At the scream of the carnyx, everyone runs out of my inn. Smoke drifts through the open door. When I go to have a look, I see that the village is burning! I grab the biggest jar I can find and dash outside to the trough as fast as my old bones can carry me. I fill the jug and spin around to splash the front of the house. I fill it again and toss the water as high as I can, to wet the thatch. Again and again, I dip and throw, dip and throw, until the trough is nearly dry.

By that time, the blaze is in full roar. My home is protected, being at the far end of the settlement. The others are not so fortunate but it is lucky that almost all of them have already taken refuge at the keep. I watch sadly from the doorway as Inver Colpa burns.

When the fire has almost burned itself out, a few warriors ride through and pull down the skeletal remains that are still flaming. It sickens me to see such destruction, especially knowing that the ones who sparked it were probably among my guests. The roving band of outlaws disguised as MacRoths!

Curse their thieving, murderous hands!

Angry at myself as much as I am angry at the marauders, I stamp back into An Cailleach Muir and gather several parcels of provisions from my stores of food and drink. I take a few armloads of clothing from the wooden box where I keep all of the things that people have ever left behind. These I load onto my trading cart and hitch up the big old mare. Then I head into the smoldering village to search for any needy survivors.

The place is ghastly silent. The warriors I saw working here are gone now. I stop and call out in front of each ruined hut. A few stray dogs come out of hiding, tails wagging. No one else answers. They must have all run away - or else they are dead.

I go on until I get to the forge at the other end of the settlement. It is a pleasant surprise to find it still standing. But there is a ferocious battle going on not far from here. I can hear the screams, howls and clashings of shields. Over the hill, I see a black cloud of smoke rising from the direction of the keep.

A disheartening sight. I sit numbly in my cart, watching the sky darken and wonder what will become of us all.