#reversepolarity

WEEKLY FACT TWENTY TWO

Let's Play Roblox talks to each other virtually using Zoom! They were seriously ahead of their time. (Several times they show this off but for this specific case [SOURCE] )

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She had awoken before dawn. There was something in the atmosphere that made her feel on edge. He skin tingled as her head started to pound as if in rhythm with a drum.  Knowing that any further sleep was impossible she rose from her bed and stoked up the fire that had been banked overnight.

Water waiting in a small cauldron nearby was hung on a hook and placed over the heat to boil. Shivering she decided it was too cold to bear the outdoors yet so after relieving herself in her pot she hurriedly dressed and, once the water was hot enough, set about making some willow bark tea hoping it would assist with the throbbing in her head.

A scratch at her door made her raise her head from her work. Walking over she lifted the bar that had kept it secure overnight and opened it to let in her cat. The large grey tabby entered obviously pleased with itself as it placed a dead rat at her feet.

“Thank you Adso. Just what I needed today”. The cat sat preening with its accomplishment.  Grabbing a cloth she took the rat outside trying to think of where to hide it where her cat would not find it and return his present to her home.

As she left the house she was bombarded with screams. A buzzing sound filled her ears and all she knew was darkness.

* * * * *

The sun had risen high into the sky when she came back to herself. The screams had stopped and the buzzing had reduced to a gentle hum, a sound she lived with since childhood and had first come to this place. Shakily she got to her feet and once realising she was not going to collapse turned back to her croft. The door was open. That stunned her for the moment before remembering why she was outside in the first place.

Entering her home she was thankful to see no sign of either cat nor rat. Adso was probably off sulking somewhere as she had rejected his gift.  To her dismay the fire had gone out. Grey ash lay where red embers should have been. Nothing seemed to be going right for her this day. Huffing to herself she decided to go for a walk. She grabbed her basket. An essential accessory to her wanderings.

As she begun to walk and felt the sun on her face she began to sing. Then she heard a noise? Someone calling?  She stopped singing and turned to the voice.

“Hello. Can you help me? Hello? Hello”. A man was standing there. Close by there was another figure. The man removed his bonnet, red hair glistening asking formally, although a highland accent was detected. She turned thinking to run back home and locking herself in.

WEEKLY FACT TWENTY

Reverse_Polarity and InceptionTime baked a cake for Orca_Sparkles inspired off of the cake in Mario 64! It was so sweet (both literally and figuratively) to the point it almost brought her to tears! [SOURCE]

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A groan was heard coming from the bed. Sorcha quickly grabbed a bowl and reached Murtagh just in time for him to lose the contents of his stomach. A further groan followed and then a gruff voice requested, “whisky”.

“Water”, stated Sorcha firmly. “Whisky is no good for you in your current condition. You need fluids not alcohol”.

“Listen woman”, the gruff voice, “I ken what I need and it is whisky. Ye can take your water and shove it up your...”

“Sargent-Major!” James’ voice interrupted his warrant officers tirade. “Ye will do as ye are told. Now drink the water but slowly mind or you’ll be seeing it again”.

Humph was all the answer James had in reply but Murtagh did as he was ordered. Laying his head down on the pillow he glanced around the room. “Where are we? Last thing I remember there was an awful noise then blackness. Did some idiot try and blow us up? It was supposed to be an orienteering exercise not warfare. Where is everyone else?”

“That is a lot of questions sir. I will try to answer them as best I can. I was just telling James...”

“Jamie. Please call me Jamie. Whenever anyone calls me James I think I am in trouble”.

As I was telling...Jamie”, Sorcha smiled up at Jamie then turned back to Murtagh. “My name is Sorcha Ban-ogha of Raymond and at present you are in my home. I found you at the top of Craig Na Dun. You were unconscious. Jamie carried you here. There was no one else around”.

“For a lass with a Scottish name ye dinna sound Scots. Well no much anyway”. Murtagh obviously did not earn his rank in the diplomatic corps.

“I am not a Scot born”, replied Sorcha, “but I have been raised as one. I cannot remember much of my young life though I remember being called ‘Claire’. When my Seanair found me close to where I found you today he bought me here. His wife, Shona, raised me. She always spoke to me in the Gaelic. Her English was limited but she was kind. I called her ‘Seanmhair’, grandmother. Raymond was always disappearing. Going on his travels he said. He spoke to me in English and French”.

“Where is your grandfather now?” asked Jamie. “Perhaps he has a car that can take us to the nearest village? I need to contact my unit”. Now that Murtagh had recovered consciousness Jamie was eager to try and reunite with his men. He had seen no sign of a phone. Removing his walkie-talkie from his webbing he tried again to get a signal. Nothing.

Chapter 3

She moved towards him ignoring his question. Kneeling next to Murtagh she placed two of her fingers to his neck. Reassured by the steady thump she felt there she looked up at the red haired man.

“Lieutenant,” she paused, brow wrinkling as if making up her mind. “Are you able to help me move Mr. Fraser to my home, it is not far? I can assist him better there.”

“Aye, I can do that. Perhaps when we get there you may let me get in contact with my unit?”

She frowned at him. “At the moment I think it more important to get your friend away from the stones so he recover more quickly”. Leaving her basket where she had placed it on the ground she stood then stooped to try and get her arm under Murtagh’s armpit. Seeing what she was about James Fraser moved to his comrades other side and gently moving Murtagh’s position so that he was able to get his arm around him. He lifted Murtagh from the ground and over onto his shoulder. He grunted under the weight then indicated that she should lead the way.

Picking up her basket she started down the hill, thankful that the buzzing faded the further down she went. It did not take long to get to the croft and upon opening the door she indicated that James should enter and lay Murtagh on her bed.  She saw him stoop through her door and then heard him groan as he stood and pushed out his chest, arms back to relieve the strain his body had been under. It was then she realised his considerable height. He stood well over six feet. His head almost touching her ceiling.

He was a beautifully made man she thought, with piercing blue eyes that slanted like that of her cat. His hair was cropped short. Had he been ill she wondered but it was his clothes that made her look twice. He was dressed in a jacket and trousers that were made up of different shades of greens and browns. The bonnet that he had replaced on his head was black with some sort of emblem attached to it. He also wore some green material wrapped in various ways around his body. Realising she was staring she blushed and made to move to her fire.  She had forgotten it had gone out.

“Damn and blast,” she moaned as she headed to it. Kneeling she reached for some kindling feeling something cold and hard under her fingers. Her cat had kindly hidden his kill in amongst her firewood. Taking deep breaths she once again reached for the kindling avoiding the body of the rat then taking her flint tried to make a spark to light her fire.

“Have ye nay matched mistress?” His voice sounded close to her ear. The anglicised tones she had heard before in his speech disappearing making the highland lilt to his voice come to the fore.

“Matches? I apologise but I am unsure of what you speak.”

“Please let me help you with the fire. I will light it for you or perhaps you would prefer that I remove your friend outside indicating the rat. “Whichever you prefer miss.”

Taking a deep breath she stood and turning towards him she introduced herself. “My name is Sorcha,  ban-ogha of Raymond Beauchamp. Welcome to my home.”

He had been sick. The smell was acrid and burnt his throat. With a groan he tried to move away, the nausea overwhelming him as he tried to fight it. Eventually he was able to crawl a few feet before blissful darkness took him once again.

The next time he awoke he was able to sit up. Removing a canteen from his webbing he took a few sips of water before looking at his surroundings.

All was as he remembered. He had climbed the hill and been assaulted by the noise that emanated from…where? It was still there, subdued compared to before, but still there. A humming such as that made by bees in a hive. He swallowed, his head starting to ache, a feeling of…doom…making him shudder. He had to get away.  he managed to stumblingly get to his feet. He walked a few paces before noticing a body. As quickly as he was able he approached the individual checking the pulse point in the neck which, happily, was beating strongly. Moving the person into the recovery position he sat down to wait.

He wondered where everyone else was. They were on exercise. They should have been looking for them by now. Feeling about his person he found his radio. Pressing the ‘talk’ button he waited for the noise he knew should indicate he was ‘live’ to speak. Nothing. The radio was dead. All he could do was wait until his companion woke and then they would attempt to re-join their unit.

He was pulled from his thoughts by the sound of someone singing. He shouted, “hello” and the singing stopped. He shouted again. ‘Can you help me? Hello. Hello’.

A woman came into view. She wore a long woolen skirt and an off-white shirt. She was carrying a roughly woven basket. Her brown curly hair tumbled around her shoulders but what he noticed were her eyes. They were the colour of very fine whisky.

As he came to his feet she moved backwards and began to turn as if to run. He removed the beret from his head, red hair glinting in the sun. ‘Please stop’, he almost begged, ‘I mean you no harm’.

She turned back towards him. Smiling he introduced himself.