Intrigued, he pulled the shirt up a little more and froze when his eyes landed on the bare chest above the bandage. He had seen that the Lowlander was scrawny, but he should still have had some muscles; but the pectorals that he saw were not swollen as they should have been. They weren't bulging, not even a little. That's what alerted him. He hadn't felt the relief of the muscles under his fingers, just that of the ribs. The ribcage was unusually narrow compared to its size. The skin was light, too light for a boy who should have trained shirtless in the use of weapons. Even though the Lowlanders were more cautious and dressed in English style, the young warriors in training had to spend hours training or performing various physical labors for the good of the community. Another detail intrigued him: the nipples were lighter than they should be. Instead of being brown, they were pink and larger than he expected. In addition, they surmounted a slight, very localized protuberance under the areola, a small lump the vision of which triggered an alarm signal in his mind.

" No ! It's impossible ! It looks like..."

Unable to accept the idea that had just formed in his mind, he reached out and touched the skin with the tip of his index finger. The softness of the silky skin made him shiver. Not daring to believe it, he gently passed his thumb over the pink bud which grew erect under his touch. He pressed a little more and insisted on the contour of the nipple and felt like a lump under his finger. Then he no longer had any doubts and quickly withdrew his fingers.

"A nighneag! She's just a kid! She must be barely twelve or thirteen years old!"

He had before his eyes a girl who was emerging from childhood and whose breasts were just beginning to form. Stunned by what he had just discovered, Cailean remained completely still next to the inanimate girl. After a few minutes, he shook himself before pulling the shirt over Mary's stomach, his mind in disarray.

"Why did this girl attack me? Unless... Yes, that must be it! She must have been afraid of me and believed that I meant harm to her. She wanted to defend herself against me. But why is she dressed like a boy? And what is she doing running around the countryside without protection? Which clan does she belong to? What am I going to do with her?"

The sett of the stranger's tartan meant nothing to him. It was not the colors of the Carmichaels, the Bruces or the Maitlands nor that of the Ramsays, the Finlaysons, the Leslies or the Kerrs. In addition, she did not have a plant badge on her cap or even a brooch to give her a clue. This girl must surely belong to a small clan in the Lowlands, a clan he did not know. Undecided, Cailean decided to revive her so he could question her and decide what to do. He patted her cheeks to bring her back to her senses. The stranger moaned before blinking. When she finally opened her eyes painfully, Cailean held her breath. Those eyes ! This hair ! This girl reminded him of someone, but he couldn't say who.

"I've already met her. I'm sure of it! But where ? When ?"

As soon as his vision adjusted and his irises focused on him, he saw fear grip her. With a sudden movement, she pushed him away and crawled back. He wanted to hold her back.

"Hold on ! Don't be afraid !"

Mary jumped to her feet and took a quick look around her.

"Thank God he's alone! Maybe I have a chance to escape him."

"What's your name, little one? Which clan do you belong to?"

"Lord, if he recognizes me or if he learns that I am a MacLean, it will be the end of me! His clan will want to use me to reach mine. I have to escape!"

Instinctively, Mary raised one arm in front of her to hide the lower part of her face while searching with her eyes for the best path to escape.

Seeing her distraught look, and her defensive stance – as if she expected him to hit her – Cailean tried to reassure her. As he approached her, he spoke to her in a gentle voice:

"Fear nothing, little one. I don't mean you any harm. Just tell me your name so I can take you back to your family."

Destabilized by the sound of his deep voice and his gaze which kept her under his influence, Mary did not realize that he was approaching her surreptitiously. When the warrior grabbed her hand, she felt a shiver run down her spine. Her survival instinct took over. With a sudden movement, she raised her knee and violently hit young MacDonald's private parts. A low groan and the release of pressure on his wrist told her that her knee had reached its target. With a violent twist, she freed her arm from the hand that was still gripping it and turned on her heel, fleeing at full speed while her adversary, bent double, sank to his knees on the ground covered with humus.

Mary ran breathlessly, zigzagging between the trees. When she emerged from the forest, she continued running despite the burning in her chest and legs. She turned around several times to check that Cailean MacDonald wasn't chasing her, but she didn't slow down her pace. She didn't stop until she entered the Lindsay camp. Once sheltered under the tent she shared with Fillan and Aileas, she collapsed onto her pallet, trembling. She struggled to find her breath. When that was done, she drank some mead and lay down to think about what she should do.

A searing burn in her ribs pulled her from her thoughts. She lifted her shirt and looked at the bandage. Her mouth dry with apprehension, she unwound the bandage and removed the tampon. The fabric stuck to the wound and she proceeded carefully while wincing in pain. A slanted cut cut across her ribs, just under her breast. The blade had slipped on the bones, because the wound was irregular. It started from her left side and stopped just at heart level. It was not straight, but had a small recess towards the top. Hollowed out on the side, it was thinner near the heart. The slash looked like steps on a staircase. Blood was still seeping from the wound and staining her skin. Mary hastened to clean it and applied a dab of the healing balm that she always kept in her things. She then isolated the wound with a new clean cloth pad, which she held in place by tying the strip cut from her shirt over it.

Despite the pain, she did not want her uncle or aunt to learn of her misfortune. There were less than two days left before the end of the interclan meeting, she had to hold out until her return to Edzell Castle where she could have her wound better treated by the healer. Fenella had taken a liking to her and decided to pass on her knowledge to her in her spare time. Mary knew she could count on the old woman's discretion. Fortunately, because if unfortunately her uncle David or her aunt Elizabeth knew of her escapade, she would be in big trouble and would receive a severe punishment. But her injury was not her only worry. She was more concerned about the warrior MacDonald.

"He looked after me, he knows I'm not a boy! And what's more, he saw my face! He will recognize me the next time we meet!"

It didn't take Mary long to make a decision. She had been very imprudent in spying on her brother's former friend. He was no longer the nice guy who had impressed her eight years ago. He was now a man, a warrior, and worst of all, an enemy of his clan. She had to disappear before he discovered her identity. She had no choice, she had to hole up in her tent until the gathering was over.

He didn't have to find her. He couldn't let him learn she was Chief MacLean's daughter.

Never.