“Rannoch, Rannoch, ancient vein, Born of tears that fell like rain, Hear my heart, hear my plea, Guide us safe, set us free.”
The bridge, though cracked, held. Villagers began to emerge from the hamlet, eyes wide with wonder and gratitude. Children clutched their mothers, and elders whispered prayers to the river spirits. Seumas clapped a hand on Eòin’s shoulder, his eyes shining with pride. highlander torrent
Eòin MacLeòid stood at the edge of the old stone bridge, his boots planted on the slick flagstones that had seen a thousand feet of feet and hooves. He was a highlander through and through: broad‑shouldered, dark‑haired, with a scar that cut through his left eyebrow—a souvenir from a skirmish with the MacIntosh clan two winters ago. His great‑kilt was fastened tightly around his waist, the tartan of his ancestors flapping like a banner in the gusting wind. In his hand he gripped the haft of a long, ash‑wooden glaive, its blade dulled by years of use but still keen enough to cut through the mist that rose from the water. “Rannoch, Rannoch, ancient vein, Born of tears that