Lioness // Outlander (Completed)

We still do. - chapter 2.

June, 1752.

The sun seeps through my window as it rises over Lallybroch, waking me from my light sleep. The bed sheets are warm around me and I refuse to leave them until I must, the day's chores can wait a little while longer. The faint smell of cooking bannocks fills my room and my stomach groans in response. God, I'm hungry. And then. Bannocks. Bannocks means Da's coming home! Aunt Jenny always cooks them when she has word he will visit, as a secret message. My chest bubbles with a serene sense of joy and I can't help but giggle, Da is coming to see me, finally, he's coming home. 

I'm up, washed, dressed and munching on my warm bannocks before the rest of the other children are even awake, eager for the day's end to come quickly. 

"Don't rush my wee cherub, you'll cough them out ye nose like wee Jamie does" Uncle Ian chuckled, pulling the sticky bannock from my hand. "What are we gonna do wi' her Jenny?" He called to his wife. She didn't respond, the space growing silent and uneasy. I looked over at Uncle Ian, brows burrowed together in confusion. Whats wrong with Aunt Jenny? 

"Finish your breakfast" he responded, uncle and I had a way of doing that, speaking without words. I was never very good at hiding what I was thinking, wee Jamie always said I'd be terrible at cards. He stood to leave the kitchen, the table rocking slightly as he did so, then hesitated momentarily, undecided. Finally, he dropped my last bannock on his half empty plate and pushed them in my direction. "Can't have ye hungry now." I smiled, genuinely, and watched him hobble out to find his unusually quiet wife. 

Although aunt Jenny was fierce and loud, her voice being heard from miles outside of Lallybroch, there were times she sunk into herself, solum and melancholy. She had seen things not even time could erase, and every now and again, the memories would touch her mind and she would be taken back there to live them again. I wasn't always sure what she was thinking about, when I'd catch a glimpse of her staring off in the kitchen or in the vegetable patch, but recently I could read what was playing on her mind. I had saw her standing in the dining room once, a book tucked in the crook of her arm. It was late and she was staring out at the night sky, I hadn't any idea how long she'd been there, or how long I had been watching her, but there she stood, hand pressed on her round, six month pregnant belly. Perhaps she was thinking about how she might feed this one, with the little grain we had left. Or perhaps she thought about what world this one may come into, ravaged by war. I know for sure though, as I left her to stand there in her thoughts, that she prayed this one would stay.

I was tucking into the last few slices of my breakfast, enjoying the silence of the house, when Fergus traipsed into the room, curly hair sticking out in every direction. His stomach grumbled at the sight of my almost empty plate, he was hungry, as always. Who wasn't?  Since Culloden, famine had spread over the Highlands like an infectious rash. We hadn't been full in years, even with the extra potatoes Ma told aunty to plant before she...went. I sighed, pushed my plate towards Fergus with a smile. He looked as if the plate was a trap, that if he leaned over to grab it, something might emerge and swallow his hand whole. 

"You can have it" I nodded, to reassure him it was okay. My brother, not through blood, but through oath, and that was more important to me anything, even my last bannock. 

He broke a corner off the bannock and shoved it in his mouth, making sure to give me a gaping, slightly nauseating smile. "Thank you, how shall I repay you?" He laughed, making sure I knew what he meant, and I did, he did this every time he had the chance too. I tried to dart from the table before he could grab me, but it was useless. Fergus was five years old than me and bigger in size and strength, so when his arm folded around my head and his other hand pulled my bonnet off, I knew all I could do was kick and scream. My braids fell from my discarded bonnet and Fergus' fisted knuckle started to rub back and forth over my head. The curls sprang loose from the braids, a waterfall of auburn spirals cascading over my face. 

"Get off me you frog!" I screamed, when my thrashing arms failed to make a difference. This made him laugh in response and rub my hair harder.

"Oui oui ma petit orange, tu ne peux pas gagner" his laugh was getting louder and his grip wasn't loosening. 

My patience had always been short, a temper like fire, da always said, just like your mother. My patience snapped, and I began to shout "I'm not an orange! And when Da come's home I'm going to tell-"

"Fergus! Faith! Stop it right, now the pair of you!" Aunt Jenny shrieked at us, the sound of her voice stopped us in our tracks. The hairs on my arms raised and Fergus let go of my head immediately. She stood stiffly in the kitchen, opposite the small table we sometimes ate our breakfast on. It startled me to hear my name spoken out loud, my real name, that was. Only Da would use it. My eyes filled at the sound of it, the thought of people using it so freely, without the fear of redcoats hearing. I blinked the tears away, I was a big girl now. Eleven, almost twelve. Names shouldn't make me cry anymore. 

"I am sorry aunty, I was just playing around" my brothers French accent coated his words as he spoke. I remember the first time I had saw him, in France, after Da had brought him home from the brothel he was living in. They had never told me why they had really brought him into our family, they had just said he needed a home with a heart big enough to love him. I looked at him now, my brother, and realised we had always been destined for just that. Siblings. It had always meant to be. All the mess that came with France had been worth it, for him. 

"Nay Aunt, I called him a frog, ye ken how much that irks him" I played on my Scots accent as aunty always loved when I did that. She said she could see Da in me when I did. 

"Okay" she huffed, "well then, fix your hair Aggie" her voice choked slightly after saying my real name so openly. "The wee herbs need tending, and then we'll go to the village at lunch. Theres some ailments ye need to treat there, ye ken, with Claire's book." I nodded and began to smooth my hair back. She picked the empty jug off the table and disappeared out the door. Each time someone spoke of Ma, of me, of our family, as though we were distant memories of the past, my heart throbbed. I knew they must, for my safety, speak about my family as though we never existed. But we had, and we still do. 

I pushed the feelings away, as I always did, and went about fixing my hair before strapping my bonnet back down on my head. It would cover the red, in case someone came to the house, as they often did. It would stop any questions. 

I left Fergus to enjoy the rest of my bannocks with Jamie, who had come down to see what all the commotion was. He hated when I called him wee Jamie, as everyone else did. He reminded me too frequently he was in fact 4 months older than me, so if anyone is the wee one, it's you, Aggie Mcscabby! I laugh to myself , thinking about his remarks as I entered the morning sunshine in the yard. My herb basket placed on the crook of my arm, clean apron and ointments ready for use. Growing up, I had poured over the pages ma had left, following her handwriting with my fingers. I learned everything I knew about healing from her and the book she left. The herbs I should use to fix minor ailments, the ointments to apply, how to make them, how to keep things, as she called them, sterile. I was young though, and aunt Jenny kept me away from the things I couldn't handle, only visiting those with coughs and cuts, no matter how much I begged to do more. Often, in payment for my help, people would give what they could spare. Sometimes grain or fresh fruit, never money, as they had none to give. I always felt I was meant to heal, a calling I gladly answered.

I stood in the yard, looking out at the high archway to the main entrance. If I let my mind loose to wander, I can imagine them, ma and da hand in hand, coming home. It is something I don't have time for now, and instead turn to the low wind, feeling the blazing sun warm my cheeks. With a sigh, I start my chores for the day, with the promise of seeing my loved one come nightfall.