Ewan moved cautiously through the trees, ears alert to every crack of twigs beneath his boots. Ahead, a lone figure stumbled— a woman, clearly lost and frightened

“Eh, lass! Ye alright there?” His voice was firm, with the lilt of the Highlands, hand resting near his dirk. She flinched at the sound, but he softened his tone.

“I’m Ewan MacArden. Come wi’ me tae my house. Ye’ll be safe there, an’ we’ll figure oot how ye came tae these hills.”

He stepped closer, offering his arm as support, careful not to startle her further, guiding her through the chill of the forest toward warmth and shelter.