Fearchar in great kilt with leather archer's bracer leaning on table over plate of food.  Kavordian Library. Fyskar.
Fearchar contemplating Widow Magaidh from across the table.

He was none too pleased.  Honestly, what was his grandmother’s friend expecting from him?  He had only become close to her in the last three years after having moved from the far end of Skye.  He still did not quite understand where she was coming from when her mind wandered. What could she possible see in him that would lead her to volunteer him to a doctor?  He could not even read. “Aunty, Ah am nae wet nurse – ” he began gently.

“Oh, haud yer wheesht. Yer’re perfect f’r what ‘e asked f’r,” she reassured, patting his arm maternally.  He bore with it, allowing her administrations. He had to break it to her though. He wasn’t some fine mattered fellow.  “Less’n ‘e needs fresh bodies, Ah ain’ nae his man, Aunt Magaidh,” he fingered his empty cup.

She shrugged, again, waiving him away.  “Ye fought val’antly on the mainland, Fearchar.  I ‘eard ’bout yer ‘ventures. Sure’s ye’ll be use’ul.  ‘n ‘ere’s this,” she reached into her pocket. She held out her gnarled hand for Fearchar’s inspection.  He inhaled sharply and looked from her hand to her face to see that she was serious. “Gold coin sayin’ yi’ll help him.” She smiled.

Not like he had a gold coin to his name, but he would be a fool to turn her down now.  Unless her doctor was also a general, he saw no good reason that he would partner up with the man.  “Ye’re on,” he smiled, knowing what a surprise it would be for his lovely little woman to bring home a gold coin.

The door hinges creaked, drawing their attention to the sudden shaft of light that brightened up the dim room.  Fearchar sucked in his breath. “Get tae…plague…” escaped his teeth with a revolting hiss.  The beaked mask twitched toward him. Pinned under the glassy gaze, he shifted such that his chair squeaked.  He would sure have heavy work and there would be bodies to be had if a plague doctor had come to the village.  He had not been made privy to any conversation about the catastrophe coming. There was no denying what stood in the door frame, though.

The red cloaked figure stood tall, having to duck at the head jamb to make his way in.  

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