His body felt uncomfortable, as if constricted in an iron vest. In his mind, he remembered the rustle of the darkness, as if he was caught in a dark forest with no way out. But who could he call? His father? Despite all the food, toys and riches that Dougal MacCallan provided him, the one thing that Adair had never received from his father was time. In his desperation, Adair had once stolen into Dougal's study to get his father's attention. But from where he hid under the table, he saw Dougal MacCallan bring in two ladies he recognized from the village. He had popped out then, only to receive disapproving looks from the buxom looking females, and an irate father dragging him out.
After the lashing he got that day, Adair MacCallan told himself he needed no one. Why should he? His father had always stressed that he should trust no one, and rely on no one.
Yet within the dark shadows that haunted his subconcious, Adair wished he had someone he could call.
---
"The fever's getting ter his head."
Her voice held obvious threads of concern, discernible as her eyes never left the fidgeting, still sleeping Adair. The sun had just started to rise not too long ago, and the Keep was beginning to awaken around them. For Amhuinn and Hammond however, it had been a long  night. They took turns napping and sponging down the young boy, but just as Amhuinn was beginning to think the fever was beginning to break, Adair had started tossing and flipping his head. No amount of soothing or sponging could stop the young four-year old from murmuring words they could not catch, yet it was quite obvious that the boy was distressed.
"What do ye suggest we do?" Hammond asked, quite at a loss. Gillian had never faced such serious illnesses when she was younger, and back then they still had their old healer. Hammond considered himself lucky he never had to solve such issues after their healer had gone, but now he cursed his inability to provide any form of assistance.
"Dunk him in ice water. Tis the fastest way to prevent his temperature from spiking." Amhuinn immediately decided. She almost stumbled as she moved forward towards Adair, had Hammond not caught her.
"Careful lassie. I told ye, the lad be needing his mither."
Despite her anxiousness for her son, Amhuinn found her heart skipping a beat when she faced his intense eyes, the rugged look that came only after a night of being deprived of sleep, and the messy red locks made messier from him sleeping face down on his arms on the side of the bed.
"Could ye get an ice tub prepared?" she managed breathe out, straightening up on her feet and hurrying over to Adair, hoping that Hammond didn't think she was out of breathe from him. Her heart rate only relaxed as she heard the door closing behind her.
Gathering the small four-year old in her arms, Amhuinn marveled at how heavy he had become since the last time she carried him as an infant. She felt a pang of sadness at just how much she had missed of his growing years. She often wondered if he had taken his first steps, whether he was eating well, or what kind of likes and dislikes he had developed as he grew up.
Hoisting him up over her shoulder, she made it down two flights of stairs, wincing as her injured ankle starting shooting pain when the weight was suddenly lifted away from her. In her surprise, Amhuinn only looked up in shock. The surprise dissipated however, when she recognize Tristan's smiling form.
"Laird MacKenzie sent me ter look fer ye. He had a feeling ye wouldna be able ter carry Adair down by yerself." Tristan mentioned, hoisting Adair up in his arms and looking down at the boy, a worried look furrowing his brow. "He isna getting better, is he?"
"He will." Amhuinn replied, refusing to back down. A stubborn line set her lips, as she started to make her way down with determination in her steps. "I'll make sure he will."
---
It was a rocky cliff he was climbing down from. Wait, how did he even get here? His dirty blond hair matted against his forehead, rivulets of sweat making a rare appearance in the Highland chill, from all the exertion his young four-year old body was going through. How did he even get here anyway? Adair didn't know, but what he did know was that somehow going down seemed to be a bumpy ride.
Where was his father? If he called out, would Dougal MacCallan respond?
Adair didn't know, but what he did know was that his upbringing was definitely not like anyone else's he knew. The people in Kincaid lands did not have much to live on. Yet somehow when he occasionally peered out a turret window, they managed to smile. He often wondered why the lady in the crofter's cottage in the far western corner of the lands did not eat, when it was obvious she was hungry. Yet, she gave all the meat she had and most of the vegetables to her two daughters, leaving herself with not much. Was that what mother's did?
Adair wouldn't know, since he didn't have a mother in the first place.
Why was it so cold? The cliffs felt rough against his palms, and his body ached everywhere. Had he been out here long? The roar of a river at the bottom rang in his ears, yet everywhere else around him was covered in clouds as far as his eyes could see. How did he end up here again? Somehow he knew he had to make it to the other side... but how?
Left with no choice but to press forward, he gripped the cliff walls harder, and took a step forward.
The next thing he knew, the ground crumbled beneath him, and the roar of the river surrounded him, as cold shocked his system. Adair could do nothing but attempt to find his bearings, as his world spun around him.
---
"Give me the thickest sheet ye can find!"
Hammond found himself continuously surprised by how a slight girl like Amhuinn could be the owner of such a commanding voice that would put his best soldiers at shame. He was not surprised when his men jumped to follow her orders, and would've watched her in wonder had the boy in his arms not suddenly start squirming. All his attention was directed instead to Adair, who started shivering the second he brought him out of the ice cold water. With his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, he felt his fingers turning blue from the cold, unable to resist when Tamhas pushed forward to take Adair from his arms.
Amhuinn wasted no time in wrapping the woolen sheets he assumed Griselda had pulled off his bed, along with a sheepskin rug that seemed like it previously lay upon the armchair in his room. By the time the blonde healer was done bundling her son, his shivering seemed to have settled down. "The yarrow tea, bring it here."
Gillian bustled in, a steaming earthen mug pressed into Amhuinn's outstretched hand. With a gentle tip of her wrist, she dribbled the tea down his throat. Relief flooded her face when Adair's lips turned a shade of pink, and his eyes blearily blinked open. "W-where am I?" his weakened voice asked.
"Ootside, Adair. How do ye feel?" Amhuinn asked, unable to resist running her hand through his damp blond hair, still holding his body close to hers.
"It... hurts." he softly muttered. "My whole ... body. Dry... my throat... and my head."
"Here, Laird. Dry off a'fore ye catch a cold yerself." Tamhas's voice surprised him by his side. Hammond took the offered sheet, and asked.
"Connor told me ye will join us in the lists."
Tamhas nodded. "I will, once I'm sure my sister doesnae need me help."
"Leave be, Tamhas." Tristan stepped forward, laying a hand on the blond male's shoulder. "Nae worry, I will help ye sister carry the lad abovestairs. Go ahead, Connor be waiting."
Hammond found himself surprised at how Tristan was eager to help, but it seems that Tamhas had managed to find himself a place in the hearts of the MacKenzie warriors, for Tristan seemed to genuinely want to help a brother. The fact was further proven when Amhuinn did not question as Tristan extended his arms for the bundled form of Adair, who had fallen asleep again.
"Did the bath help?" Hammond asked, sidling up to Amhuinn's side.
It was as if she didn't even notice his presence by her side as she nodded gently. "In a way, it did. He doesnae feel hot to the touch any longer, but the fever has ter break, else he still remains in danger."
The worry was evident in her tone of voice, a strained tone that hit a chord in Hammond's heart. "What else do ye need?"
"I've tried all I can." Amhuinn responded in a defeated tone, turning to Hammond with a despondent look that made him eager to collect her in his arms and fight all her demons. "I dinna know what else can I do."
Hammond took a second to concoct a reply. Eventually, he reached out and gripped her worrying fingers in his, trying to ignore the warmth that helped more then any drying cloth could. "We'll do anything, Amhuinn. I'll go oot with Tristan ter gather more herbs ye need so we can feed them ter the lad throughoot the night."
Amhuinn had frozen when Hammond grabbed her fingers, and had little choice but to look in his warm irises as he spoke. A feeling swelled in her chest, one she found reluctant to identify, and struck a chord of fear in her. Ever since Dougal MacCallan had stolen her maidenhood and she had had Adair, Amhuinn had always assumed her son would be enough for her. She had never dreamed she would feel the way young girls would only dream about for their future, let alone wanted it. Besides, if feeling that way for a man would equate to marriage and engaging in that distasteful act that Dougal MacCallan had put her off for the rest of her life, Amhuinn had sworn she'd rather never wed.
Hammond MacKenzie however, was ruining her plans. And Amhuinn's anger, she was realizing, was directed more to herself for actually allowing herself to feel the way she did.
"Will it help, lassie?" he asked, in the baritone of his that made her curl up to her toes. How could she resist it when he earnestly did all he could? Amhuinn was taken by surprise everyday by the degree of which Hammond MacKenzie would go to for the ones he chose to protect. To be considered part of the ones he extended protection to... her heart softened everyday to him. To a point that Amhuinn no longer wanted to fight it.
She nodded, and gave her first smile in days,delighted when Hammond mirrored it with his own. "I dinna know, but it willna hurt ter try."
He smiled, and released her hand to head out to do as he had said. Amhuinn found herself mourning his grip, the warmth upon her fingers. At the same time, another question popped in her head. He obviously protected her and Adair now as he did the rest of his clan. But while she found herself infatuated with everything about the clan's laird and his selflessness regarding his friends and family... what if he only considered them part of his clan, and nothing else?
---
The night chill seeped through the granite bricks that made up its walls, as the moon hung in its full form among the drifting dark clouds at night. Stars played among themselves, with the soft wind rustling the forest, the sound that slowly roused Adair from his sleep. His body no longer felt as painful as it had over the past few days. Where was he? His eyes blearily opened, taking a while before his vision cleared enough for him to take in his surroundings. From his bed, he could grab a glimpse of the opened window, the curtains swaying in the gentle breeze. Did he wet his bed? Why was it so damp?
Turning his head towards the right, Adair winced as his head spun from the movement, giving out a low moan. The sound apparently stirred someone on his right, for he felt a shift of a body. Curious upon who it was, he forced himself to turn further. Finally, he managed to get a glimpse of a blonde head lying on his bedside on her arms, the hair splayed across. Heavy breathing made him glance further. The hulking body of the Laird he recognised from his hazy memories. What has happened over the past few days? His forehead furrowed, but no matter how much he tried to wrack his mind, Adair could not seem to remember more than bleary memories. Was he dunked in a huge tub of water? He remembered it was cold... but when was that?
"Uhhh..." he groaned. His throat was dry to an extent that his voice was gone from how parched it was. He needed water. Where did one get some water around here?
Pushing himself to sit up, as his head slowed down, Adair began to recognise the figure that slept by his bedside. The woman who called herself his mother. Adair had been hard pressed to believe her at first. Dougal MacCallan had brought him up to not fraternise with the servants and villagers, and as such, it was Adair's habit to look down upon anyone else that his father did not deem worthy. Yet... here, this lady had, from the looks of it, gave up days of proper sleep and rest to ensure his wellbeing. From what he could see, sleeping in her position was definitely not comfortable, yet there she was. Perhaps... was she really his mother? And did all mothers do this? Adair didn't know. But he suddenly realised he'd really like to know the feeling of having one's mother with him.
But he was parched.
That human need pushed itself to the forefront of his mind, directing Adair to the need for water. Now where would one get one? His limbs felt foreign to him, but the young boy figured that to get any form of relief from his need for liquid, he was going to somehow walk.
Gingerly pushing the sheets away so he wouldn't disturb the lady by his bedside (what was her name again? Adair realized with horror that he never bothered listening), he placed his bare foot on the cold floor, and hissed at how cold it was. A shiver ran up his spine as the cold wind picked up, the thin tunic and pants he wore not doing much to help, especially with it being damp from what he now knew was his own sweat, and not from him wetting the bed as he suspected. The blue eyes looked around and lighted up when they spotted a deerskin cloak draped across a chair. Padding softly towards the chair on his way out, Adair grabbed and pulled at it, pulling it around his shoulders and giving one last look at the sleeping figure of both the Laird and the female, before heading out of the door.
"Now.... if this Keep is anything like Kincaid's, the kitchen should be at the bottom. Not connected to the castle, so..." Adair muttered to himself, getting his bearings before heading down the stairs. He went down two flights, and eventually arrived at a hallway. Through the doorway opposite him, he could see a large hall. "Which means that's the dining hall... so the kitchen should be that way."
Taking a right, he padded down the hallway, his footsteps echoed in the empty hallways of the sleeping Keep. The sconces which had been left burning had long since extinguished itself. Adair was left first streaks of sunlight that had begun to emerge to guide him. The creak of the wooden door as he pushed it seemed particularly loud in the silence. He cringed at the loud sound, somehow afraid that it would wake people up.
In his four years of life, Adair had yet to be alone for such an extended period of time. Especially with him being in a foreign keep, the young boy stepped gingerly forward out into the grassy area. His blue eyes spotted a building about 20 feet away, and guessing that it was the kitchen where he sought for water, the blond boy happily proceeded forward.
But he had gone no more then ten steps, when he suddenly found the ground stolen away from him, as he was yanked into mid-air, and whisked away.