“Back in the direction of Loch Dreva?” He clearly did not agree with her assessment.

“Perhaps not that far,” she said. “We may have missed a break in the road or a turn we ought to have taken.”

“I didn’t see any,” he said.

That he was doubtful of her settled frustratingly on her mind. Did he not feel this same insistence that they were going the wrong way?

She studied the meadow, hoping to discover some clue as to what was pulling at her. She spied a flash of blue light at a distance, dancing on the tips of the blades of wild grass. The light called to her. Beckoned to her.

“We need to go that way.” Without hesitating or looking back at him, she rushed toward the spark, but it extinguished the moment she reached it.

Frantic, her eyes swept the area, searching.

The blue light appeared again, a bit farther ahead, back the way they’d come.

She chased it only to have it extinguish and reappear farther away. It moved faster, though she did too. The pull was undeniable, unmistakable. She couldn’t have stopped chasing it if she tried.

Back it went, back along the trail. On and on she followed, not to the path they’d been on but into a nearby wood. There was no path, just flickering blue lights, tiny blue flames popping up everywhere, guiding her in the direction she knew she had to go.

Duncan caught up to her, running alongside her, digging in his bag. He pulled out the crock of butter and tossed it toward the blue flame. It stopped. Hovered.

She stopped.

Duncan set his arms around her, his embrace firm but gentle. “I know this creature,” he said. “You mustn’t follow it, Sorcha.”

“I need to. It’s taking me where I must follow.”

“It’s the will-o’-the-wisp. It is leading you astray, and it will lead you to your death if you allow it. You have to resist the urge to follow.”

Something in his words penetrated the fog clouding her mind. The will-o’-the-wisp. It called to those who wandered, those who felt pulled toward something new and something different. It twisted around the mind, convincing people to run ever deeper into dangerous paths, away from the path they were meant to trod. It tugged at her wanderer’s heart, tucked itself into her vagabond’s mind, and pulled her almost beyond resisting.

She closed her eyes tightly and leaned against Duncan. She wrapped her arms around his middle and held fast to him, knowing her life depended on it. The mystical flame would eventually extinguish itself, searching for another unwary wanderer. She simply needed to resist its call until it did.

“I can still hear it,” she whispered, afraid.