Aonachd - The Last Road [Editing]

Prologue: The First Bloom of Autumn

Angus leaned his raven-haired head against his older brother's shoulder and stuck his thumb in his mouth, his eyes fluttering shut. But he was not sleeping. Every time Sioned moved, his eyelids would fly open and, sometimes, if Sioned jostled him by accident, take his thumb out of his mouth and look up at his brother in question.

Duncan remained quiet, getting up to retrieve his lost soldier sacrificed to a questionably good cause, and sitting down again to continue his battle of sticks.

Outside, the rain faded away into a misty echo, and the sun appeared from behind the clouds, pools of golden light shining on the ground.

Sioned finished his stew and set the bowl aside with the others to be washed later. "Come, Angus," he said softly, "let's gae to the moors."

His little brother's face brightened, the light in his eyes almost as bright as a sapphire sun, and he scrambled for his cloak, which was far beyond his reach. Sioned fetched it for him and made sure it was secure before tying his own.

"Where are ye gang?" Duncan questioned.

"The moors. I'll be back by supper. I donnae want Angus to wake Mother wi' crying. She needs her rest."

"Why will ye nae take me?" Duncan wailed, his voice rising to a much louder pitch than Sioned cared for.

"Because Father was gang to take ye riding today, donnae ye remember?"

Duncan's face lifted and he went back to his soldiers in a much better mood.

But Sioned and Angus were already outside in the sunlit world.

The air was sweet, as it always is after rain, and Sioned inhaled deeply, his brother riding piggyback behind him and humming a song, as Angus often did when he was happy. He never talked much, but he sang.

Sioned passed some of his friends and sword-brothers as he walked towards the gate, greeting them with a grin since he could not wave and carry Angus at the same time. Angus called out to them instead, his voice high and sweet like a bird's.

"Sioned is taking me t'moors!"

His friends laughed good-naturedly in response and wished them well.

The moors were beautifully empty and wide, the sunlight sparkling off water droplets hanging on the heather, a glittering gold necklace across the hillside.

Sioned hiked a distance beyond An Dùn until the fortress town was a dark speck against the horizon, and set Angus down, lying down on the wet heather and closing his eyes, relishing the warm sun.

"Donnae wander far, and call if ye need me," Sioned said, his muscles, tightened from the sword practice that morning, slowly relaxing.

"I will," Angus piped, and wandered off, his small figure quickly vanishing amid the thick heather and the hollows they covered.

Both of them knew the hills well enough, and Sioned had no fear of losing his brother in daylight. Besides, Angus would go back to the village—if not to Sioned.

Except Sioned, worn out by the morning practice, slipped into a deep sleep beneath the comforting sun, and Angus, humming to himself as he scrambled and fell on the hillside as he wandered, was soon beyond sight, vanishing into the purple of autumn heather.

~~~

Angus lilted a tune to himself, the melody rising and falling, his young voice rippling like the wind upon the grass as he tripped along the hillside, headed towards a clump of fading heather sprigs by a pile of rocks standing on a hillock.