The Unbroken Circle

Lucky's POVI stopped for a second and watched the trees ahead of me. I hadn’t given them much thought at first, but now, as they stood like one tall guardian after another around me, I was feeling a bit claustrophobic.The river had led me to this forest, but so far no people. Just my luck. Which was sort of ironic, since that was also my name. I smiled at my own joke and kept on going. Well, at least now, I had a direction. And I wasn’t going to die. It was late summer and the forest was rich in berries and nuts. The water was fresh and, if necessary, I could make a weapon of some kind and hunt a small animal. My biggest threat was the wildlife. The predators with sharper teeth than mine. But somehow I still kept my fingers crossed that I’d meet people before I met them.I made a stop to wash and eat some of the barriers I’d collected when I made my first native encounter.“Stay where you are!” A loud but young voice said behind me. I jumped up and faced the man. I recognized the la

Lucky's POVHe was surprisingly fast at mounting his horse and reached his hand out to me.“Thanks,” I said and let him help me up behind him. “So, what do I call you?”“The name’s McCollum,” he said, almost overly dramatic, but with a sense of pride and majesty that seemed to justify it. “Marcus McCollum.”“You say it as if it’s supposed to mean something,” I said, hoping not to disappoint him too much that I didn’t recognize his face or his name. He turned and looked down at me, and as I had already guessed, he was surprised.“It does, to a lot of people,” he answered.“History will remember you,” I nodded, struggling to hide my bitterness. I had known a lot of good men. My grandfather, my father. History wouldn’t remember them. They were good men, peacekeepers. History didn’t remember people like that. It remembered the ones who started wars or exterminated entire ethnic groups for their own selfish purposes. “Good for you.”I finished the sentence, but as I looked up and met his d

Markus's POVAs the prison door closed behind me, I couldn’t help but feel angry, frustrated, and utterly useless. I had fallen so easily into Fitzwilliam’s trap that a child could have seen through it.Damn it!I knew that every time I left Castle Big Rock, I was risking my own life. The Prince of Wales might have protected me, and no one dared speak against the Duke of York, but my enemies were many and powerful. As soon as they had the chance, they would kill me.I knew that!Still, I couldn’t sit idly by and let the King of England do whatever he pleased with our home. The Weapons Act! The Cloth Act! Acts of utter stupidity, if you asked me. If they wanted to erase Scotsmen from Scotland, they needed more than just Acts to do so. And as I stood there, I found myself cursing the Jacobites for their foolishness. Sure, their intentions may have been pure and noble, but as they all fled to France and lived comfortably there, we were left behind to face the consequences of their action

Lucky's POVThe guards at the prison, of course, thought it was suspicious that I had come there. But as I offered them food and explained that my soul was in dire need of the good Father - whom I still hoped was inside - they seemed to buy it and let me enter.As I stepped into the prison, I thought it would either be peaceful or filled with desperate, fearful voices. But instead, I was met with the sound of roaring laughter."--- you can only imagine the filly’s expression, when I---," I heard the oldest one say, while his audience laughed their asses off. Well, all except the priest."You heathen dogs!" he shouted, cutting the Scot off and jumping up and down in outrage like an insolent toddler. His face turned alternately red and purple, and even I had a hard time controlling my laughter. I really didn’t want to know what had happened to that poor filly."I can only pray that God will show you scoundrels mercy, because God knows, I can’t help you!" He bellowed on, before turning a