toweling to dry herself. The air was so cool against her heated skin that it took her breath away, setting her to shivering until her teeth chattered uncontrollably. The feel of her clothes sticking against her damp skin did little to improve her mood, which was becoming darker by the minute. She was overdue at home, and would have to hurry if she were to return to the keep before the evening meal was served, and her absence was too obvious to be overlooked.
Stepping from the shelter, Catriona realized immediately that the weather had taken a dramatic turn for the worse. Strong winds whipped around her, teasing strands of hair loose from her braid. Impatiently, she tucked the stray hair behind her ears, gradually making her way along the bracken path. The sky was grey and threatening, with heavy clouds blocking the sun’s warming rays. Catriona realized that she would have to hurry home, or risk a thorough soaking when the clouds, heavy with rain, finally broke.
As she briskly made her way into the valley, idly contemplating what excuse she would give her father, a faint, plaintive cry reached her ears. Catriona cocked her head to the side, straining to hear who – or what – might have made the noise, and where it had come from. The powerful wind made it difficult to trace the origin of the sound, but Catriona followed it as closely as she could. As she left the path behind her, Catriona was torn between her desire to return home and her need to offer assistance. She knew she risked being caught in the rain, but her conscience would not allow her to ignore the cries of distress.
Catriona slowly traced the sound to the edge of the valley, finding it difficult to follow the infrequent cries. She had not gone far when the rains began to fall, slowly at first, but gradually with greater force. In little time she was soaked to the skin by the downpour. Her boots slowed her progress as she continually fought to keep her balance on the wet, soggy grass. With a frustrated sigh, she tucked the herbs she had gathered in the pockets of her apron, holding the basket above her head for a small measure of protection from the rain.
Though the cries had grown consistently weaker, Catriona’s persistence was rewarded when she stumbled upon a small cluster of gorse and trees near the edge of the winding stream. An exhausted ewe lay in the shelter of the pine trees, struggling to give birth. Her cries had stopped when she had heard Catriona approach, and the fear that was reflected in the animal’s eyes gripped her heart. Approaching slowly, she whispered soft, soothing words to calm the ewe as she knelt down beside the struggling animal.
A crash of thunder boomed through the cooling, moist air, causing the skin on Catriona’s arms to stand on end. Within seconds the sky was awash with flashes of bright lightening. Distracted by her concern for the animal, Catriona hadn’t noticed how quickly the storm had progressed. The wind tore at her clothes, which were now plastered uncomfortably to her skin. Silently, she cursed her lack of foresight. She’d brought nothing to shelter her from the rain or the cold, and without a horse, it would be a long, cold walk back to Boyne Castle. Stubbornly, she pushed these distracting thoughts from her mind, focusing her attention instead on solving the dilemma at hand.
Already, there was little fight left in the frightened animal. The ewe had not tried to elude Catriona as she had drawn nearer, clearly too exhausted to attempt to flee. Knowing she could delay no longer, Catriona resigned herself to the task of trying to shift the lamb into the proper position for birthing. She knew something was preventing the animal from descending further down the birth canal – perhaps it was in the breech position, or a leg may have been twisted. No matter what the cause of the stalemate, there were no other choices open to her.
The ewe still
Stepping from the shelter, Catriona realized immediately that the weather had taken a dramatic turn for the worse. Strong winds whipped around her, teasing strands of hair loose from her braid. Impatiently, she tucked the stray hair behind her ears, gradually making her way along the bracken path. The sky was grey and threatening, with heavy clouds blocking the sun’s warming rays. Catriona realized that she would have to hurry home, or risk a thorough soaking when the clouds, heavy with rain, finally broke.
As she briskly made her way into the valley, idly contemplating what excuse she would give her father, a faint, plaintive cry reached her ears. Catriona cocked her head to the side, straining to hear who – or what – might have made the noise, and where it had come from. The powerful wind made it difficult to trace the origin of the sound, but Catriona followed it as closely as she could. As she left the path behind her, Catriona was torn between her desire to return home and her need to offer assistance. She knew she risked being caught in the rain, but her conscience would not allow her to ignore the cries of distress.
Catriona slowly traced the sound to the edge of the valley, finding it difficult to follow the infrequent cries. She had not gone far when the rains began to fall, slowly at first, but gradually with greater force. In little time she was soaked to the skin by the downpour. Her boots slowed her progress as she continually fought to keep her balance on the wet, soggy grass. With a frustrated sigh, she tucked the herbs she had gathered in the pockets of her apron, holding the basket above her head for a small measure of protection from the rain.
Though the cries had grown consistently weaker, Catriona’s persistence was rewarded when she stumbled upon a small cluster of gorse and trees near the edge of the winding stream. An exhausted ewe lay in the shelter of the pine trees, struggling to give birth. Her cries had stopped when she had heard Catriona approach, and the fear that was reflected in the animal’s eyes gripped her heart. Approaching slowly, she whispered soft, soothing words to calm the ewe as she knelt down beside the struggling animal.
A crash of thunder boomed through the cooling, moist air, causing the skin on Catriona’s arms to stand on end. Within seconds the sky was awash with flashes of bright lightening. Distracted by her concern for the animal, Catriona hadn’t noticed how quickly the storm had progressed. The wind tore at her clothes, which were now plastered uncomfortably to her skin. Silently, she cursed her lack of foresight. She’d brought nothing to shelter her from the rain or the cold, and without a horse, it would be a long, cold walk back to Boyne Castle. Stubbornly, she pushed these distracting thoughts from her mind, focusing her attention instead on solving the dilemma at hand.
Already, there was little fight left in the frightened animal. The ewe had not tried to elude Catriona as she had drawn nearer, clearly too exhausted to attempt to flee. Knowing she could delay no longer, Catriona resigned herself to the task of trying to shift the lamb into the proper position for birthing. She knew something was preventing the animal from descending further down the birth canal – perhaps it was in the breech position, or a leg may have been twisted. No matter what the cause of the stalemate, there were no other choices open to her.
The ewe still
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