Dawn Marie Hamilton -- Writer of Romance

"Rattlesnake!"

Jillian O'Donnell pedaled as fast as she could, past the autumn-tinted trees, to catch up to her brother, the rat. He always sped ahead, leaving her behind.

"Kyle did you hear me? I said...no, I screamed...rattlesnake."

As she rode her dusty mountain bike along side his, he slowed. "You overreact."

"I do not. There was a rattlesnake on the trail. What if the nasty snake bit me, and you were so far ahead you didn't know? The poison would be all through my system before help arrived."

Kyle chuckled. "That snake was more afraid of you than you of it. Relax."

"Why must you always dart ahead?"

"Because you're a slowpoke." He gave her a toothy grin. "I always wait for you to catch up. Don't I?"

Jillian ground her teeth, refraining from screaming at him for the umpteenth time. After all, he was the one who had begged her to come on this stupid cycling trip. The least he could do was ride at her pace.

At twenty-eight, and as a co-owner of a successful garden business, she found it difficult to believe she still chased after her thirty year old sibling.

"Come on, the tunnel isn't far. Let's race." Her brother sped ahead again.

Jillian sighed, taking her sweet time to catch up.

Fifteen minutes later, she crossed the weathered old train trestle just before reaching the spot where Kyle waited with an exasperated look on his face.

"Took you long enough."

Oh, how she wanted to kick him. Instead, she blew him a kiss.

He brushed the strands of his annoyingly perfect, sun-bleached, blond hair out of his disgustingly gorgeous, chocolate eyes and laughed. "Let's take a break before we ride through the tunnel."

While they munched on GORP, Jillian covertly glanced into the rocky opening. The mouth of the abandoned train tunnel stared back with menace. Water ebbed from fissures in the stone walls and ceiling. A musty odor assaulted her nostrils. She didn't care for the idea of riding her bike into that murky place.

"Do we really need to go through there? Couldn't we turn back here and return to the campsite?"

"No, we can't. Don't you want to see what's on the other side?"

"Not really."

"Don't be a spoil sport, Jilly. We haven't ridden far enough today. I promise, after we go through the tunnel, we'll only ride another five miles before we turn back."

Jillian nodded in agreement, but she really didn't want to go any farther. She shivered. Something about that tunnel made the hairs on her arms stand on end.

"Ready?" Kyle asked.

"No."

"Come on, sis. It'll be fun."

While they quibbled back and forth, a couple on a tandem rode from the tunnel, waving as they passed.

"See? It's safe," Kyle said.

"All right. But I'm going to walk my bike through. Just wait for me on the other side."

Kyle pedaled off, popped a wheelie, and entered the odious opening.

Jillian took a deep breath, pulled her headlamp out of her pack and secured it over her baseball cap. Inhaling deeply, she slowly walked her bike into the dark.

The beam of her headlamp bounced off brick walls and earthen floor. In the distance, she could barely see the sunlight from the other end of the tunnel. She proceeded carefully, holding her breath. About a quarter of the way through, rough stone replaced brick on the walls. A blast of cold air announced the darkened section where she thought a second tunnel forked off.

She shined her light into what appeared to be the mouth of a narrow cave. Her heartbeat quickened. A dizzy sensation swamped her senses and she tripped forward.

Falling downward, her body became weightless as she continued to plummet. Down...down...down...into a black void. Colorful lights erupted in her mind. A horrible buzzing assaulted her ears. She screamed, but no sound passed her parched lips.

A piercing white light drew her toward it. She closed her eyes, but felt no relief. Pain burst behind her lids, making her head throb relentlessly. Bile burned her throat. Just when she thought the agony more than she could endure, the light exploded into a zillion pieces. Blue stars surrounded her in a peaceful midnight sky.

* * *

Scotland, the eighteenth day of September, 1513

Jillian crouched with the tips of her fingers pressed against the earth in front of her for balance. The nauseous sensation gradually subsided and she attempted to stand. Vertigo forced her to her knees and her stomach lurched again.

Breathe, Jillian. Breathe.

She took deep breaths, trying to calm herself. The sick feeling finally abated and she sat against the trunk of a tree, exhausted.

The evergreens towering over her were larger than any she'd ever seen before, their heavy needles blocking a majority of the late afternoon light. Jillian didn't recognize her surroundings. The dense forest was unfamiliar. Where was she? How did she get here?

She had no clue.

After resting for what seemed like an eternity, she rose and took stock of her situation. The last thing she remembered was entering the train tunnel and falling. What had happened to her since then? Had she been wandering around with a case of amnesia or some such brain malady?

She removed one of the Nalgene bottles attached to her large fanny back and drank deeply. If she started walking, she was sure to find a road or something.

Jillian walked until she couldn't take another step. Though she wore sneakers, the rough terrain made her feet hurt. Glancing around, she saw a protected area under an overhanging ledge. If she rested for a little while, maybe she'd be able to continue. Eventually she was sure to find some sign of civilization.

She always kept a space blanket in her pack. Pulling out the silver cloth, she laid it on the ground. She wrapped her jacket snug and lay down, using her pack as a pillow. Exhaustion took hold and she fell asleep.

Thunder from a passing storm woke her a short time later. She looked around the clearing and noticed an odd indentation at the bottom of a nearby tree. If she looked at the scarred wood a certain way, the disfiguration appeared to her as a young boy's face.

Staring at the tree, Jillian watched as the face changed in the storm's unpredictable light. She thought she saw two distinctly different faces imbedded in the rough bark. The first, a boy with a pudgy nose and big sad eyes, and the second-

She must be dehydrated. Delusional. Imagining faces imbedded in a perfectly normal tree. Jillian huddled deeper into the cocoon her space blanket provided.

Then she saw a third face in the texture of the old oak. This one had a scarred forehead and a crooked mouth.

Smiling at her fanciful thoughts, Jillian dozed off again.

When she woke the second time, a chill had seeped into her bones. She sat up and pulled the space blanket more snuggly around her.

Looking at the tree in the changed lighting, another image of a face appeared. This tiny face had an elongated nose and wisps of blond hair dangled across its brow. Jillian chuckled to herself. She'd recently read a book about fairies and changelings and stolen children. She imagined that the hobgoblins lived in this tree. That stolen boys-

At the sound of a branch snapping, she jumped.

Standing before her was a gnarled little man. No more than four feet tall, he nearly blended into the surrounding woods. The peculiar clothes he wore matched the colors of the forest. And his dusty brown skin had wrinkles within wrinkles. But what really caught her attention was the unusual blue-green of his eyes and the pointy ears that stuck out from beneath his cap.

He reminded her of a sketch she'd seen once while babysitting her business partner Laurie's daughter. Little Allison MacLachlan loved the story of Rumpelstiltskin.

Jillian and the man stared at each other for several minutes in silence, neither saying anything. Finally, the strange fellow moved closer, reached his hand out and yanked on her blanket, almost pulling it away from her.

She stood up and held tight as she tried to pull the silver cloth away from him. "What do you think you're doing? Leave my blanket alone."

When the man let go, Jillian fell backward unto her rump. "Damn it. Who are you?"

He looked at her with narrowed eyes. "Be you a witch?"

"What? Of course not."

He walked around her in a wide circle. Then who are you to have spun such a plaid. You're nae one of the Sithichean. Are you?"

Her thoughts whirled. "A what?"

"A Sithichean, one of the fairies of these hills." He moved his arm to encompass the mountains that surrounded them.

Jillian ran her hand along the edge of her space blanket. "This isn't a plaid." She wrinkled her nose at the man. "Who are you?"

"That is none of your mind. My lad needs that plaid." He grabbed for her blanket again.

She pulled it close to her chest, refusing to let go. Jillian wasn't about to give up any of her few possessions to this crazy little man.

"I asked you who you are," she said, frustration heavy in the tone of her voice.

"You tell me first." His eyes dared her not to inform him.

"Oh, all right. I'm getting tired of this game. I'm Jillian O'Donnell." She looked around at the rough terrain. "I seem to be lost. Can you direct me to the nearest road?"

A mischievous look came to the man's eyes. "There are none, but if you give me that plaid, I'll tell you where you can find a game trail."

"Will that take me into town?"

"None here or about. Nearest village is three days walk over yonder ridge."

While she looked away, the man snatched her blanket and ran into the woods.

* * *

There wasn't a spot on Stephen MacEwen's black and blue body that didn't hurt. The battle had been intense and although he didn't think his wounds too serious, he ached everywhere.

His memory burned with the haunting sight of his dead monarch. Stephen had never expected events to unfold as they had. King James the IV of Scotland, dead on the field at Flodden along with so many of the kingdom's finest warriors.

After lying unconscious among the dead, Stephen had managed with the help of Munn, the MacLachlan clan brounie, to escape the chaos of the field and find shelter in the caves of the Gray Women. Stephen didn't remember how they'd managed the feat, but here he was, hidden away from those who'd wish him ill.

Stifling a groan, he shifted his weight to reach what Munn offered. "Where did this come from?" Stephen's teeth chattered as he wrapped the strange plaide around his upper body. Never had he seen a shiny silver plaide before.

Munn looked away.

An uncomfortable dread ran through Stephen. "Who did you steal this from?"

The brounie appeared contrite. "A lass."

Stephen glared at him. "Fetch her to me. But be careful. We dunnae want the English to follow her here."