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Nae, that wasn’t right… What had David told him?

“A doctor!” Raghnall yelled… God’s bones, he was speaking English without even trying. “I need a doctor!”

They all looked around and one woman in her fifties stepped forward. “I’m a nurse.” She looked back at a man who must be accompanying her. “Call the ambulance right now. Someone find a museum worker immediately.” Then, looking back at Raghnall. “Lay her down on the ground. What’s wrong with her?”

“A nurse?” He looked at the woman’s chest. Could she still be able to nurse bairns at her age?

“What’s wrong with you!” she cried out, covering her chest uncomfortably. “A medical nurse!”

Raghnall’s throat contracted. Could he trust this woman? He was a stranger here, at a complete loss, and he didn’t know how things worked in this time.

But he couldn’t bring himself to trust anyone.

“I wilna let go of her,” he growled. “She has the sugar sickness…and I…she may be dead…”

The woman paled, and while the man pressed with his fingers on a small, rectangular object in his hand and then held it to his ear and began talking, she walked towards Bryanna.

“She has diabetes?”

“Aye, ’tis the word she told me.”

The woman took Bryanna’s wrist, her eyes widening even more. “There’s a pulse but it’s weak.” She looked at the man. “Tell them to hurry. She’s in a diabetic shock. There isn’t much time.”

She locked her eyes with Raghnall, and he recognized the focused look that Catrìona had when she was healing someone. “Put her on the ground and turn her on her side. That will allow her to breathe easier.”

Raghnall couldn’t move. He couldn’t imagine letting go of Bryanna. Somehow, letting go of her meant she’d die.

“Nae.”

“You have to trust me, sir. You can hold her hand, but it will be better for her if she’s on the ground.”

“It’s coming,” said the man with the small black object. “The ambulance from Dr. Mackinnon Memorial Hospital is on its way.”

Ambulance…aye, that was indeed another word David had told him.

Help was coming.

Raghnall sucked in air and commanded himself to calm down. He was a stranger here, in this time of polished stone buildings with windows made of glass so clear it was like water. The people looked at him strangely, like he was a wild animal and could snap at them with no warning. If this time did allow Bryanna to live with sugar sickness, he had to trust healers would be able to help her.

“Aye.”

But before he could lay Bryanna on the ground, a plump woman in her fifties hurried out of the building. “Is someone sick?” She stopped dead before Raghnall and looked at him and Bryanna with wide eyes. “Who are you?”

“He carried her from the castle,” said the nurse. “Running like crazy. Screaming healer, healer.”

The plump woman slowly looked at Eilean Donan. “But the museum isn’t open yet… How did you get in there?”

Raghnall didn’t reply. Silence hung in the air, long and loaded, and only the distant rumbling and rhythmic swooshing of something from that bridge across the loch, the chirping of birds, and the rustling of leaves filled Raghnall’s ears.

“I heard people have disappeared there,” said someone from the small gathering behind them. “But that they also appear…?”

Raghnall didn’t want or need to give anyone any explanation. “Ye wanted to help?” Raghnall said, his teeth clenched.

The plump woman came out of the stupor. “Oh, yes. I work in the museum. My name is Leonie Peterson. Come inside, there are chairs you can lay the lass on.”

As they walked inside the building, Leonie kept staring at him, at his sword, at his clothes. She even leaned back to look at the back of his leine croich.

She gestured at a row of four chairs that were connected and made of some sort of iron or polished wood he had no name for. The nurse followed him, and she told him to lay Bryanna on her left side. She kept checking Bryanna’s pulse, her hand on Bryanna’s wrist as he walked. Raghnall dropped to the floor, which was made of absolutely perfect flat rectangular gray stones that had no doubt taken a lifetime to lay.