“You must face your destiny! You can’t run away!”
Goose bumps spread over my whole body. I looked for a way out. In front of me, there was only the icy water, and behind me the terrifying apparition. But when I turned around again, she had disappeared. Where had she gone? I scanned the rocky, bare landscape. She had vanished. Relieved, I breathed deeply and sank wearily to my knees as a cold blast of air came down from the mountains.
That’s when I woke up.
The flight crew was preparing the plane for landing, and we all fastened our seat belts. I shook my head, trying to clear the haunting images. I hadn’t even set foot in this country full of superstitions and ghost stories, and already my imagination was playing tricks on me. Probably because I was so exhausted.
By the time I got off the bus in Inverness, dusk was falling. The driver lugged my gray suitcase out of the baggage compartment, and with a curt nod he jumped right back on and rumbled off, leaving me in a cloud of exhaust fumes.
It didn’t feel like summer here. It was cloudy and cold. It had rained for half the drive, and there were puddles on the road. I smoothed my hair back under my Wilmington City Ruff Rollers cap, put on the warmest jacket I had, and tried to get oriented. On the other side of the road was the tourist welcome center where I was supposed to meet my host family. I grabbed my bag and dragged it behind me.
Whoosh!
The suitcase was torn out of my hand, and I was knocked flat on the pavement. I had no idea what had just happened. I heard tires squealing and the loud roar of a motor, and quickly, I stood up.
The other side of the road was empty. About a block away, a biker stopped his black motorcycle and turned around to look at me. A man? Yes, a man, I thought. It was hard to tell with the helmet on. When the driver saw that I’d survived what had almost been a terrible accident, he turned around and raced off at full speed. All I could do was swear at him, but there’s no way he could have heard me.
My knee was really sore. I guess I must have banged it when I fell. My favorite hat was lying in a puddle, and my suitcase was in the middle of the road.
Weren’t there any people here, I wondered. Why wasn’t anybody helping me? If that biker had killed me, how long would it have taken for someone to notice?
My mood was getting darker by the second: first, the long journey; then that spooky dream; and now this near collision. I picked up my hat, shook off the water, and rolled my suitcase onto the curb.
Just then, a dark-green Land Rover pulled up next to me.
“Samantha Watts?”
A nice-looking red-haired man in his late thirties stuck his head out of the car window. He smiled at me, and then looked puzzled when he saw my wet pants. He jumped out and lifted my suitcase onto the backseat. Then he stretched out his hand.
“I’m Roy Leary. Sorry that I was late. I hope you haven’t been waiting long?”
“No, sir, I… uh…”
“Aye, that’s all right then. What happened to you, lassie?” Roy pointed at my pants. He opened the passenger door and offered a hand to hoist me onto the high-up seat.
I felt totally disoriented. This is what a kidnapping must feel like, I thought. I was being taken somewhere by a complete stranger, driving along a lonely street in an unfamiliar place a long way from home.
Roy was talking during the forty-minute trip, but I can’t remember answering any of his questions. Now and then, he pointed at things through the wet windshield. As I thawed out in the warm car, I started to feel surprisingly good, considering my exhaustion and the sore knee.
“So this mystic landscape of the Highlands has made us a very superstitious people, aye,” Roy explained. “The fog, the bare cliffs, the darkness—it’s all part of our heritage and legends. They lead the people here to a deep belief in magic. Dwarves, giants, fairies, and teine biorach—that’s like a will-o’-the-wisp in English. Stories about such things have been part of our lives for such a long time that we do believe in them.”
Roy shrugged, almost as if wanting to apologize.
I wasn’t sure if he would laugh at me, but the atmosphere in the car was perfect for strange revelations, so I hesitantly told Roy about my dream. When I’d finished, Roy nodded his head slowly and then turned to look at me.
“Many people come to this country without ever understanding it. Others only believe what they can prove.” His voice sounded so serious, as if he were reading from an ancient text. “My wish for you is that you learn to understand Scotland, its beliefs, its history, and above all, its people. So don’t be afraid of your dreams. Maybe dreams show the people their destiny.”
I had to force myself to look out the window again. It was hardly possible to distinguish anything now. In the darkness, I thought about what he had said. My destiny? No, thanks—I was there on a mission to avoid my life back in the States. I wanted things to be absolutely harmless. No boys. No cousins. No dark nights at the lake. I was not intending to fulfill any destiny!