His Skean Dubh was sheathed in the oxter, the Cairngorm stone gleaming from the end of the handle. His dirk, bog wood sheath, with silver filament ado...ning the tip and front, sat on his sporran belt on his left side. His new cuarans, deerskin boots he had finely tanned, were tied to his legs with thongs, over his tartan hose, that were held up with ribbon garters. He adjusted his bonnet, so the feathers stood straight up, making him take one last look at himself before exiting his chambers. . I trembled as I did up his belt. He stood up as soon as I was done. I heard footsteps out of the room and then I saw him sit back down. I reached for his pants, eager to keep up my ministrations and earn my reward, but his hands reached out and stopped mine. He gripped me so hard it was painful. I stifled a cry. Maybe if I was quiet enough, he wouldn’t hurt me. Master forgave me sometimes, if I was being good before I made a mistake. He was a merciful master; maybe he’d let me go with just a. More

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