Page 45 of Sins of a Scot
Thankfully for her, Owen could not know what was currently going through her mind, and when he had finished, he hurriedly stood up, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. Taking her hand, he pulled her to stand beside him.
“Can ye walk?”
“Never mind that. We need tae dae something. Ye’re bound tae have poison in yer body now. I cannae lose ye, Owen. Dae something.”
He shook his head vehemently. “I’ll be fine.”
He ran toward his horse, and after mounting it, trotted toward her. Leaning down, he wrapped a huge hand around her arm, and without any seeming effort at all, flung her onto the horse behind him. Without another word, he flicked the reins, yelled at the horse, and headed straight down the hill.
“I need a healer,” he yelled as he entered the group of houses at the start of the village. “I need a healer now.”
A woman came hurrying out of her house, wiping her hands on her apron. “What is it?” she cried. “What’s the matter?”
“Me friend has been bitten by a snake. I need a healer now.”
The woman looked aghast, and even as more people hurried out of their houses, she excitedly pointed further down the road. “Carry on going,” she cried. “Go right through the village. The healer’s cottage is on the left. The last one ‘afore ye leave.”
“Thank ye,” Owen said.
Again, he yelled at the horse, flicked the reins, and thundered past the shocked faces that all gawked up at him as he continued. The horses’ hooves clattered on the cobblestone street, echoing against the surrounding walls of the houses and buildings on either side. And a little after a minute later, the cottage came into view.
Upon reaching it, Owen hardly waited for the horse to stop, and leaping from the beast, he immediately turned and grabbed Iseabail in his arms.
“We need help,” he cried, running towards the cottage, carrying Iseabail whose hands were wrapped around his thick neck.
The door to the cottage flew open, and a tall man with white hair came outside, a frown lining his brow.
“She’s been bitten by a snake,” Owen declared, walking past the man into his cottage without waiting for an invitation. “Help her, please.”
“Through there,” the older man said hurriedly. “Yes, there,” he said, as Owen looked back to see the direction he ought to go.
They ventured into a room lined with shelves and shelves of brown bottles, clearly filled with tonics and tinctures.
“Put her on the bed,” the healer demanded.
Owen slowly lowered Iseabail down, and hurriedly looked back at the man. “Please, dae something.”
“He needs help, too,” Iseabail cried. “He sucked the venom from me leg.”
The healer looked from one to the other, and nodding, he hurried over to a shelf before lifting several bottles down.
“What did it look like?” he asked, tearing pieces of cloth into squares. “The snake. What color was it?”
“It had a zigzag on its back,” Iseabail replied. “It was brown, I think,”
“An adder,” the healer concluded. “Ye’re lucky. While it’s very painful, the poison willnae kill ye. That being said, nor is it very pleasant, so yer quick thinking,” he looked at Owen, “may well have just saved yer friend here an awful lot o’ pain.”
Iseabail gazed at Owen, who only now, seemed to be calming down from his earlier determination to get her help. She smiled at him, even though her leg remained sore, and he smiled back.
“Me own personal hero,” she said.
“Och, I hardly think?—”
“Indeed, I would agree,” the healer said.
Iseabail couldn’t help smile even wider when she noticed Owen’s discomfort. She hadn’t taken him for the bashful type, but then, she supposed she had never seen him in such a heroic moment.
“Now, lie still and let me see tae ye,” the healer said, dabbing something onto one of the cloths he had readied.
