Free Shared by the Highlanders by Ashe Barker

heavy.”
    I turn to Robbie, hopeful. “So I can keep it then? Please? It has my things in it, stuff that might be useful. And food. I have my supplies in there too.”
    “You don’t fancy a nice bit of trout then, lass?”
    “What? Yes, of course. But…”
    “You’re too easy riled, wee Charlie. Of course you can keep your belongings. We’ll strap your bag onto one of the saddles. So, about breakfast…” Robbie steers our horse over to where Will is already kneeling beside the stream, his sleeve rolled up. He lowers me to the ground next to my precious backpack then slides down himself. “I’ll gather some firewood. Raw trout isn’t nearly so appetising.”
    I beam up at him from my position on the ground. I’m already reaching into my pack, the familiar sight of my twenty-first century equipment reassuring me that I’m not entirely mad. Even if I have just agreed to sleep with two seriously scary Scotsmen.
    I have several minutes to check the contents of my bag. Nothing has been disturbed; it’s clear that no one has been by since I dropped it yesterday. Everything is still here.
    Robbie returns and drops a pile of sticks on the ground before me. “A bit damp, but with some straw for kindling we might manage a blaze.” He peers up into the sky, now a brilliant blue dotted with just a few clouds. “And the day is becoming warmer as the sun gets higher.”
    It is becoming fairly warm, but still we need that fire to cook our fish. And I can do better than wrestle with the uncertain vagaries of moist kindling. I rummage in my pack for my field fire-lighting kit. I pull a small handful of flammable gauze from the vacuum-packed container and arrange that under the sticks. I’m aware of Robbie standing beside me, his boots planted just to my left. I ignore him and reach for the sticks, then arrange them in a small tepee shape over my ball of gauze. Next I find my cheap gas lighter, the sort you can buy in packs of ten at any tobacconist or duty-free shop. They’re ideal for camping, light and inexpensive. I click the top to produce a flame, then lean in to light the gauze. In moments the fire is crackling merrily, the sustained heat from my gauze drying the sticks so they ignite easily enough. I sit back on my haunches, pleased with the results of my efforts.
    I reach to drop the lighter back into my pack, but Robbie forestalls me. “May I look at that, please?”
    I pass it to him. “It’s a lighter…”
    “I saw what it did. How does it work?”
    I stand and reach for his hand, only afterwards realising this is the first time I’ve touched him voluntarily. His lopsided grin suggests he is aware of the significance too. He allows me to arrange the lighter in his hand, and place his thumb on the lever at the top.
    “You press that, it makes the flint spark, and that ignites the gas inside.”
    “Gas?”
    “Yes. Liquid gas. You can see it, there.” I tap the clear plastic casing to ripple the liquid, visible inside. “That’s the fuel. When it runs out you throw it away and get another one.”
    “You have another one?” His eyebrow is raised, his expression somewhere between incredulous and admiring.
    “Yes. I always carry a spare.”
    “Spare what?” Will approaches us, carrying three shimmering fish upside down by their tails. “Good. You have a fire. Now we just need to gut these…” He brandishes his catch, clearly expecting some assistance from here on.
    “With your permission we’ll be having a good look through your bag, young Charlie. I reckon you’ll have some fascinating items to show us, aye? But first, we eat.” Robbie kneels beside Will and the pair of them use their daggers to gut the fish. Not to be outdone, I remove my snug jacket in deference to the rapidly warming morning and dig into my rucksack again and this time retrieve a pack of narrow wooden kebab skewers. I use those to spit the pieces of fish as they are prepared, and hold those over the licking flames. Neither