Sound of the Heart by Genevieve Graham Read Free Book Online

and both were comfortable in a fight, beating back whatever deluded fools thought to challenge them. They were also the ones who kept the men in fine spirits whenever possible, telling stories and encouraging others to do the same. Having spent months together by now, the stories were getting old, but there were ways to tell stories so they were always entertaining, and the two men were fine at that art. Dougal was convinced they would have made great friends in the outside world as well, had they been given the opportunity.
    The young boys slowly emerged from within their cocoon, gaining confidence now that attacks on them dwindled. They began entering into conversations, offering glimpses of their past. John had heard correctly. They were orphans who had come from way up in the North, farther than any of the other men had ever been. When their families all died of an illness that somehow left the two of them unaffected, they set off at the age of ten, brothers in every way but birth.
    They were smart, Dougal thought. Always listening, always alert, like the forest beasts with whom they’d spent their lives. The dark-haired lad, Joseph, was the louder, more assertive of the two. While both were reserved, Joseph was the one to bring up a story when it was called for, and to tell it with colour and flair.
    The other boy, Aidan, could also tell a pretty tale, but tended to leave the talk to his friend. As he grew more sure of himself, Aidan contributed to the general good of the group in a unique manner. On some evenings, when spirits lagged more than usual, he sang to the men. His voice was sweet and high as a lassie’s, soothing to the men, evoking bittersweet memories. More than one man, including Dougal, wiped precious moisture from his eyes when Aidan sang. Sometimes when Dougal watched the boys, he couldn’t help remembering Andrew, and missed him so much he wondered if a heart could indeed break like the poets claimed.
    Aidan was quicker than Joseph, both mentally and physically, with a lithe, slender form better suited to a rabbit than a Highlander. He wasn’t strong, but then again, none of them were anymore. The boys had taken to sleeping close to Dougal and John for protection, and on nights when sleep eluded him, Dougal stayed awake and listened to the noises around him. Sometimes, since he couldn’t hear inside the boys’ thoughts, he eavesdropped on Aidan’s habit of whispering in his sleep. The words were quiet, almost not there, but Dougal heard them, though he couldn’t understand a single syllable. There was something haunted about the whispering, urgent but unintelligible. A secret the boy’s dreams wanted to share.
    At other times the boy reversed the roles, staying awake so he could listen to Dougal speak, though Dougal wasn’t talking in his sleep. He encouraged Dougal’s endless stories and asked questions just so the words could go on and on. It saddened Dougal, because it was as if his simple words somehow fed the boy’s desperately lonely heart.
    “What is it ye want to hear, boy? Why do ye bother me so?” Dougal teased one night.
    “I dinna ken,” Aidan said, blue eyes smiling. “I only want to hear more. More about yer family, aye? I canna remember much o’ my own, but when ye talk, it helps me think o’ them a bit.”
    Sometimes Dougal felt drained by the end of the day, and his stories ran dry. Even then, Aidan stayed beside him, asking questions, sometimes offering insight into Dougal’s own thoughts. He was a very intelligent, perceptive boy, who always seemed to need . . . more. It seemed a shame he had been deprived of any sort of education besides the very basics.
    One night, when Dougal’s words faded away, Aidan asked a question that had been on Dougal’s mind for weeks. “What do ye think will happen to us?”
    They had been stuck in this place, doing nothing but aging. It was frustrating. The fact of their not knowing lengthened the stay interminably. “I’ve no