Once upon a time there was a Scottish Druid living deep inside the highlands.

He would occasionally visit the nearby villages to take care of people who had fallen ill or to make sure, that the people are safe from wandering ghosts and the mystic creatures living in the mountains and forests.

One night, then a storm was raging outside, with thunder cracking and lightning lighting up the darkness, he was woken up because he heard a sound from outside.

It was a different sound from the storm.

Not the thunderclaps nor the flushing of the rain.

In the first moment, he believed to only have dreamt it and told himself that there was nothing out there, but then he heard it again.

He stayed completely silent and listened to it, until he realized what kind of sound he had heard.

It was so misplaced out there in the storm and so rare for the Druid to hear, that he almost didn't recognize it.

It was the crying of a baby!, he thought, both surprised and shocked at the same time.

Hurriedly he went to the door and opened it.

Cold air flew towards him right away but the Druid didn't notice it.

The rain of that stormy night was falling heavily, building a curtain you couldn't see through and on the stairs, right infront of the door stood a basket woven from willows inside which a small baby laid, wrapped in a warm dark brown blanket with a green pattern of leaves.

The baby was crying loudly, so the Druid picked it up and held it in his arms, only to realize that even thought it was wrapped in a blanket, the baby body had grown quiet cold and was wet from the rain.

The Druid quickly casted a spell to make a warm wind blow around it to warm up the small child, who then stopped crying and looked at him with big, midnight blue eyes inside wich, golden sparks were shining.

The baby's eyes made the Druid remember the clear midnight sky of the highlands.

Only afterwards did the Druid realize that the storm had stopped and that it was completely silent, as if the world was holding it's breath, not brave enough to make a sound.

Even time seemed to have stopped.

Suddenly, the baby started laughing and reaching out it's tiny hands towards the Druid.

A smile rushed over the druids face, wich made his dark green eyes shine.

Then he snapped out of this magical moment and he looked around to find any kind of trace of the person who had laid the baby infront of his door.

But he found nothing and even if there had been any, they would have already been destroyed by the storm.

Moreover, since it was still raining he also couldn't go outside and search directly for them, and with a sigh he gave up.

He decided that he would go visit the villages at the feet of the mountain early next morning, in order to find any traces of the baby's family, but for tonight he would take care of it himself.

With that thought the Druid turned around, and entered the house with the baby in his arms.

The door closed with a shut behind him.

9 years later, 1529, Scottish Highlands

The boy ran out of the small cottage, which was hidden deep inside the mountains and looked around himself.

Suddenly a howl came from the forest on his right side and a big grey wolf ran out from between the trees, towards the small boy.

The boy squeaked surprised and happy then the wolf started liking him with his tonguen.

Laughing, he hugged the female wolf, who listened to the name of Neala.

She then turned half around so that the boy could quickly climb on her back.

His warm wool cloak waved behind him together with his, long black hair that was tied together with a simple hair band made from some old cloth, then they started running forward.

As the boy and the wolf ran further away from the house, he could hear his teacher, the Druid Farlan McCraig, call him:" Be careful and come back befor nightfall, Arlen!"

The boy, Arlen, quickly waved back to symbolize that he had understood.

Finally, it was Sunday again!

Today, he was allowed to go to the village at the feet of the mountain, just like every two weeks.

In Arlen's opinion it was way to seldom, and he would have liked it more to go every Saturday and Sunday, since he went to the village to visit his family.

Through the thought of them, his midnight-blue eyes started glowing happily.

Since around a year ago his teacher allowed him to go there alone, but befor that he had always accompanied him.

In his anticipation, the boy asked Neala to run faster.

She howled happily as answer and raised theier running speed.

She skillfully evaded trees, standing on the barley existing path leading through the forest.

To Arlen, it seemed as if they were flying.

The heavy but fresh scent of the woods filled the air and the rough wind Scotlands blew through his yellow Léinen, , a long-sleeved shirt-like tunic.

His light-brown Braise,who looked like wide wool pants, were fluttering around his legs and he was happy about his warm socks and comfortable, dark-brown leather boots, as he was feeling chilly from the weather.

Just how were most of the other boys able to wear kilts all the time?

Even thought Arlen also was a son of Scotland, he felt chilly way easier then the others in the village, including his brothers and father.

He was pullend out of his thoughts by the piercing ring of the churches bell, that came nearer with each step they took.

Seems like the Sunday church mass is already over, he thought.

Opposite to most over people he didn't care much about the church.

Besides the daily prayers at mealtime and a regular evening prayer every three days, he didn't really do anything.

Thought his mother always tried to make him pray more and attend the mass each Sunday, his teacher didn't have a high opinion of the church and believed Arlen's lessons on how to be a good Druid to be much more important.

Because of that, Arlen missed out on the mass most of the time and only rarely got the chance to attend them, ever since he became Farlan McCraigs disciple.

In that moment Neala jumped over a small stream crossing theier way and not much later they arrived at the outermost part of the forest.

From there, it was only a fifteen minutes walk to the village around which fields had been plucked from the earth through hard labor.

Arlen slided down from Nealas back and after licking over his face one last time, the wolf turned around and ran back inside the forest.

He turned his back on the forest and continued forward on the now much better path leading into the village.

With each step, he got faster until he was running the last third of the way.

He only stopped for a moment then he reached the market place in the middle of the small village called Kyleakin.

People passed by him who were also on the way home after the mass.

Arlen slipped through the people rushing in the directions of theier houses to quickly reach his family's house.

Even thought there only lived seven family's in the village it was still a total of more then 145 villagers.

But that was how it was: Most family's composed of three to four generations, a total of around 20 members per family.

Arlen kept going while his thoughts wandered a bit again.

Ever since he was five he only visited the village on a regular basis, thought the older he got the more his teacher had decreased the amount of times he was allowed to visit, since his study took up more and more of his daily time.

Farlan McCraig was an old friend of Arlen's family and noticed his talents as a Druid very early, but because the boys mother objected to it, he couldn't take Arlen as a disciple earlier.

Then the Druid started teaching him, his first lesson was about the origin of a Druid.

Unlike a normal human, druids are children, who are born between a human and a mystic being, for example a nymph or a forest demon, and through that non-human blood in them have special powers, related to nature.

After his teacher had told him that, Arlen had asked his parents who of them was a mystical beginning and why only he and not his siblings were born as Druids.

He could still clearly remember how his mother had bursted into tears and his father had gotten angry at his teacher.

His older siblings had avoided his gaze and stayed silent, watching the situation unfold.

Afterwards, they had explained to him that they found him then he was still a baby and had adopted him then.

At first, he had said that it was a lie, but in reality he had always know that he was different from his family.

His mother had light-brown hair and his father and all of his siblings had dark-brown one, similar to the trunk of an old tree, while his hair was pitch black, like the feathers of a raven.

Also, his siblings had blue-grayish eyes, resembling theier fathers, while his were midnight blue with golden sparks inside, which could only be seen then one looked closely.

Even his skin was whiter then theyers even thought he was outside as long as his siblings.

To top it of, he was very prone to cold for a Scottish boy.

Lost in thought, Arlen almost bumped into Kyle Tomran, the third son of the Tomran family.

Only in the last second was he able to avoid it.

He then hurried to get away from the other children playing in the marketplace.

He followed the small path leading besides the house of the Kerr family and further to the house of his, the Cameron, family.

Even after his family had told him the truth about him being adopted they still loved him like theier own and to him they also were his one and only precious family.

They had given him his name, raised him like all of theier other children and showered him with love in the same way as well.

In that moment he reached the wooden front door and stood still for a moment, listening to the voices, sounds and laughing inside.

He smiled, as he heard his oldest brother Calahan scolding his children, Arlen's nephews, because they had been to wild while playing around again.

He also heard his mother Ailis talking with his sister-in-law Faya, his sister Maria, who had married into the Murray family, and his sister Kayla, while the three of them were cooking lunch.

His father Kyle was laughing over something John Murray, Arlen's brother-in-law, had said.

He heard his second oldest brother Brannon telling a story to his other siblings while playing the harp.

After focusing his senses on the situation, he found out that Maria's sons were also listening to him.

Then he heard, how Maria told her first-born Markus to go and get a bit more firewood from the stock outside the cottage.

While his nephew opened the backdoor, loaded some wooden blocks on his arms and went back inside, he aprroached him and silently took up some wood as well, while a bright smile appeared on his lips.

Unnoticed, he followed his nephew inside.

Even thought he passed by his siblings so close, that he just needed to reach out his hand to touch them, nobody noticed him.

This was one of his powers as Druid.

He could erase his presence to the point of almost becoming invisible.

But after he had put down the wooden blocks, his mother said:" Halò, Arlen. You're just in time."

He started laughing quietly.

His mother was the only person besides his teacher who still always found him.

Only then they heard his laugh, the looks of all other people in the cottage shoot towards him.

In the first moment, they were dazed, then his siblings also started laughing and soon after the whole family was either laughingly or smiling brightly.

Arlen then went to his father and almost disappeared inside his hug.

His father was a man of forty years, whose dark-brown, shoulder-long hair had gray stripes inside.

His Kilt with the green tartan fit perfectly above his brown shirt.

His beard was well-maintained and with his high and muscular, bulky built he seemed like a bear.

"Let go of Arlen, you are going to crush him, Athair!",interfered Calahan.

"Oh, sorry, mo bheag. It's just been a while since your last visit.", his father answered laughing and let Arlen go.

"Mo ghràidh, it's only been two weeks.", his mother said.

She had wiped her hands at her apron and also gave Arlen a hug now.

"How about playing a bit with the others, until lunch is ready?", she said.

Arlen nodded and ran over to Brannon, there he sat down next to his sister Anna.

"Without you, it's really boring, Bràthair càraid.", she wishperd to him, as she leaned on to Arlen's shoulder.

"I also missed you, Piuthar càraid.", he answered.

It was an old nickname from befor theier parents had told them about Arlen's adoption.

Since they were the same age, everybody said that they must be twins.

Brannon had started telling his old Scottish Legends again and all of the children listened closly.

He really is a good bard., Arlen thought, Perhaps he will travel around telling his storys everywhere later on?