Page 68 of The Secret of Drulea Cottage
Briony wrinkled her nose at the memory.
“Stop, please!”
’Tis coming from the beach!
She scurried down to the shore to see what was happening and was horrified at what she found: a wee lad crouched against the rocks, naked but for a gray piece of clothing wrapped around his waist. Half a dozen bairns stood taunting and throwing rocks at him as he wailed. Briony recognized them all—Alastair Oliver, St. John and Gareth Peterson, Elspet Milligan, Adaira Stubbins, and Ewan Sherwin.
“Stop! Stop!” she shouted, but they couldn’t hear her over the boy’s cries.
Briony darted her eyes about, hoping she would see an adult who could fix this, but no one was there. She garnered up her courage and dashed toward the group.
Just as she reached them, though, a foot shot out in front of her, causing her face to collide with the hard sand.
More laughter ensued, but this time, it was directed at her. Briony pushed herself up from the ground and scowled at the other children. “Leave him alone!”
“Make us!” bellowed Alastair Oliver, the one she was sure had tripped her.
She glared up at him.He has always been rude to me, but now he’s picking on a stranger? That’s just too far.
Briony shoved him, knocking the taller boy to the ground. Then she stumbled closer to the wee lad, who was trembling in fear. She grabbed his arm and ran a few steps, but the other children chased them.
There’s no way to outrun them. Unless…
Briony stopped in front of some rocks and spun around, positioning the boy behind her body.
She watched as the others drew nearer, a plan forming in her mind, but then she realized something.My shoes are gone! Did I lose them on the sand?
Briony took a wobbly step back, hoping no one would see her toes, but then she glanced back at the boy. He was roughly her age, but he seemed younger because of his terror.
He needs me.I have to do what I can to help him.She stuck out her chin with as much determination as she could.
“Can you make a run fer it while I distract them?”
The boy raised his eyes, black as night, to hers for a moment and nodded. “Aye, thank you.” His voice sounded hoarse, as though he hadn’t spoken in a long time.
“Stop it, all o’ you! This is wrong!” Briony exclaimed as she turned back to the bullies.
She felt the boy slipping away behind her, but she didn’t dare look. She had to make sure the other children kept their attention on her long enough for him to escape.
“He’s a trow! He deserves it!” Alastair shouted. The laird’s thirteen-year-old son loved to intimidate and belittle others whenever possible, a character trait he had in common with his parents.
“He’s no trow! He’s just as human as I am!”
“What do you know? You don’ even have a da’!” Elspet sneered.
“And she’s na human anyway! Just look at her feet!” Adaira Stubbins added, pointing at Briony’s webbed toes.
The others all gasped and stared; even Alastair stumbled back as fear set in over the group.
Briony narrowed her eyes to slits, trying not to let the words get to her. “O’ course I’m human! My feet are just a wee bit different. They’re special—”
Adaira scoffed. “They’re na special—they’reugly!There’s something wrong with you, and I know what ’tis! Yer a changeling!”
Briony drew in a sharp breath. Mum was right.How could she call me that?
To call someone a changeling was to say that person was not only inhuman but also unwanted. Abandoned by the fairies to live out a lonely existence among humans.
But Mum’s feet look like mine, so I know that’s na true.
