Frozen Moment In Time

The soft leather of well worn boots crunched on a sporadic display of brightly covered leaves. Mac stopped, her arms hanging limply at her sides while the smoothly worn reins slipped absently from her fingers. Before her stood the solitary shell of Willow Bend Manor, home to Marchioness of Flint , Countess of Blackburn Cecily Rose Wolfe, two time mayor of Beeston, two time duchess of Chester, and her best friend. Had so much time truly passed? The surrounding forests seemed to have moved quickly to take back the cleared land and the entire estate had a very eerie silence that hovered over it's buildings like a thick blanket. Vines worked their way up the outside of the manor, small sprouting trees speckled the front lawn and a tree had fallen on the stables.

Where was Cecily? What had happened here? And Bloodstone? Squatting, she lowered herself to the ground, sinking into the thick mattress of leaves and drawing her knees to her chin. When was the last time she'd spoken with her friend? Had time really flown as quickly as it seemed? Gazing around she took in the rainbow of trees. It was Autumn, just past the eve of Samhain and the turning point of the Earth. Already the sun was dipping earlier from the sky to allow the Moon her longer ascension into the inky blackness. Obviously a lot had happened in the time that she had been gone.

Time was dependable. It never stopped or paused and it always moved forward with an obstinate drive to keep on going. Just like her. There had been a time when she realized her life had grown dormant, stale and urn-excitable in the small trading town of Beeston. But then she'd met Grave, the love of her life, and the only man in the world who could lock horns with Father Time and pause the world. When their eyes met and their souls collided time did not exist. Where was he now? She'd traveled South for a couple of weeks to finish up her Tax Studies and while they'd left on very… passionate terms… she longed to see his face and feel his hand slip between her fingers.

Laying backward in the leaves, Mac stretched her arms out at her sides and gazed up through the rustling branches and into the bright white of passing clouds over a deep blue sky. It felt good to be home. It also felt wearisome and exciting. Cecily was ok. She could feel it deep within her heart and would inquire in the town after which direction the lady had traveled. Mac blinked against the weight of her eyelids. It had been a long ride, a weary sleep and a stressful day. After merely a few moments her breath became deeper and the relaxing wave of sleep overtook her mind and body.

Life in Liverpool was peaceful, with one day blending seamlessly into the next. Cecily kept mostly to herself with only a barebone staff keeping the house and garden, not that it needed much tending. She had no friends here to entertain and the fields lay fallow for the winter. The home itself proved well-built and study, resiting the harsh winds the sea often threw at it with nary a drought.

Phoenix, it seemed, was simply the most precocious of a litter of eight, all of whom decided to make Cecily's back stoop home when she started feeding them. As the autumn pressed into winter, days grew shorter and time drew closer. There was only one person she could call on and Cecily prayed she could find her friend and that she would come. With Phoenix stalking her toes beneath her skirt hem, she began to pen a letter.

Mackenie Gael Fraser
Baroness of Bunbury
Beeston, Chester

Dear Mac,

I pray that this letter finds you and that you will forgive my lack of communication this past year. I suppose I should just come out with the hard news. Bloodstone passed away this past spring after we returned from Valencia. When we got back to England, we felt we could not return to the constant angst of life in Chester and so moved to my estate at Blackburn just outside Preston. We weren't home three weeks when he was struck with a fever and passed before the week's end. Even now, I can hardly believe he is gone.

For that reason, among others, I could not stay at Blackburn and I cannot bring my self to return to Beeston, although I am often filled with happy memories of Willow Bend. Those memories are probably best left that way, since I know it wouldn't be the same if I returned. So it is, that I have landed in Liverpool where I've set up in a nice house by the sea. I have managed to work out an arrangement with the mayor to use wood from my forests at Blackburn to help build a new port here. They have even been consulting with one of my carpenters.

All this brings me to ask a favor of you. Would you be available to join me in Liverpool for a few months. I hope you can come as soon as possible. I really need your help and will explain more when you get here.

Your friend now and always,

Cecily

After rereading the letter, she decided it didn't convey the anxiety, loneliness and emotion she'd been afraid it would. Satisfied, she folded it, sealed it, then had one final thought which she scrawled on the back:

My mare Bonnie is with foal. I believe the baby will be of some relation to you. ~C

She shivered. First once then again until awaking, Mac sat abruptly up, blinking blindly against the dim light. Frantically she pushed to a squatting position, hand going to the blade at her hip as her green eyes searched the darkness; ears, body and mind attuned to the natural surroundings. It had been several months since her time traveling Worcester, several months since he had lurked in the shadows following her every move, and several months since she had felt helpless in the blackness of a night very similar to this one. Her hand slipped defensively over her stomach. She'd promised herself that night that never again would she be helpless and defenseless.

Leaves rustled under the heavy thud of a footfall, and Mac spun on her toes, her hand fluidly unsheathing the dirk at her side. It was the loud equine snort and the soft sound of munching grass that made her chuckle softly at her own uneasiness. Crusher stepped from the shadows to shove his nose against her chest and lip the back of her hand. "Och, ye auld man, we'll head home if'n ye think ye can make it without stopping to taste e'very blade o' grass in between." She patted the middle of his forehead before reaching up to grab a handful of long black mane and launch herself onto his back. Turning his head toward home he broke into a gallop, eager to leave the ghosts of Willow Bend behind them both.

The coin flew up into the air, turned some lazy spirals, and then dropped onto the back of his wrist. He slapped his other hand down onto it.

"Head."

Removing the holding hand he glanced down at the face revealed. Taking the coin from the back of his hand he tossed it once more.

Ping! Slap!

"Head."

Once more the moves were repeated.

Ping! Slap!

"Head."

Ping! Slap!

"Head."

Ping! Slap!

"Head."

Ping! Slap!

"Head."

As a way to pass the time it was rather futile and yet endlessly interesting. Especially since the coin continually came down...

Ping! Slap!

"Head."

Like some crazy demented predetermined thing.

Ping! Slap!

"Head."

Grave lay on his back along the top of the branch. He was perfectly at rest. His feet crossed at the ankles and encased in long black boots that reached to his knees. His trews were equally black, tight, and topped by a leather jacket with studs along the seams. His hair was bound in a leather thong and freshly dyed so that it was a stately black. A sword was strapped around his waist, a hand-and-a-half blade wrapped in a scabbard of cracked and oiled brown leather. The handle was topped by a hilt that should have held a jewel but this space was spare, like an socket without an eyeball.

Ping! Slap!

"Head."

Ping! Slap!

"Head."

Ping! Slap!

"Head."

Ping! Slap!

"Head."

He could hear the thumping of horses hooves over rain slick mud. It was sure footed beast, well trained, steered by hands obviously accustomed to riding. It was moving at speed as she rode through the trees of this small stand of forest. Waiting idly he listened to her coming close. His body was completely calm, yet his mind raced in anticipation. He remembered their parting so vividly...

Ping! Slap!

"Head."

Ping! Slap!

"Head."

Ping!

Pushing with his heel he dropped easily to the ground. The his feet braced wide apart he landed easily, but the ground was oh so trecherous. The deep mud of the clearing sent him sliding and he ended up landing on his backside. Cursing his hand shot out as his head came up to see a large black fresian charging at him. He hoped she was as good a horsewoman as he remembered. Luckily she came to a sudden stop before him. There was a flash of light as the sun glinted from the silver of the coin; it landed in his hand and he slapped it onto his wrist once more. A smile tuggled at the corner of his mouth. "Your call, Lady Mac."

Leaning down over the horses surging shoulders Mac briefly closed her eyes. The wind from their run ran like soothing fingers through her hair as the same soft breeze caressed her cheek. She was far away, her mind in another place and another time with the rocking motion of Crusher's gait came to an abrupt stop and he thrust backwards onto his hind legs. With her hands entangled in his mane she threw her body forward, pushing him back toward the ground. It was then she noticed the figure delicately balanced between her horses front hooves.

The man's dark head popped up from his crouch and simultaneously a heavy warmth spread through her body. It was very like the man to simply fall into her lap. Wasn't that as it seemed he'd appeared in her life to begin with? As an angel sent from heaven. Och! Perhaps not quite an angel but a very tempting man chiseled from the same cloth as she. The smile plastered upon her lips tugged at the muscles as her mind forced her body to stay abreast the horse. She dearly wanted to fling herself into his arms and kiss him until neither of them could breath.

"My call?" A pink tongue escaped to lick her dry lips. "Why good sir I believe I shall call tails. Think ye I will win?" She shifted in the saddle her eyes never leaving his face.