#I'm afraid the juice is running out lads

[eleonorpiteira]

22.

To survive, they must come together.

Two within fours, four of four, apart but as one. Like a puzzle.

Before the point of no return.

But how can you solve a puzzle that you don't even know exists?

.

[ trevus-themed wordtober ] 

[rebelwrites]

Damsel causing damage

Juice Ortiz x Reader

Hi, I absolutely love your writing! I was wondering if I could request prompts 39 "I'm not a damsel in distress. I'm a damsel doing damage" with either Jax or Juice? (Ik you had a lot of Jax recently so either one works) Extra fluff is desired! Something where they are together and the guy underestimates her, so she proves herself to be worthy of being an old lady.

When would people learn, never to piss you off or challenge you to a freaking brawl. You grew up in a large family, with 4 older brothers and being the only girl you grew up knowing how to fight and you weren't afraid to admit you could kick all of their asses. In fact you did many times.

Yet here you were, stood in the middle of a circle as people you went to school with started spouting off about your family. No one disrespects your family.

“Come on then” you laughed tying your hair back “who wants to fucking go, or are you all too chicken”

“You seriously want to take us on?” One of the lads smirked.

“I’m here aren’t I dick head” you laughed as he lunged for you, ducking out the way you brought your fist up connecting it to his cheek.

One by one the lads challenged you and each one retreated with multiple cuts on the face and a broken nose.

“Seriously this is too fucking easy” you smirked spitting on the floor.

-

“Oi juice we have a problem” Tig sighed as he walked closed to his brother.

“What now” he sighed.

“Your old lady” Tig said “Unser just called to say there’s a massive brawl going on down at the abandoned warehouse”

“For fuck sake” Juice muttered running out to his bike.

None of the guys knew just how well you could fight and hold your own.

Racing through the streets of charming, all sorts of thoughts were running through Juice’s mind. Panic set in as he heard your scream come from the building. Abandoning his bike he ran inside to see you standing in the middle, two of your brothers leaning against the bonnets of their cars smirking.

Soon enough the guys were stood in shock as they saw you single handedly beat a guy that was twice your height and size.

Out of the corner of your eye you saw your old man and a smirk formed on your face.

“Now does anyone else wanna fucking go” you shouted rolling your sleeves up. “Or disrespect my fucking family”

Silence fell over everyone as you threw one final punch breaking another nose.

“Brilliant” you laughed “now if you ducking come at me again, this will be child’s play compared to what I will do”

“Princess” Juan shouted running over to you, taking your face in his hand inspecting a few cuts. His eyes were full of worry.

“Baby I’m fine” you grinned, kissing his cheek.

“I heard you scream I thought you were in trouble” he whispered, grazing his thumb over your cheek wiping some blood away. “I got worried.

“Juan, one thing you need to know about your old lady” you smiled “I’m not a damsel in distress. I’m a damsel doing damage”

“I can see that now baby” he laughed softly.

“Now can we go get some food I’m fucking starving” you giggled linking your hand with his.

“Chicken nuggets?” He asked, making you laugh.

“Hell yes” you smirked, pouting slightly. “And maybe some Disney movies and cuddles.

“Whatever you want baby” juice smirked kissing the top of your head.

It was at that moment everyone, himself included, had underestimated the damage you could cause, and they also realised that they didn’t have to worry about you holding your own. One thing was for sure they were glad that you were an old lady, the club needed someone like you.

[frustrated-writer-skyeknight]

One of you guys

Whilst Jack went about distributing weapons, Hiccup had been considering his options, which dragon to take down as he took care of sharpening weapons.

A Nadder head is sure to get me at least noticed. Gronckles are tough. Taking down one of those would definitely get me a girlfriend. A Zippleback? Exotic. Two heads, twice the status.

The Viking catapult operator dodged and went for cover from another fiery blast, "They found the sheep!"

"Concentrate fire over the lower bank!" Stoick called out.

"Fire!"

A Monstrous Nightmare growls and alights itself as it climbs up the catapult.

And then, there's the Monstrous Nightmare. Only the best Vikings go after those. They have this nasty habit of setting themselves on fire.

"Reload!" Stoick hollered at his people, moving front line to buy them time. "I'll take care of this." he fights the Nightmare, which takes a few hits before retreating.

But the ultimate prize is the dragon no one has ever seen. We call it the-

"NIGHT FURY! GET DOWN!"

A high-pitched whistle is heard from the sky. The Vikings panic. From out of nowhere, an explosion tears the catapult apart.

"JUMP!"

This thing never steals food, never shows itself, and... never misses. No one has ever killed a Night Fury. That's why I'm going to be the first.

"Aight boys," Gobber called, putting his apron up. "Man the fort, you two. They need me out there!" He attaches an axe to his arm and begins to run out, but turns around at the doorway. "You." He pointed at Hiccup, "Stay. Put. There. Jack. Watch..."

Jack rolled his eyes. "Gobber. Yes. Sir." he mimicked, before making shooing gestures.

"You know what I mean." The blond Viking made a battle cry before charging in and joining everybody else.

Jack wiped at his forehead, as he moves to put out the fire from the forge. "Hic, would you pass me the..." he turned around, to see himself alone at the stall and whatever contraption, which hit that Viking from earlier, had disappeared too. He face palmed, "Hoo boy, not again..." he sighed, "I looked away for one second..."

Hiccup runs through the village, passing Berkians hurrying on their way, bringing his bolas launcher. The villagers snarls at the passing by, no strangers to the young boy's clumsy tendencies.

"Hiccup, where are you going?!"

"Come back here!"

"Yeah, I know!" Hiccup called back, "Be right back!" he's pushing a cart with the automated catapult on it.

Stoick captures several Nadders in a net and wrestles them. One tries to blast him with fire. "Mind yourselves! The devils still have some juice in them!"

Meanwhile, Hiccup gets up a high slope, overlooking the village. He sets up his bola catapult on an empty hill and looks towards the night sky, scanning for a target.

"Come on." The brunette huffed, gripping on the triggers. "Gimme something to shoot at, gimme something to shoot at."

Silence from the night sky is the response to his request. It seemed as though this was going nowhere. Until he hears a swift movement. catches on a shadow, which starts visibly blotting out the stars. The silhouette fires, and an explosion illuminates it, showing a visible shadow. Hiccup shoots, the force knocking him away from his invention

A loud cry is heard as the shadow is seen plummeting down into a forest.

"Oh, I hit it!" Hiccup gawked, caught in disbelief for a moment, then a wave of delight followed as he got up and cheered. " YES! I HIT IT!" He turned around, "Did anybody see that?"

A growl is heard behind him, followed by the tell tale signs of something being knocked away. Stiffening, before turning around in resignation, Hiccup comes face to face with a monstrous Nightmare.

"Except for you."

Jack was running around town, with the Berkians barking at him to find cover. He, however, was out on a mission; to find his best friend before he gets himself into trouble.  A shrill cry sounds from the hill, and Jack had a feeling he was already too late for that.

The cry also catches Stoick's attention. He turns to see the Monstrous Nightmare chasing Hiccup, and he growls in frustration.

"DO NOT let them escape!" The chief tells another Viking, Spitelout, before heading off.

The Viking gave him a salute, "Right!"

Hiccup runs behind a torch pole and hides, just as flames reach around the corner. He looks behind it and on the other side, the Nightmare reaches to get Hiccup. Stoick punches the beast and jumps back to defend himself. The dragon tries to breathe fire, but coughs up only a few drops of flaming liquid instead, having exhausted its shots.

"You're all out." Stoick sneered at the beast.

The chief of Berk charged, taking on the dragon single-handedly and nearly overpowering it. Nearly, because the Nightmare went on the defensive, and once it had the opening, it turned away to retreat along with the rest of the dragons that weren't captured. The torch pole collapses, and it tumbles down into the village, leaving ruins in its wake.

Oh, and there's one more thing you need to know...

"Sorry, Dad."

The torch rolls onto the Nadders Stoick netted earlier, freeing them. The dragons manage to escape, hauling off most of Berk's food and livestock. The villagers looked upset, Jack looked chagrined even though he didn't have anything to do with it. Stoick huffed in annoyance, before looking down at the younger brunette, crossing his arms in disapproval.

Hiccup pursed his lips, before speaking again. "Okay, but I hit a Night Fury."

Stoick rolled his eyes before he moves to grab Hiccup by the back of his shirt and drags him away from the carnage of a crumbling burning house. Jack runs up from the gathering of Berkians forming as they look at father and son. Hiccup continues to ramble on excuses as he, really, had no choice but to let himself be dragged.

"It’s not like the last few times, Dad! I mean, I really actually hit it!" Hiccup stressed, "You guys were busy and I had a very clear shot. It went down, just off Raven Point. Let’s get a search party out there, before it–"

"STOP!" Stoick shoved him to stand at his front, and Hiccup does just that. "Just… stop. Every time you step outside, disaster follows." He huffed irritably, "Can you not see that I have bigger problems? Winter’s almost here and I have an entire village to feed!

The boy shrugged awkwardly, "Between you and me, the village could do with a little less feeding, don’t ya think?" he mumbles lamely.

"Well," Jack gestures vaguely and speaks to no one in particular. "he’s not wrong I guess..."

A viking at the back rubs his stomach as if to say: Are you calling me fat?

"This isn’t a joke, Hiccup!" Stoick snapped at his son, before giving Jack a pointed look. "And don’t you encourage him, lad." Jack kept his mouth tight lipped, and move a bit to the side so that half of his body was concealed by a larger Viking next to him. "Why can’t you follow the simplest orders?"

Hiccup clears his throat, and tries to sound convincing. "I can’t stop myself. I see a dragon and I have to just…" He makes a sad attempt of hitting a fist into an open palm, kill it, you know? It’s who I am, Dad.

Tried as he might, Jack couldn't help but groan, as he face palmed with both hands this time and doesn’t believe a word his best friend said. But wished he still did sound a bit more convincing since he’s saying it in front of his dad and the village.

"You are many things, Hiccup." Stoick sighed, "But a dragon killer is not one of them. Get back to the house." He instructed Gobber, who was already on it, smacking the boy behind the head slightly. "Make sure he gets there. I have his mess to clean up." The chief grunted, before looking for someone in the crowd and called out, "Jackson, you start out by taking that contraption back to the smithy."

Jack starts frowning, and looking after Hiccup longingly to give him some companionable comfort before doing as he was order and goes gathers up Hiccup’s invention.

"Yes, sir."

Jack started to cart away the ruined contraption back to the general direction of the smithy. Along the way, both Hiccup and Jack hears the jabs coming from their fellow youth group.

"Quite the performance."

"I’ve never seen anyone mess up that badly. That helped!"

Hiccup rolled his eyes, as he waved a dismissive arm. "Thank you, thank you. I was trying…"

Jack makes sure to shove Snotlout as he passed by on his way to the smithy, excusing himself by saying he didn’t see the guy due to his focus being on heading back towards the Smithy.

Along the way back to the Haddock hut, Hiccup vents his frustration to Gobber. "So…I really did hit one."

"Sure, Hiccup." Gobber drawled.

"He never listens."

"Well, it runs in the family."

The brunette ignores the sass, and goes on. "And when he does, it’s always with this… disappointed scowl. Like someone skimped on the meat in his sandwich." he does his best impression of his father. "'Excuse me, barmaid! I’m afraid you brought me the wrong offspring. I ordered an extra large boy with beefy arms. Extra guts and glory on the side. This here, this is a talking fish bone!'"

"Now, you’re thinking about this all wrong." Gobber said, "It’s not so much what you look like, it’s what’s inside that he can’t stand."

Hiccup narrowed his eyes, "Thank you for summing that up." he deadpanned. "Jack was right about being good with pep talks, huh."

"If it makes ya feel better," The older Viking shrugged, "Jack likes ya no matter how you look."

Hiccup raised a brow, "It’s comforting," he granted, "but he is my best friend. Kinda expected that he would."

Gobber blinked, looking incredulous for a moment, then he remembers how old the boy actually was and rolled his eyes, "Oy, Valhalla help the lad. Poor Jack…"

Hiccup looked all the more confused.

"Look," Gobber gestured with his hand, and hook. "the point is, stop trying so hard to be something you’re not."

Dejectedly, Hiccup entered his hut. "I just want to be one of you guys."

Gobber makes an empathetic expression before turning away and heading back to the center of the village.

And that was the moment Hiccup took the back exit, to go into the forest.

[hookedonapirate]

Trick or Treat

A/N: It feels so great to post again. I've been in a writing slump for several weeks now, so I wanted to write something short and sweet to get the writing juices flowing. Thank you @hollyethecurious for your ideas for the premise and @darkcolinodonorgasm for Killian’s costume!

Rated: Teen and up for mature language

“Well, that’s disturbing.” Emma grimaces at the zombie gnome with gnarly teeth, reaching out with dirt and blood covered hands like he's coming out of the ground to get them. Even though it's not real, the graphics are enough to give a kid nightmares.

 “That’s so cool, Mommy!”

 Well, any kid who’s not her seven-year-old son that is. Henry runs down the sidewalk, his oversized hat falling off his head. He’s a ball of energy most days, but tonight, he’s extra energetic, and he hasn’t even had any candy yet.

 “Kid, your hat!” She follows after him, picking up his hat from the winding walkway which is lined with jack-o'-lanterns on each side. But as she passes each one, she’s surprised when she realizes these aren’t just typical jack-o'-lanterns with a mouth, nose and eyes carved into them. No, these are intricately crafted jack-o'-lanterns. One is carved into a haunted house, one is a graveyard full of ghosts, another looks like a skull from afar, but up close, it appears to be carved into long stem mushrooms and grass. Her favorite is the pumpkin carving that mimics a scene from the Nightmare Before Christmas. 

 Like seriously, who has time to carve out all these pumpkins? And why weren’t the Jack-o'-lanterns on display as she had seen at the Night of 1,000 Jack-o'-lanterns at the Chicago Botanic Garden? Whoever carved these has some ridiculous artistic talent. They are also way too into Halloween, because their yard is all decked out. There are games set up on tables in the yard, skeletons and ghosts hanging from the trees and tombstone yard signs all over. 

 As she walks up the steps to the house, fake fog sweeps around her feet, the porch is covered in fake cobwebs with large spiders and the porch railing is lined with decorated jars, “potions”, skulls and other Halloween themed knickknacks. She laughs at the potion bottle labeled, “love potion.” When she reaches the door, which is wide open, a group of kids in cute costumes gathered around waiting for treats, she’s expecting the three looney witches from Hocus Pocus to emerge from the house. 

 When a man in a black top hat, tailcoat and a cane appears through the door with a bowl full of candy, she realizes how wrong she is. 

 Boy, is she wrong.

 Holy shit, he’s gorgeous. His skin looks ghostly white from the makeup on his face and he's wearing a brown curly mustache, but those vivid blue eyes are so very blue, even in the dark and under the hat he’s wearing. She’s afraid those eyes will set her on fire when he looks at her.

 “Trick or treat!” the children chorus. 

 Emma can’t take her eyes off the man as he excitedly hands out candy.

 “I love your costume, lassie,” he compliments a little girl who's wearing an Elsa costume.

 He has an accent? Holy hell.

 The little girl frowns, clearly not understanding what he meant by lassie. “I’m not a dog, I’m Elsa.”

 He chuckles, dropping a candy bar into her pumpkin bucket. “My apologies, Elsa. Please don’t blast me with ice.”

 “Thank you, mister,” she says cheerfully before scurrying down the steps to meet her parents at the end of the walkway. 

 “Trick or treat!”

 The man looks toward the small voice, seeing Henry approaching him. He grins big and wide, which makes him look much creepier than he already looks in his costume. Creepy, but sexy. “Well, hi there. Captain Hook, I presume?”

 Henry nods his head and opens his Halloween sack, using his plastic hook to hold one of the straps.

 “Very nice costume, lad. My favorite one so far.”

 “Thank you. I made it,” Emma boasts with a smile as she steps behind her son, placing the hat on his head. She’s not normally one to brag, but then again bragging doesn’t normally afford her the opportunity to talk to ridiculously handsome strangers.

 The man looks up, and when his eyes finally connect with hers, he completely steals her breath. She was wrong. His smoldering blue eyes don’t set her on fire, but they do make her melt.

 And his heavy stare makes her skin tingle.

 “You made this lovely costume?”

 She waves her hand nonchalantly. “It was easy. Just took a red, long-sleeved shirt, some ribbon and slapped some red felt and white feathers on a straw hat and voila.”

 “Very impressive, lass.” He glances at her shirt briefly before returning his eyes to hers. “Did you also make your costume?” he asks, his eyes dancing with mirth. He must have been referring to her red leather jacket and white t-shirt that reads, “This IS my Halloween costume.”

 Emma laughs. “No, I bought it on Amazon.” 

 “Wow, Mom, check this out! Full-size candy bars!” Henry shouts excitedly when the stranger deposits the candy bar into his sack.

 Emma tears her eyes from this man’s mesmerizing blue ones to see the full-size Snickers bar Henry’s holding out to show her. “Huh, people actually do give out full-size candy bars.” She looks up at the man. “I’m impressed. Let me guess, you also carved those pumpkins, too?” she asks, pointing to the pumpkins in his yard.

 He nods with a small smile. “I did. You’d be amazed by what I can do with these hands,” he says smugly.

 Emma wants to roll her eyes, but she can’t deny she very much wishes to find out exactly what he can do with those hands. Instead, she flashes a sarcastic smirk. “So who are you supposed to be, Jack the Ripper?” 

 He chuckles. “Not quite. I’m a gentleman from the Victorian Era. A devilishly handsome gentleman, may I add.”

 She cocks a brow, laughter bubbling in her throat. “If by a  devilishly handsome gentleman, you mean creepy.”

 He sets down the candy bowl and surprises her when he takes her hand in his and lowers his head, murmuring softly as he looks up at her. “The name’s Killian Jones. And it just so happens, I’m always a gentleman. Not just on Halloween.” His touch sears her skin, then he presses his lips to the back of her hand and it feels like electrical currents are surging through her. Her breath catches, and she’s worried he will notice. Judging by the smirk spreading across her skin, he definitely noticed.

 Emma turns her head, looking for her son, whom she spots in the yard playing games with the other kids, their parents supervising them. “I should get back to my son.”

 This man actually pouts as he releases her hand. And it’s freaking adorable. “I told you my name and yet you haven't told me yours?”

 She bites her bottom lip, contemplating whether she should or not. But then again, what’s the harm? It is a small town, so they’ll probably end up running into each other again at some point. “It’s Emma.”

 He grins, making her heart melt. “Nice to meet you, Emma.”

 “Likewise.” 

 He scratches behind his ear, which makes him look less creepy and even more adorable. “I’ve never seen you before. Are you new in town?”

 “I’m from Chicago.”

 “Well, love, welcome to Storybrooke.”

  Oh. Now he’s calling her love? Can this man get any sexier? Jesus Christ. “Thank you.” She gives him a shy smile and turns to head down the steps.

 “Wait. Before you go, I have a treat for you, too.” 

 She spins around, arching her brow. “Oh, that’s okay. Henry will share some of his candy with me.”

 He chuckles and shakes his head. “This treat is not for kids.”

 Emma gulps. “What kind of treat did you have in mind?” Something salty? Her mind definitely did not go into the gutter there. Okay, it totally did. 

 He heads inside, then returns not a moment later with a caramel apple. 

 “A caramel apple?” She almost sounds disappointed. But she’s definitely not.

 “Aye, but not just any caramel apple. It’s an adult caramel apple. So make sure you don’t share this with your lad.”

 She eyes it suspiciously. “It’s not laced with love potion, is it?”

 He chuckles and leans closer, whispering in her ear. “No. But it is laced with cannabis-infused butter.”

 Emma smirks as she takes the caramel apple. “Wow, you really go all out on Halloween, don’t you?”

 He shrugs. “You should come back around Christmas.”

 “Oh God, you’re not one of those people who goes completely crazy with the Christmas lights and the decorations and Santa and his reindeer on the roof, are you?”

 He shrugs again, donning a smirk. “Guess you’ll have to wait and find out.”

 “Is that an invitation?” Because she's definitely not thinking about inviting him to get high and engage in hot, sweaty sex with her. Not at all.  

 “Perhaps. Do you and your son enjoy hot cocoa and watching Christmas movies in front of a cozy fireplace?”

 She eyes the caramel apple and then glances up at him. “Does Santa enjoy adult cookies with his milk?”

 His grin widens, making her heartbeat skyrocket out of her chest. “Aye, then it’s a date.”

 Emma rolls her eyes, a smile tugging at her lips. “Not a date.” She doesn’t like the idea of waiting until Christmas to see him again, though.

 His face clouds with guilt. Sorry, love, I just didn't see a wedding ring on your finger so I assumed-”

 “I'm not married,” she clarifies, her cheeks flushing because of the fact that he was curious enough to check her hand for a ring. “Nor do I have a boyfriend. I'm single.” Very single. She's never been so glad to be single before.

 He sighs in relief, which gives her the courage to say what's on her mind and to thankfully change the subject.

 “You know, adult cookies aren’t just for Christmas...”

 He cocks his brow, and good Lord, she really needs him to stop doing that, because it’s doing things to her breathing and her heart. “No? What other special occasions are they for?”

 She shrugs. “Like a Saturday night, say next week when my parents are taking Henry for the weekend.”

 His eyes flash with something she can only describe as excitement. Or anticipation, maybe? “But still not a date, right?”

 She shakes her head. “Nope, just two adults enjoying their adult cookies.” 

 He laughs. “Okay, I’ll bring the apple cider.”

 “Sounds like a date,” she says accidentally when she had meant to say Sounds like a plan. But she doesn't even bother correcting herself as her cheeks warm with blush. She backs away and manages to rip her eyes from him to turn around and head down the steps. She finds Henry playing a game with the kids and takes his hand, telling him it’s getting late. He leaves with a groan but doesn't make a fuss. 

 As they leave the yard, Emma turns around, getting one last glimpse of the devilishly handsome Victorian gentleman. He winks and smiles at her, making her heart stutter, and she blushes and walks away as she leaves with her son.

  She had doubts when she moved to this small town to start over, but the warm feeling in her chest is telling her perhaps coming to Storybrooke wasn't a bad idea after all.

Tagging a few people who might be interested in reading:

@kmomof4 @teamhook @ilovemesomekillianjones @onceuponaprincessworld @artistic-writer @nikkiemms @snowbellewells @donteattheappleshook @itsfabianadocarmo​ @searchingwardrobes​ @melly326​

[imagineclaireandjamie]

I'm in desperate need of fluff and things outside this ridiculous shit going on in the world! Would one of or all of you amazing writers PLEASE write a fluff piece? Baby Fraser's? Baby MacKenzie's? Just something happy and not in the least bit tainted with the destruction of our actual reality. Thanks!

Murtagh on the Ridge AU

“Sorry,” Roger apologized as he shifted Jem down from his arms and hiked the empty game sack higher over his shoulder. He touched the knife at his belt and the bag with their midday meal slung over his other shoulder before nodding to himself, his mental checklist complete. “Bree just wanted to––”

“Aye,” Jamie interrupted with a raised hand. “It’s the lad’s first time on the hunt––”

Murtagh scoffed but Jamie ignored him.

“––I ken why ye’re late. Let’s no waste any more time or we’ll no be reaching home again till dark.”

“If we were goin’ a proper hunt it wouldna be an issue,” Murtagh muttered. He adored Jem in small doses but spending an entire day with the three-year-old without his mother to pass him off to when he got fussy wasn’t Murtagh’s idea of a productive way to spend the day.

“It’s how you and Da started me and Willie,” Jamie reminded Murtagh. “Or do ye no stand by yer own methods?”

“I wasna so old then as I am now. I had all the time in the world to waste on yer blatherin’ about the woods and scarin’ off the worthwhile game. Now…” he sighed as the ground began to tilt beneath their feet, the incline getting sharper and his breath coming dearer. “Now I should prefer an easier hunt––home in time for luncheon and an easy afternoon cleaning and butchering followed by a nice bit of fresh roasted meat for supper.” He practically smacked his lips at the thought.

“That being so, checking the snare line isna exactly a difficult task though it can be as tedious as waiting for a decent size stag to come along. Can yield more meat than a poor day’s hunting too, and ye ken that well,” Jamie teased.

“I wan Grandda carry me,” Jem complained already bored with walking.

“Now Jemmy,” Roger began to lecture but Murtagh interrupted.

“Jamie, carry the wee lad or we’ll ne’er catch nothing.”

Jamie beckoned for Jem to toddle over then got down on his knees and lowered his voice. “Tell me what ye see wee man.” He swept his hand and his eyes around the undergrowth. Jem’s eyes watched his grandfather intently then he got down to his knees and mimicked the movements at a much faster rate.

“Do ye see where our path lies?”

Jem screwed up his mouth and narrowed his eyes before pointing in a random direction. “Tha way.”

Jamie took the little hand and drew it a few inches to the left. “Do ye see the way through the trees there?” he asked. “Tha’s the way our line of snares is set.” Rising to his feet once more, Jamie surprised Jem by taking hold of him under the arms, swinging him up over his head, and finally settling the lad on his shoulders. Jem laughed loudly while Murtagh rolled his eyes and continued along their route, muttering under his breath. “Might be easier for ye to see it from up there,” Jamie said with a firm hold on Jem’s feet, keeping him safely in place.

Jem’s fingers wormed their way through Jamie’s hair clutching large clumps and treating them like reins. “Go, Grandda,” he instructed, pulling hard and making Jamie cry out. Murtagh laughed and Roger scolded.

“Go easy on him, Jemmy. Grandda’ll no let ye ride there again if ye pull his hair out at the roots.”

“What sorts of game to ye think we’ll find in our snares?” Jamie asked. They were making better time to the first trap and despite his head start, Jamie and Jem soon passed Murtagh on their way.

“A stag!” Jem exclaimed. “Like a one ye caught when it was before it rained that time.”

“Well, I caught that one wi’ a bullet from my gun, no a snare,” Jamie explained. “A stag would have little trouble getting free of a wee snare bein’ so big. What sorts of stews and pies do yer mam and gran usually make when I’ve come back from the snare run?”

Jem draped himself over Jamie���s head trying to peer down into his grandfather’s face. Jamie had to stop walking to look up at him, laughing. “Rabbit an’ squirrel an’ peasant an’––”

“Aye,” Roger cut him off, chuckling. “And those are the sorts of animals we’re like to catch today.”

“If we’re lucky,” Murtagh muttered. “Now hush. We’re comin’ up on the first trap and ye dinna want to make matters worse if ye’ve got a scared or injured animal tha’s got nothin’ to lose.”

“Why?” Jem whispered loudly in Jamie’s ear.

“Just because a creature’s caught, doesna mean he’ll no fight ye,” Jamie whispered back. “When ye play wi’ Germain and the lasses and one of ‘em catches ye, do ye no try to get away again and keep playing?”

“Isa animal gonna bite ye like Joanie bit Germain when he pulled her hair?”

“It’ll probably try,” Roger informed Jem.

Murtagh was inching closer to where the snare had been set, a stick in his hand pushing back some of the surrounding brush to see if he could find it. He finally looked up shaking his head.

“Tripped it but didna catch the wee fiend,” he told them as Jamie set Jem down and they got closer.

“Do ye ken what we do now?” Jamie asked Jem.

“Go the next one?”

“First, we need to set this one again. Now, I’m going to take it slow so ye can watch but ye’re no to touch. When we get back to the house we’ll see if yer grannie can spare some of her string for ye to practice yer knots with so next time ye can help set one yerself.” Jamie’s hands moved with practiced ease even as he tried to go slow.

Roger clapped Jamie on the shoulder before joining Murtagh and offering him a bit of cheese from the pack he carried. When the snare was just about finished, Murtagh and Roger started off ahead of Jamie and Jem.

“Jemmy, what say we see if we can track the way they go?” Jamie suggested.

“But they goin’ tha way,” he pointed.

“Aye, but we’re no goin’ to look at them,” he remarked taking his hand and using it to direct the lad’s head to the ground. “Look there––do ye see that? See the shape there? Who do ye think left that?”

“Da! There’s nother one,” he exclaimed following the footprints Roger had left in the soft loamy forest floor.

“And here––see how this is broken here? Tha’s Murtagh’s doing. He’s doin’ it to mark the way we come through so we can find our way back easily if somethin’ happens.”

Roger and Murtagh had stopped up ahead suggesting that this second snare had succeeded in catching something.

Jamie held a finger to his lips and Jem covered his mouth to suppress a laugh. They crept up on Murtagh and Roger but Jem’s giggling gave them away. Roger pretended to be surprised but Murtagh just frowned at Jamie then went back to staring at the creature rustling behind a huckleberry bush. It hadn’t given up trying to free itself so it had probably be caught recently. They saw flashes of black fur but couldn’t make out what it was.

“Seems bigger’n a hare,” Murtagh commented, his arms crossed over his chest. “Bit of fight in it too.”

“He’s stuck,” Jem observed sadly.

Jamie took up a long stick to try and poke at the huckleberry bush and get a better look at the creature they’d caught. “We need to take care. What’s the one Claire said ye should be wary of when it’s out in the day?”

“The one wears a mask,” Murtagh nodded.

“Raccoon,” Roger confirmed. “Could be one of them.”

“I’ma let him go,” Jem declared rushing towards the bush.

“No!” the three adults hollered as Jem struggled to push the branches of the bush out of his way and they got a better view of the squat black and white body of the creature who suddenly felt threatened.

“You guys are back earlier than––Mother of God, what’s that smell?” Brianna called as she pulled her arm from the laundry tub and buried her nose in the crook of her wet elbow.

“I don’t think we need to ask you what you caught,” Claire remarked, blinking away tears as the smell made her eyes water. “The real question is how many of you did it get?”

“Jem bore the brunt of it, I’m afraid,” Roger said apologetically. Jem was curled up against his chest, his clothes and hair still wet from an attempt to wash the smell away in the river. “We all tried a wash but I dinna think it’s done any good.”

“There’s not much that does help, I’m afraid.” Claire approached Jamie warily, her nose wrinkling as she got closer. “You’re sure Jem got the worst of it?”

“I was closest to him and tried to get him away,” Jamie explained.

Claire moved on to Murtagh. “You’re not too bad.”

“Jamie makes a fine barricade to hide behind,” he responded in much better spirits than the others now that they were finally home. “Is there naught ye can do for the stink on the wee lad?”

Jem had clearly cried enough to thoroughly exhaust himself yet still looked close to tears. Brianna inched closer and Jem opened his arms, eager to be taken and comforted by his mother.

“Bonjour Monsieur Le Pew,” Brianna greeted him as she took him from Roger and cradled him against her chest. With Jem’s face safely nuzzled against her neck, she started making faces at Roger, wrinkling her nose and trying to breathe through her mouth before mouthing to her mother, I can taste it, ugh.

“Monsieur Le Pew?” Jamie asked Claire quietly.

“I’ll explain later,” she whispered back.

“Didn’t they say that when a dog gets sprayed by a skunk you’re supposed to bathe them in tomato juice?” There was a hopeful note in her voice as her eyes slid from Claire to her vegetable garden by the side of the house.

“It’s an old wives tale that we’re not going to bother with,” Claire put her foot down. “We’re not wasting the tomatoes. All it does is mask the odor for a while but there’s no getting rid of it I’m afraid. Only time will help with that.”

“Time and a good airing out,” Jamie amended reaching over to take Jem from his mother’s arms. “Well, Jemmy, I think we’re goin’ to be sleeping outside tonight. Dinna want to be bringing the skunk smell indoors do we.”

“But whatta ‘bout the animals?” he asked warily.

“They’ll no want to get too close wi’ us smellin’ like we do. Yer da and I’ll show ye how to make a proper camp and sleep under yer plaid and the stars.”

“And if it’s all right wi’ you, Claire, I’ll sleep in my proper bed tonight,” Murtagh made his appeal.

Claire sniffed at him again and frowned. “You’ll have to stay in your room and keep the window open.”