Oops! Questa immagine non segue le nostre linee guida sui contenuti. Per continuare la pubblicazione, provare a rimuoverlo o caricare un altro.
𝐕𝐎𝐋𝐔𝐌𝐄 𝟏 FOUR. the girl left behind
Oops! Questa immagine non segue le nostre linee guida sui contenuti. Per continuare la pubblicazione, provare a rimuoverlo o caricare un altro.
lallybroch, scotland february 1752
Faith Murray was in trouble.
At sunset, the seven year old sat quite unhappily on the back steps of Lallybroch, mud in her hair and blood still staining her upper lip.
It really was Marsali MacKimmie who started the fight, at least in Faith's opinion. Marsali hadn't needed to say what she did, and Faith's temper got the better of her in a way it hadn't ever before. She did throw the first punch. But Marsali hadn't stopped when she told her to, and Faith hadn't even hit her at first. She'd only tried to cover the other girl's mouth with her hand to insist she stop talking. Marsali had been the one who bit her... then Faith hit her — and it hadn't even been that hard.
Of course it had been Quarter Day so Auntie Jenny and Uncle Ian, along with Marsali's mother, had been right there. Right d—mn there. Her aunt had berated her in front of everyone, including the tenants, neighbours, and the rest of the family including her cousins who weren't likely to let her forget it in a hurry.
This was terrible, Faith knew, but Marsali getting a mouthful of dirt and blood had been a comfort.
As far as Faith was concerned, it had all been worth it.
But now she had to face her da.
When he arrived at the back steps, past sunset, Faith was begrudgingly waiting for him.
At his arrival, Jenny appeared just behind her, "There ye are, brother. Time to deal wit' it, then. This one and Marsali MacKimmie were warring against each other all day."
Quite understandably, this took Jamie aback. While his daughter was one for mischief, she wasn't one for fighting and she certainly wasn't one to make such rash decisions. Jamie himself had been partial to many of those in his time, but Faith differed from him in that way. He'd observed her, from a distance, from the times she wasn't with him, and his daughter was a quiet lass; thoughtful, watchful. She thought through everything she did. She wasn't prone to childish skirmishes.
