The Betrayal of Maggie Blair - By Elizabeth Laird Page 0,35

at my long mouse-brown hair. It fell in hanks onto the floor.

They'll find it. They'll know what I've done.

I groped around and picked up what I could, swept the whole area, then carried the hair in my apron out to the kail yard. I dug a hole with my hands, dropped it in, and covered the place with earth.

I was thinking fast and well. I felt my way to the worm-eaten chest in the corner of the cottage, opened it, and found that my father's linen shirt, his leather belt, and his long trousers still lay inside. Granny had never sold them.

A drowned man comes back for his own, she'd always said.

Quickly, I took off my own clothes and put my father's on. They were far, far too big for me. I picked up the knife and sawed away at the trouser legs till they fell only to my ankles, then tied the belt tight around my waist to keep them up. I rolled up the sleeves of the shirt and wrapped my plaid around and over it all to keep everything in place. Then I laid the blanket from my bed on the ground, put my own gown on it, along with a supply of oatmeal tied into a cloth, and bound it all into a bundle. I tied it to the end of the stick Granny had always used to urge Blackie on her way, and I was ready.

I knew where to go. There were caves above Scalpsie Bay, a mile or so from the cottage. People were afraid to go there. Lights had been seen in the night, they said, and strange sounds. Unearthly beings were thought to live there—fairies and kelpies—who were best not disturbed. Granny had said that the fairies only used the biggest cave, and they were friendly enough as long as you left them alone. As for the others, the only beings who went there were strictly earthly, herself and Tam and their vagabond friends, and the music the good folk heard was only Tam's pipes and the party's drunken singing. At any rate, I wasn't afraid of the fairies. It was people of flesh and blood who were after me.

I stepped out of the cottage and closed the door behind me. I needed to hurry—I had to reach the caves before the early May dawn colored the sky, and people began to stir. I couldn't think about tomorrow or the day after. The first thing was to save my skin today.

To reach the caves, I had to edge around the side of the bay and strike up the lower slope to the cliffs above. The caves were tucked in up there, under the overhanging rock. It wasn't easy to find my way in the dark, but the edges of the waves rolling in onto the sand of the bay gave off a faint white glow, and by it I could at least judge my distance from the sea.

I was heading for the smallest cave. Cows and sheep wandered into the large ones for shelter sometimes, and I had no wish to be disturbed by a farm dog looking for them. In any case, the smallest cave looked out over the bay, and I'd be able to keep watch and see if anyone approached.

By the time I found the little cave, I was so tired that I didn't care anymore whether I was safe or not, as long as I could lie down and sleep. I unwrapped my bundle, lay down, and pulled the blanket around me. I must have fallen asleep at once.

***

I don't remember most of the dreams that came to me that night, though I know they were troubled and fearful. But the last one I can't ever forget. I dreamed that I was standing on the ramparts of Rothesay Castle, and I knew that I could fly. I was powerful and filled with evil. My lips drew back from my teeth in a Devil's grin, and my eyes grew wide, green, and slit-pupiled like a cat's. I knew that if I leaped from the ramparts and flew over the heads of the people staring up at me below, I'd become a true witch, a daughter of Satan. I didn't want to. I clung to the parapet behind me.

"No," I called out. "I'm not a witch! I want to be good! Let me come down!"

And then I fell, but I woke, crying, before I hit the ground. The sun had