Healer

Chapter 22

A loud clash of lightning sends me from my never-ending slumber with a small jump. My eyes, wide and alert, flicker open, finding the room dark, only lit by a spent candle, on it's last few flickers itself.

A low rumble follows the clash, covering the earth in noise. My body, doused in strongly-scented oils, ointments and sweat, feels like one with the mattress. The air is thick with a scent I recognize as lavender.

There's a figure by the window, staring out, his body supported by the architecture behind him. MacCallan. He's clearly brooding, his arms crossed over his chest in contemplation. His hair, pulled back into a ponytail, hangs loose and unkempt. I blink slowly, realizing he's still in the same clothes from that night, only now he has a cloth wrapped around his arm.

"Callan?" My voice barely sounds, it's more like a whisper in the wind. He turns though, dropping his tense position.

He gapes, letting out a weak sound before uttering, "Gillian."

I lick my lips, feeling jaggedness along the usually soft skin. He steps forward, clearing his throat and grabs a cup with one hand. The other moves underneath my skull, lifting it enough that when he presses the cup to my mouth, I'm able to swallow the water without choking to death.

I swallow with difficulty, surprised by how swollen my throat feels. My head presses back into the pillows softly and he removes his hand, refusing to meet my gaze.

"What- what happened to me?" I whisper as he sets the glass down, immediately picking up a wood bowl and crusher.

"Ye... were stabbed. You remember that?"

I nod, wishing I didn't.

"... Shortly after ye were stitched up, it infected. 'Twas a severe fever. You've not been fully here in- well, now, it's ten days."

"Ten days?"

"Aye."

"And you... stayed with me? You didn't go?"

He crushes the contents in the bowl, nodding without a glance in my direction. I reach out hesitantly, unsure as to why my arm is resisting my brain. I rest my hand onto his arm, gently.

"Thank you... Callan."

He stops moving the piece of wood at the touch and looks down briefly before looking back to me. He nods, eyes rimmed with barely contained water. "I'm just glad you're awake, Gillian."

I nod, confused as he sets down the bowl onto the table and turns, clearing his throat. Before he exits the room, he gets out, "I'll find ye something to eat."

I stare after him, feeling a tightness in my throat at the expression on his face before he left. I wish I could call him back but I can't. The door opens wider suddenly, revealing a flushed Ann, who gasps finding me awake.

"Oh Gilly! Oh Christ, lass, I thought I'd never speak to ye again, I swear!"

She enters, rushing to my bedside. I smile warmly when she cups my face, pressing a deep kiss into my cheek.

"Ann," I sigh, simply just to say her name.

"The entire clan is in a frenzy about ye! Almost all the men are gone now, but the women are down right frightened for ye. You've got to be as hungry as a bear, aren't ye? The lad has been trying for days to feed ye."

"Is... he okay?" I whisper as she grabs the glass beside my bed, refilling it simply because. She sets it back down and sighs, smiling softly.

"He'll be right in a bit. He was rightly frightened for ye, Gilly, as ye could expect. Hasn't left your side in days."