By J. M. Allison
“Dougal wait! Yer da said we’re not supposed to play on Ben Binn. The fairies won’t like it!” Hamish sprinted after his cousin, the evening air nipping at his face.
“Don’t tell me ya believe in all that fairy rot me da prattles on about,” Dougal called back over his shoulder as he tromped up the steep hillside. “Ya scared o’ some wee fairy queen?”
“No.” The denial jumped to Hamish’s lips faster than his conviction. He wasn’t afraid. It just seemed… prudent to be wary of otherworldly things. Like always keeping a snack in his pocket whenever he left the house.
Hamish glanced back the way they’d come. The path back home was already disappearing in the fading light. If they didn’t turn around now, they risked trespassing on the fairy’s realm, and fairies didn’t exactly have a forgiving reputation.
“Hurry up, Hamish!”
Hamish ground his teeth and raced after Dougal. He crested the hill then doubled over, forcing the chilled air into his lungs.
“See? Nothin’ to fear.” Dougal slapped Hamish on the back and surveyed the view.
The last golden light winked out on the horizon, turning the deep greens and grays of the hills to dark emerald and near pitch-black shadows. The scent of the heather covering Ben Binn’s top hung heavy in the air, mixing with a sweetness Hamish immediately recognized. Oh, no.
“Dougal, please tell me we’re not up here to steal honey.” He spun to look at his cousin, then let his gaze wander to three young aspen trees several paces away. A sizable hive nestled among the lowest branches of the center sapling.
“Ya can’t steal somethin’ that don’t belong to anyone.” Dougal grinned as he dug into his sporran and pulled out a small knife. “And even if it were, nobody’s here to see us. So unless you dob, nobody’s gonna know.” He strode toward the tree and across a line of small stones arranged in a circle.
“Dougal, stop. You’re gonna cross the—” But his warning came too late.
“Night will not hide your crimes, boy,” spoke a soft, musical voice.
Hamish froze.
Dougal stood face to face with a beautiful woman. His jaw dropped and his complexion faded from a healthy tan to ghostly white as fear filled his gray eyes.
She glowered down at him, tall and regal. Her skin glowed like it’d been painted in stardust, and everything about her seemed delicate and ethereal. Her raven hair cascaded over her shoulders like waves of dancing shadows and a wreath of heather crowned her head.
“You’re… You’re…” Dougal scrambled away from the fairy queen.
“You have trespassed into my domain. You shall not leave as easily as you came.” Her demeanor and tone suggested cordial reserve, but her words held a menace that chilled Hamish to the core. Her gaze then drifted to him, and he fought the impulse to turn and flee. “You may go but take heed. Only sacrifice can conquer greed.”
Hamish stood transfixed. He knew they shouldn’t have come. Why had he listened to Dougal? There would be no way out of this mess. What punishment would she inflict?
“Your kind hunt for sport, for greed, and for pleasure. So, you will become a beast all the highlands will treasure.” A smile twisted her pale lips as her green eyes glinted with mischief and malice. With the wave of her hand, Dougal began to shrink.
His arms and legs receded into his body, transforming into spindly little pig legs. Hair sprouted all over his form, growing into a long, fluffy coat of brown fur. His eyes darkened, and his nose jutted out in a way that reminded Hamish of the squirrels back home.
“Dougal?” Hamish stared at the creature before him. How would he ever be able to explain this to his uncle?
The beast squeaked and snorted as it rooted through the grass at the fairy queen’s feet.
The queen’s musical laughter filled the air as she stooped down to pet poor Dougal on the head. “Life as a haggis will be fun and free, as long as no one tries to eat thee.” With another giggle, she stood and sauntered toward the aspen trees, disappearing in their shadows.
Hamish stared at his cousin. He’d eaten haggis before. His mother had sworn it was only sheep pluck, seasoned and cooked in the sheep’s stomach. But what if it had actually been some poor soul the fairies had transfigured?
No. Haggis weren’t real. Yet, he couldn’t pull his gaze away from the creature all sense told him didn’t exist. No one would believe him, but he couldn’t deny the truth. Dougal had been transformed into a haggis.
With a happy little snort, Dougal trotted to the far edge of the fairy ring and disappeared into the brush.
Hamish moved to follow but stopped himself.
Perhaps Dougal would be happier this way. No more chores or rules to obey. Then again, people like Dougal’s father often roamed these hills hunting small game. How many times had Hamish heard his uncle boast about almost catching a real haggis? How many others had the fairy queen transformed and left to roam these hills, cursed and alone? If people knew haggis existed, Dougal would never be safe.
Hamish scrambled after him, careful to go around the ring of stones and not through it. “Dougal. Dougal, come back!” He would just have to catch his cousin and convince his mother that haggis made good pets.
After all, it was the only prudent thing to do.
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