That blissful moment between sleep and consciousness, how he loved that sensation most when he fell upon slumber outdoors. He could smell the dew on the grass, so sweet to his senses which brought fond dreams. Looking from a not far distance, he was sitting on a tree stump near his mother’s old home. He could see his dearest sister, long blonde curls wrapped and pinned with one stubborn lock flowing in the breeze as she twirled a small boy. The beautiful smiles on their faces, smiles that blushed the cheeks and gave a warmth to your face. He too could feel that warmth, watching Cassy play outside with Duncan was the whole reason he enjoyed sleeping. It would be the only time he could ever do such a joyous thing. Little Duncan, all well and happy and aware. And she was alive. He only had these dreams when he would pass out in an open field or the grass between his home and the Tavern.
But his dream wasn’t about to last long this day, it came like a banshee’s wail the sound of the horn blowing. In his dream, Cassy and Duncan ad stopped twirling and looked at him, so sadly. He was leaving them again, not that he wanted to but that horn was giving him no choice. Awake, his eyes snapped opened as he exhaled a deep breath against the grass. His head turned to the side as he had fallen face down on his way home last night. Or, had he been returning to the Tavern for another round? It was hard to remember with that horn blowing through his skull, though that wasn’t the horn anymore, just the revenge of the ale from last night.
With a groan, Carter manages to pull himself up, stumbling for balance as he staggers in the direction he sees other blurred images going. Passing by a water barrel, he dips his hands in and splashes the cold contents on his face, the shock taking his breath but waking him a bit. Shaking his head he rubs his face then uses the moisture to pull back his hair. The grass stained town healer then staggers around a building where he comes upon a few others standing in shock and horror. Puzzled for a moment, he lingers a stare on everyone in his view, everyone was horror struck. Then finally he catches a glimpse of the two men who had pulled down a mangled calf from their horses. No, that wasn’t a calf. Dear God, that was a human body. Squinting his eyes he too finally felt the horror everyone else was feeling, that was Marc Bessom. One of his hands came trembling to his mouth, though the trembling was from the sudden sobriety he had just been forced into.
Carter’s eyes roamed the crowd again, catching sight of Bronwyn for a moment as his memories came flooding back in a drunken blur. Last night had been a glorious occasion, all the ale you could drink and no limit to the stories one could tell. He had stuck by Angus most that night, comparing his wild adventures to his own wild indoors adventures with the pretty brunette he had sitting, laughing on his knee. Marc had claimed most of the women that evening, using one up then moving on to the next. He remembered thinking, how a man could be so ignorant as to not treat a woman as the delicate blossom they are. Carelessness lead to wilting and more often he bare witness to Marc's mishandlings with a soft chuckle.
His focuses had been quite on Angus and his lap companion, until she too succumbed to wilting at the hands of our Lord’s son. Forgivable that had been but not what he had done to Duncan. It may had been true Duncan had started the scuffle but that spoiled child knew Duncan’s condition. As much as Carter wanted to break his mug over Marc’s head all he did was stand there, yelling reason, pleading. Had he not been Lord Robert’s son... none the less he failed Duncan. It shouldn’t have mattered, he should have stopped Marc’s insults, his abuse. When it was all done he followed after Duncan, followed him through the woods where he liked to go when he was upset or just wandering. It became blurry then, had he found Duncan? How did he get there behind the tavern, passed out where he fell?
Shaking his head he looked down at his ands, flipping them over and back. Small scraps were there, though he could have received those trying to find Duncan. He lifted his head just in time as he saw the Lord’s finger pointing directly at him and it filled him was such a fright he nearly dropped to his knees. He then heard the words spoken and his legs become so weak he had to fall back against the building behind him for support. Did he really believe that one of them killed his son? Carter knew everyone in the village and he couldn’t even try to wrap his brain around such madness. Even if everyone here had a damn good reason to see that spoiled, poor excuse for a man dead... it wasn’t one of them. But it seemed they had no choice, they only had a day before he punishes them all. Shaking his head again, his pounding and aching head, he slowly slides down the building onto the seat of his pants and brings both hands to his face. This was all too much to absorb, the shock making the man’s face pale beneath his fingers. Right now he couldn't bring himself willingly to say anything.