It has been a notorious amount of time since you traveled back in time and found yourself under the wing of the Mackenzie's, and you had yet an awful lot to learn.

What you did know, however, was the usage of herbs. And given Mackenzie's clan lackage of a healer, it presented to you the perfect opportunity of owning the clan's respect.

It took time and effort to get you were you were, still surrounded by muttered Gaelic curses and quite a few careful stares. But you were useful. And you had made a few friends.

In what your healer duties concerned, there was a single man that somehow managed to pay you -at least- two visits a week; it was either a beat up that he himself had offered to be given, or the consequences of being so barbaric during comon activities around the clan.

This time,though, it was different. His arm was badly injured after the visit of some stray redcoats, and so you now found yourself carefully stitching the wound in your aphotecary under the light of the fireplace.