excuse herself for a rest.  Ladylike constitution and all.  And by morning, she planned on being long gone.

“Well, that escalated quickly,” Will muttered with a smirk. “But sure, why not? Not exactly the way I would imagine meeting a young lady in the night in her father’s barn, but a man’s got to adapt.” He winked at her and grabbed his bow, heading out of the town toward his father’s tannery. They did not keep a large pantry any longer, as it was just himself and his parents but it would be enough to see himself and Caitlin out of the area and south. He did not stop to think about the rashness of this course of action, though to be fair, he was not the sort of young man that was often accused of overthinking anything. Instead, once he reached the tannery, he took a bag from his room and filled it with two loaves of bread his mother had got that morning, a ham from the fireplace where it was smoked, a few of the winter apples, and, of course, two large stone jars of wine. “No sense in doing something this daft and doing it sober, yeah?”

Before he left, he took the time to prepare his bow, rubbing the yew stave with beeswax until it shone in the light of the fire. It would protect the wood along the journey and if it was to be how he earned his keep, he could not risk any sort of damage to it. He stuffed all his spare bow cords into a pouch at his waist and rooted around his small chamber for his arrows. The yeomen of the forest taught him how to make and fletch his own arrows, using the feathers of a goose’s wing and glue from the hooves of the animals his father was rendering, and Will had learned well. What little coin he had not spent on ale and wine went to the town’s blacksmith who forged him arrowheads, some broad, cruelly barbed flesh arrows meant for hunting and other the needle-sharp bodkins that could piece armor when they were well placed and well driven. These he kept in canvas bags, spaced out around a wooden ring to save the fletching, and even with his constant practice, he had three bags left. He hung one at his waist and the others over his shoulder, then ducked out of the tannery for what he thought would be the last time.

The party was in its last gasps in the square and Will walked straight through it, grabbing what he could of the food was left and wrapping it in a cloth, anything that would help stretch the provisions a little longer. Some of the men looked at him, confused, but once they realized it was the Tanner boy, they went back to their cups, content to let the troublemaker do whatever it was he was planning with that serious look and his great yew bow. Will, for once, was glad that his reputation was so sullied that he would not be stopped and, once outside the square, headed into the forest, where he felt more at home. As the moon rose, he picked his way through the brush toward the boundaries of McKenna land, moving as though he was stalking a deer. He did want to be noticed, as that meant the plan would be undone.

By the time the moon rose to its full height, Will was waiting just beyond the stone enclosure that stood near the barn, crouched in a small stand of trees. He whistled, a shrill, warbling tone, one of the birds of the forest, and waited, hoping that Caitlin would have the sense to know the wood grouse slept at night. If not, he would have to be more direct, but he did not want to risk it. It was madness, this plan, and he knew it, but it was a freeing sort of madness. That would have to be enough.

It took longer than she liked, but Caitlin was finally able to make her excuses.  The wedding was to be held a month from now, but she planned to be long gone.  Caitlin and her mother began the walk home, and she broke off to visit her brother.  Fiona nodded, saying she needed to rest, as her fever had only recently ended.  Her brother answered the door, and they sat by the hearth for an hour talking.  Keegan watched from the fire, offering an opinion here and there.  And in the end, Caitlin convinced her brother that she would indeed be fine, even if he wasn't entirely thrilled at the thought of her going off with the tanner's son.  But she promised that she would keep in touch, and that was the final reassurance that he needed.

When she got back to the house, it was quiet.  She could hear her mother's quiet snores, and knew her father and the reeve would be drinking for hours to come.  But she still had to be quick and quiet.  She knew exactly where her father kept the coin, and she had overheard the amount that had been negotiated for the dowry.  It was kept in a secret compartment in the hearth, and Caitlin quickly counted out the stacks of coin.  She only took exactly her dowry, given that her dad was going to lose that money one way or the other.  Dividing the coin into four pouches, that would make it much easier on the horses.  A lump formed in her throat as she packed the few things she wanted to take.  But Caitlin knew she could not stay.  Trading her skirts for riding pants and boots, she looked around.  Caitlin wasn't sure if this would be the last time she saw it, but she wanted to take it all in. 

Once she got to the barn, she took a moment to figure out which two horses.  Ciaran was coming either way, she had trained the stallion since he was a colt.  Since she knew that a pair of horses was another part of her dowry, she felt little guilt.  Roy was the steadiest, and the gelding was the calmest around new people.  Quickly saddling both horses, she added a bag of oats to each saddle, as well as the little things needed in caring for horses.  It was quiet while she worked, but the shrill whistle of a bird broke the silence.  It took her a few seconds to realize no bird would be making that noise at this hour. 

A few minutes later, she emerged from the barn with both horses.  Glancing at the house, it was still dark.  Caitlin knew her father would immediately go to bed, so they would have quite a few hours to get away.  And it was just starting to snow again.  "This is Roy.  He's the only one who can keep up with my Ciaran," she said to Will, pulling herself confidently onto her horse.  Taking a deep breath, she nodded to the tanner's son.  It was time to leave.