Page 1 of My Scarred Laird
PROLOGUE
CALLUM
SCOTLAND
EARLY WINTER, 1661
Callum Rory Collin Stewart couldn’t seem to fall asleep. His mind wouldn’t quiet, and he lay awake in his bed, thinking.
He and his brother Culloden had spent the day at their father’s side, meeting with people of their clan that needed their attention.
Their people had struggled with the crops earlier in the year, and as such, they didn’t have the full food storage that they normally would.
It was an issue, and one their da fought to fix. He had gone to try to buy more, but everyone else was suffering the same fate that their clan was, so their father was frustrated, and tried to do what he could so no one would go hungry.
Their clan depended on him, and he told Callum and Culloden that he wouldn’t fail. Not now, not ever.
He would go into the village to see to everyone’s needs, and he brought the boys with him when he did.
Callum and Culloden both loved going to see the members of their clan, especially the children.
Callum got along well with the other children and his father, Baird, was well-loved in their clan and was a great warrior, and a good laird. He cared about his people. Did the best he could to give them a good life. And Callum knew he was respected and loved for it.
He also looked up to his father and even though he was only six years of age, he knew his father was a great man.
Callum rolled over in his bed, wanting to stop his wayward thoughts, shutting his eyes tighter, and pulling his blanket up higher to his chin.
The fire had gone down in his room a while ago, and he was a little cold, but he let it be.
Culloden was fast asleep in his bed and snoring away. Callum wished that was him as well.
A noise sounded from the courtyard, and he sat up, listening for it to come again.
It did. Confusion filled him, and he got out of bed, going to lift the window coverings on his windows.
He undid the latch and looked outside to see if he could find out what the noise was.
He wished he hadn’t. The courtyard was on fire and men’s bodies littered the ground all over. Dead.
Blood covered the ground in places, and he felt bile crawl up his throat as he saw one of his father’s closest friends and a fierce warrior in their clan with a spear through his chest. His eyes open and unseeing.
Callum slammed the window covering back in place and slid down the wall, trying to swallow over and over, but finally giving in to the urge and retching all over the floor.
He had to find his mother and father. They had to know about this.
Walking to Culloden’s bed, he shook his brother, “Wake up! Cull, ye need to wake up! Somethin’ has happened.”
Culloden groaned, “Leave me be Call. I’m tired.”
Callum shook his shoulder again, “Cull, I mean it! Wake up!!”
Culloden opened his eyes, anger burning in them, “What? I am tired Call.”
“I know Cull, but there are dead men outside. There is fightin.”
Culloden sat up, “Wha’? Are ye serious Call?”
Callum nodded, “We need ta find mama.”
