Silvery flakes of snow were falling as he sat at the small fire he had built. He was finishing the last bit of hare that he had roasted on the spit. It could very well be the last meal for sometime perhaps for all time.
As he stared into the flames his mind stumbled over the fear that he felt for what he knew was to come. He knew that blood would be shed and that many of his friends, family, and his enemies would meet the rune of death on the morrow. In his heart he knew that his courage came not from being unafraid but rather from facing the fear and conquering it. It was not new to him or those around him as the struggle had been many years even when he was but a young lad not yet old enough for battle. And from his years as a warrior he had come to know the high cost of freedom and to respect the reason that so many were willing to sacrifice for it's blessings. But there was more than the fight for his country; something that stood far and above this. It was the most important thing in his life.
As he watched the dying flames he thought of her. He could smell the scent of her hair and touch the softness of her skin. The memory of her kiss was still upon his lips from when they bade each other farewell for what they both knew might be the last time.
To him there was no greater in all of the highlands. He thought of her as a daughter of the Goddess whom they asked to bless his sword and protect him from harm. And he remembered the tears in her soft eyes as he had turned to take his leave. It was for her that he went into battle. For her more than him he wanted the freedom that she could hold her head high and proud of her country and her family.
Their time together had been so short but the bond between them had grown so strong that the parting was as fierce as the winter winds on the moors. With each step away from her he felt more alone and incomplete. As he had met with the members of his own clan and those of the other clans the numbers did not deter from his feelings of loneliness. And he knew that without her, his own life was but an empty shell. A body without substance or soul.
There was no sleep for him this night as he wanted to spend his time in thoughts of her. She was his true love, this Lady Donnachaidh. There was no greater honor than to have her thoughts and her love. For this he would sacrifice anything that was his own. As the hours of the evening passed he thought of the stories he had heard of angels so beautiful and pure and he knew that if there were such creatures then she was one. As he looked out he saw the dim lights of other fires around him and wondered if his comrades in arms were being visited with thoughts as his, of their loved ones and families. Of the lands they had left behind for the sake of protecting them and seeking the justice that all people deserved. He knew he loved them all in a way they were his people. But tomorrow he would be fighting for her.
As light began to come to the sky he pulled a small piece of cloth from his tunic. Opening it he picked up the thistle that was wrapped within it. Putting it to his nose he smelled the fragrance of her gift to him one last time. He then wrapped it and placing it next to his heart he faced the west and spoke to her as if she were standing in front of him. His words floated aloft on the morning breeze; "You are the reason for all that I do M'Lady. My breath of life for thee."
He picked up his sword and his shield and turned toward the east moving through the mists and the snow of the morning. It was the year of 1314 that he headed for his destiny at Bannockburn.
