Highland Scandal by Mageela Troche

and outside. She scooped him in his arms. He rested his head against her breast. Beside the bed, she held onto his a little longer before putting him beneath the covers.
    She pushed herself away from the warm comfort of the bed. She stayed away from the fire, too afraid the heat would soothe her into slumber. She pulled back the skin from the window to let in the winter air.
    The candle melted to a nub and the flame flickered before puttering out. The only light radiated from the hearth.
    Time had come. She gathered up the necessary things for her survival. She wrapped the deerskin around her. She felt bulky since she had donned two plaids as well as the skin. But staying warm was the most important. She did the same with Kenny.
    She clutched him to her chest. Rowen never bothered looking back. She made her way unseen from the top floor to the stable. Alexander the groom would be gone, tucked away in the garrison thanks to drink. She rested Kenny on a bale of old grass and saddled her horse. Surprisingly, her hands were steady. She didn’t fumble with the cinches and bridles.
    With her palfrey ready, she scooped up her son and ventured into the night. She tucked Kenny tighter to her to shield him from the crisp, cold air. The trampled snow had turned the frozen earth to slippery mud. She couldn’t walk out from the gate, but went through the postern gate. The laird never stationed guards since the width of the gate was too small for a horse to pass, but her palfrey squeezed between the thick stones. The castle walls cast long, deep shadows across the landscape. She left tracks in the snow, but was counting on the coming snow to conceal any trace.
    She slipped into the copse of trees and found the items Margaret left behind for her. She secured the packs to the saddle. Once she had everything, she mounted. Even with Kenny in her arms, she had no trouble. Mothers must learn to do things with one hand. She tucked him under her skin and set off.
    The ride was slow along the animal trail. She used the shelter of the trees to block wind and shield them. The bare branches stuck out like eerie claws scratching at the darkness. The eerie cry of the wind carried the din of the night animals and the heavy breathing of her and the horse.
    Her eyes were as wide as an owl’s and she searched for any lurking danger. This was a dangerous, foolish endeavor between the beasts and the roaming bands of men. She jumped at every noise and craned her neck behind to check they weren’t being followed. Her fear kept her at a ready and banished any sensation of cold that racked her.
    She rubbed her chin against her fur to rouse some heat. Her nose went from cold and runny to numb, but it continued to run. Her hands had frozen around the reins. She straightened them, feeling as if she broke the ice covering them. She never let go of the reins.
    She hugged Kenny tighter against her. She winced at the needling pain shot through her arm. She rode onward as the world darkened so even the horse’s mane was undistinguishable.
    She yearned to sleep. Her limbs felt heavy and as if she had no control over herself even her gloved fingers were blundering about to hold onto her son. Was exhaustion or the cold? She shook her head. She switched Kenny’s sleep heavy body to her other arm. He squirmed and mumbled before he nestled back in her arms. At least all her muscles ached and reminded her she was alive.
    Dawn was breaking. The pallid light gleamed through the mist and blurred the world so she couldn’t make out what lay before her. Even with straining light, she rode faster. She hadn’t put enough distance between herself and the Murrays.
    Kenny stirred as the sun hovered over the mountaintops. She parted the deer fur and peered down at his flushed face.
    “Morn, my angel.”
    He pushed up so she set him before him on the saddle, making sure to tuck him snug. “Ma, me wanna make water.” He squirmed and cupped his boy parts.
    She flexed her thighs,