Your Questions Part 4 and Reverse Q&A!

/ C. R. Hedgcock

Hello everyone! 🙂

It’s been a while since I did a Q&A post here (sorry about that). Many of you were intrigued by the idea of a reverse Q&A, where I ask you things I’m curious about. So after tackling a few of your questions, I’ll ask you some of my own!

 

1) Will the Predzels be in any future books?

I’m not sure yet. I haven’t planned to include them, but they may appear in a future story if they could help the main characters.

 

2) Did Sigurd get Gleym back?

Yes, definitely. 🙂 I love the fact that you remembered to ask about her!

 

3) Do we know what happened to Jigson’s parents?

Oh, I can’t wait for you to read Hunting in the Highlands! The answer is yes!

 

4) How much of the Hrein Orka in Iceland Intrigue is based on real science, and how much is fiction?

It’s mainly fiction … but who knows? Maybe there are principles of it that someone has yet to discover 😉

 

5) What is the significance of ‘Twelve Lemons’?

It’s a phrase with quite a personal meaning for Jigson and Detective Mortimer – otherwise it wouldn’t have guaranteed Jigson’s identity in Iceland Intrigue.

Is it part of a big mystery? Or is it something more innocuous? Will they spill the beans in Book 8? … Maybe!

 

6) When you wrote Hunting the Highlands did you plan out the whole book before you started writing?

Yes. I did make a careful plan so that the book would progress with logical structure and so I would know where the story was going – it had the potential to be quite confusing with characters splitting up and traipsing all over Scotland.

But the need to be flexible arose when I reached the end and realized that the climax was not right for the story … so a whole new ending had to be written!

Do you have burning questions for a future post? Send them via the contact page!

Now … here are my questions for you! 🙂

1. Who are your top 2 favourite male characters?

2. Who are your top 2 female characters?

3. Who is your favourite villain? (Miss Verton, Lewis Nickel, Bud Larone, Rolf/escaped convicts, Dainn, Herr Klaus, or someone else?)

4. Which is your favourite title in the series, and why?

5. Should one of the characters be in a relationship/courtship? Who and why? (I’m not promising anything by asking this 😉 I’m genuinely curious! 🙂 )

I look forward to finding out what you think! 🙂

4,874 thoughts on “Your Questions Part 4 and Reverse Q&A!”

  1. Look, guys, I am sure Phil is fine! maybe, I am not sure actually since I have literally NO idea what I am doing with this story I just write and what comes will come!

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  2. Okay, my day is a little less busy so I have been working on it.

    Andy sat on a log watching his sister sleeping, her chest heaved up and down, and her breathing was heavy, oh Lord, don’t let her die! He cried inwardly. He stood up there were things that needed to be done, “fire,” He said out loud, and hopefully a rescue force would be here soon to look for survivor’s the smoke from a fire would help show their whereabouts. Quickly he set about building a stack of firewood from the dead limbs and branches from the few trees on the small island, then he checked his pockets, his small pocket bible, a penknife, and his torch, he tried it, it was still working. The sun was still high in the sky he grabbed is penknife one of its functions was a magnifying glass, it took him half an hour since he never tried to light a fire this way, but finally the pile caught a spark, cupping his hands he laid on the ground and gently blew until the whole pile was alight. He stood up and brushed the sand from his knees, then stocked up all the wood he could. He sat down exhausted. A small bug crawled onto his hands, “I really hope a rescue force comes soon, we don’t have any food or water.” He told the bug, then groaned “great now I’m talking to bug!” He fell silent, nothing was to be heard but the crackling of the fire. Then suddenly there was a loud groan, “Abby?” Andy was immediately at her side, but she was still asleep He glanced around nervously. He stood up the groaning could be heard but it sounded far-off. He started walking towards the sound from the other side of the island, it got louder, all that was between him and the sound now was a pile of large rocks, Andy picked up a stick from the ground, and edged closer to the end of the pile. His heart beat faster and faster and then in a sudden move a jumped out from behind the rocks, then stopped dead still as he saw what lay before him.

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  6. Here is my next Cassidy scene, and probably my last one:)

    Cassidy woke up very early the next morning. Slipping out of bed, she opened her suitcase and rummaged around. She wasn’t used to wearing anything besides her usual kaki hiking pants, and heavy jacket. But now that she was in America, she didn’t want to attract any undue attention. Pulling out a long, flowing dress, she held it up and looked into the mirror. She frowned, dresses were not in her line. In fact, Cassidy couldn’t remember the last time she wore a dress. But, if anything would make her look different, a dress would. With a slight grimace, she slipped it on.

    Giving her hair a quick brush, she went to wake Wylie. His room was just across from hers. Mrs. James had thoughtfully given them rooms side by side. The carpet made no sound under Cassidy’s feet. She opened Wylie’s door silently, and knelt by his bed.

    “Wylie.” she whispered, shaking his shoulder slightly. “It’s time to wake up.”

    She tried to speak softly, but it went against her nature. At the Glen, it had been orders all day long, and she had been the one giving them. Wylie opened his eyes and got up without a word. Cassidy gave a slight smile. At least he had not forgotten his training. Quietly, he started to pull on his thick canvas jacket.

    “No Wylie, you must not wear those cloths anymore. We need to fit in with everyone else.” said Cassidy firmly.

    Wylie sighed. Looking around in his backpack, he pulled out a pair of jeans and a tee-shirt. As he turned to show his sister, his jaw dropped in amazement. “Cass,” he breathed.

    “What?” said Cassidy with a hint of impatience in her voice.

    “I…I’ve never seen…you.”

    “You have never seen me in a dress. Is that a problem?” she retorted.

    “No.” replied Wylie with a grin. “You look nice.”

    Cassidy narrowed her eyes. “Wheesht! It’s not my choice.”

    Wylie stepped into the bathroom to get dressed. “I don’t know if I’m fit to go down with such a bonnie lass.” he muttered.

    “I heard that Wylie Graham Drummond!” said Cassidy.

    Wylie tried to disguise a chuckle with a cough.

    “It’s not funny!” said Cassidy crossing her arms. “Now move quickly, we haven’t all day.”

    In a few seconds, Wylie reappeared in his casual outfit.

    “Now brush your hair.” commanded Cassidy.

    “Brush…my…hair?!” exclaimed Wylie in horror.

    “We need to fit in. You can’t go around looking wild and rugged. Forget how you looked like at Glen Creag. We live in America remember?”

    Wylie grumbled as he found a brush in the bathroom.

    “Now wet your hair, and comb it to the side.” instructed Cassidy.

    Wylie looked pained. “Fine.” he said. “But this is going a little too far.”

    Cassidy examined her brother critically. “It doesn’t look half bad.”

    “Don’t even think of saying that!” warned Wylie.

    “Come let’s go downstairs.” said Cassidy, ignoring the remark. As they walked across the hallway, Cassidy caught a glimpse of herself in a mirror. She raised an eyebrow. The green, calf-length summer dress contrasted admirably well with her copper hair, and the braided belt that gathered the waist gave it a slightly wild look. Not too terrible, she thought.

    The made their way downstairs. It was 6:30 in the morning and Cassidy hardly expected to see anyone. But she was greeted with a quiet good-morning by Abby, who was sitting in the living room reading her bible. Cassidy and Wylie sat down on a sofa across from her. Abby glanced up with a smile, and then a look of surprise spread over her face. Cassidy glared at her, but didn’t speak. Wylie gave Abby a knowing grin.

    “Uh…how did you sleep?” asked Abby, trying to break the ice. She noticed that Cassidy and Wylie both were sitting on the edge of the sofa, ramrod strait, hands clasped in their laps, gaze fixed ahead.

    “Well enough.” replied Cassidy.

    “It is strange how God works isn’t it?” continued Abby warmly. “Last time we saw each other, it was under slightly different circumstances.”

    Cassidy didn’t answer.

    “Can I get you anything?” Abby offered. “Tea perhaps? Or do you prefer coffee?”

    “I would like a cup of tea, if it’s no trouble.” replied Wylie.

    Abby turned to Cassidy, but she just shook her head.

    Abby walked to the kitchen and plugged in the electric kettle. “What kind do you like?” she called to Wylie.

    “Black please.” he replied.

    “Any milk or sugar?”

    “No thank you.” Wylie shook his head. He leaned back against the couch in a relaxed way, then nudged his sister. Cassidy frowned at him.

    “I thought we were supposed to fit in.” he pointed out.

    Slowly, Cassidy copied her brother’s posture.

    “Mrs. James thought we could take a drive to say hi to my family.” Abby continued. “She has to bring me back there anyway. Would you both like to come?”

    Wylie smiled. “I would like that! Will Tom be there?”

    “You bet.” said Abby. She poured out a cup of tea for Wylie and herself. If he can drink it black, I can drink it black, she thought. Maybe it tastes better. She returned to the living room and sat down. Passing Wylie his tea, she tried a sip of her own. Making a face, she set it down on the table. Ok, it didn’t taste better. She looked up quickly then sat back, relieved that they hadn’t noticed.

    “Good morning!”

    The trio looked up to see Mrs. James walk into the living room.

    Cassidy and Wylie both half-rose with their hands clasped, then caught themselves and quickly sat down.

    “You three are awake early.” Mrs. James remarked.

    Cassidy didn’t answer. Usually, she got up at 5:00 AM for morning drills. She had tried to force herself to sleep in. Obviously, it hadn’t worked.

    “I hope you are all hungry; I’m making a big breakfast. Did you sleep well?”

    There were two nods. Mrs. James didn’t comment. She disappeared into the kitchen and Abby followed her. Cassidy stood up uncertainly.

    “Oh Cassidy, would you mind giving me a hand?” called Abby. “I want to learn how to make porridge like they do in Scotland.”

    Cassidy was taken aback. “I…I have never really made porridge. At the Gle…that is to say…we…I wasn’t the one in charge of the cooking.”

    “Oh of course. How silly of me!” exclaimed Abby. “I had forgotten your position there. Sorry if I have given offence.”

    Cassidy looked at her narrowly to see if she was just being sarcastic, but Abby just seemed sincere. “It is no matter.” she replied stiffly.

    “I have an idea.” continued Abby. “Lets find a recipe for Scottish porridge online, and then you can tell me it if tastes right.”

    While Abby and Cassidy browsed for some instructions in porridge making, Wylie wandered around the house, exploring. Mrs. James lived on the edge of town, her house overlooking a large forest and Wylie was certain that he would spend most of his time there. The house was very quaint, almost like a cottage. The big fireplace in the living room, gave it a grand look, and there were many little rooms to see.

    At the top of the staircase, there was a small library. Wylie went in quietly, and looked around. There was another fireplace in the corner, and several bookshelves. But this was not what first caught his eye. In the corner of the room was a round table and on the table was a bust of Motzart. As Wylie looked closer, he saw a small crack in the side. Running his fingers along it, her felt a bump where the crack started. As his fingers touched it, there was suddenly a scraping noise, and the bookshelf slid to one side, revealing a secret room. Wylie’s eyes widened. He tried touching the button again, and the bookcase moved back. His curiosity now aroused, he felt the bust for any other buttons. He tried to press the eyes, and to his amazement, the fireplace swung open and revelled another secret room. Wylie now gazed over the entire library, looking for anything else that might open a secret chamber. Pulling back the rich, indian rug, he discovered a trap door underneath, a hidden panel behind the grandfather clock, a false bottom built into one of the bookshelves and a drawer in the wall. He was so occupied in his discoveries, that he did not see Mrs. James standing behind him.

    “So you found my secret rooms?” she said with a smile.

    He jumped and turned around.

    “You are a clever boy.” she remarked. “Make sure you do not speak to anyone of this.”

    Wylie was shocked that she would think this of him. “Of course not!” he replied indignantly.

    “Good. Now come downstairs, and have some breakfast.” she concluded.

    Wylie followed silently. But before leaving the library, he looked around one more time. And what he saw made him freeze in his tracks.

    The bookcase had moved and was standing partly open. And inside the room was a man, dressed in black and looking at him from the shadows.

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  7. Next part! I hope you don’t mind it coming in short bits

    “Charles! You have to help me get out of here!” Jigson pleaded with his friend, Mr. Baker shook his head, “I’m sorry Jigson but I can’t do that. You’re hurt and you need to stay in the hospital.” “You don’t understand!” “What don’t I understand?” Mr. Jigson stopped and his voice softened “Charles look. I…need to go to Russia.” “Where you sent my children?” Mr. Baker choked, “no I’m sorry, I…I need to go, my wife needs me.” He stumbled out the room tears blinding his way “Charles!” Jigson called after him, then sank back into his bed with a sigh. He sat up in surprise as I sudden idea came to him, then winced as his head throbbed in pain. He grabbed his phone that lay on the table next to him and scrolled through the numbers, finding the correct one he quickly clicked it and brought the phone up to his ear. “Hello? Alistair, this is…Jigson.”
    Alistair stepped in the door of Jigson’s hospital room “Sir!” He said raising his hands in a glen salute, Jigson frowned “don’t do that.” “Sorry, sir.” “Thank you for coming to Alistair.” Jigson said, indicating for him to sit down on the seat next to him “please, sit down.” He did. Jigson went straight to the point, “I heard you came to America once the glen closed down.” Alistair nodded “what about your parents?” he asked, “they’re gone, sir.” Alistair whispered Jigson’s face darkened “I see. Well, I need your help.” Alistair’s face brightened “yes sir how can I be of service?” “I need you to get me out of here.” “Sir?” Alistair’s face betrayed his confusion. Jigson lowered his voice “I need to get to Russia. And you are coming with me.”
    Alistair rolled out from under the bed as the nurse turned the lights off and closed the door to Jigson’s room. “Phew! It’s stuffy under there! Okay, the nurse comes by this way every half an hour, so we have about thirty minutes to get out of here.” Alistair whispered Jigson nodded. “Help me get out of bed.” He ordered. With Alistair’s help Jigson managed to pull a pair of bloodied jeans and a sweatshirt over the clothes from the hospital, Alistair stuffed a selection of first aid supplies into a backpack “let’s go.” Jigson commanded. The two crept out of the door into the dimly lighted corridors and towards danger.

    Andy trembled as he stared at the sight before him, a figure lying face down on the ground; his blond hair ruffled and bloodied “Phil?” Andy whispered unable to move, the figure groaned again, Andy rushed to his side “Phil! I can’t believe…” Andy stopped in shock as he saw the face of the man “Rolf?”

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      • I am glad you like it 🙂 I read you guy’s comments about the unnamed “Phil” and thought 9it was going to be Phil.) who else could I use, then I remembered Phil and Rolf look very much alike!

        Rolf groaned “Andy?” Andy licked his dry lips “Rolf, what are you doing here??” “I could ask you the same thing.” He grunted, “Were you on the plane?” Andy asked “no I tripped over a stick.” He said sarcastically. Andy pulled himself together “I’m sorry Rolf its just…I was hoping you were Phil.” He mumbled “can you walk?” “Maybe, help me up would you.” Rolf said, Andy helped him stand, Rolf leaned on his shoulder and painstakingly the two made their way back to Abby, Andy propped Rolf up by a log near the fire. “Why were you on the plane Rolf?” Andy asked deciding this was not the time to beat around the bush. Rolf sighed “I was the pilot.” “What?! I didn’t know you could fly a plane!” Andy cried, Rolf smiled grimly “there are allot of things you don’t know about me Andrew Baker, allot.”

  9. I think we have gone way overboard on this, guys! One of my sisters thinks we’re insane, crazy, wasting time, and pointlessly commenting empty things just because.
    I agree with her somewhat…..I mean, what are we doing this for?! But I’ll admit, this is pretty fun! 🙂

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  14. Here are the bits I have done I posted a few together as I edited a bit.

    Alistair stepped in the door of Jigson’s hospital room “Sir!” He said raising his hands in a glen salute, Jigson frowned “don’t do that.” “Sorry, sir.” “Thank you for coming Alistair.” Jigson said, indicating for him to sit down on the seat next to him “please, sit down.” He did. Jigson went straight to the point, “I heard you came to America once the glen closed down.” Alistair nodded “what about your parents?” he asked, “they’re gone, sir.” Alistair whispered Jigson’s face darkened “I see. Well, I need your help.” Alistair’s face brightened “yes sir how can I be of service?” “I need you to get me out of here.” “Sir?” Alistair’s face betrayed his confusion. Jigson lowered his voice “I need to get to Russia. And you are coming with me.”
    Alistair rolled out from under the bed as the nurse turned the lights off and closed the door to Jigson’s room. “Phew! It’s stuffy under there! Okay, the nurse comes by this way every half an hour, so we have about thirty minutes to get out of here.” Alistair whispered Jigson nodded. “Help me get out of bed.” He ordered. With Alistair’s help Jigson managed to pull a pair of bloodied jeans and a sweatshirt over the clothes from the hospital, Alistair stuffed a selection of first aid supplies into a backpack “let’s go.” Jigson commanded. The two crept out of the door into the dimly lighted corridors and towards danger.

    Andy trembled as he stared at the sight before him, a figure lying face down on the ground; his blond hair ruffled and bloodied “Phil?” Andy whispered unable to move, the figure groaned again, Andy rushed to his side “Phil! I can’t believe…” Andy stopped in shock as he saw the face of the man “Rolf?”
    Rolf groaned “Andy?” Andy licked his dry lips “Rolf, what are you doing here??” “I could ask you the same thing.” He grunted, “Were you on the plane?” Andy asked, “no I tripped over a stick.” He said sarcastically. Andy pulled himself together “I’m sorry Rolf its just…I was hoping you were Phil.” He mumbled, “can you walk?” “Maybe, help me up would you,” Rolf said, Andy helped him stand, Rolf leaned on his shoulder and painstakingly the two made their way back to Abby, Andy propped Rolf up by a log near the fire. “Why were you on the plane Rolf?” Andy asked deciding this was not the time to beat around the bush. Rolf sighed and lifted his arm as he accepted Andy’s help bandaging his gunshot wound “the bullet went straight through.” He muttered, “That’s good.” “Why would that be good?” Andy asked as he wrapped the bandage round, Rolf grunted: “you don’t have to remove it.” “I was the pilot.” “What?! I didn’t know you could fly a plane!” Andy cried, Rolf smiled grimly “there are a lot of things you don’t know about me Andrew Baker, allot.”
    Stone walls, stone floor, stone ceiling. Nothing but stone and a wooden bed, Where am I? That was the question. He groaned and gingerly lifted his chained hand to his head. He felt a sticky substance lowering his hand he examined it. Blood, he winced no wonder it hurt. He glanced around, nothing to see but stone. His last memories were of the plane crash, Abby and Andy had jumped. He had stayed to help a young mother and her children. But then he couldn’t find any more parachutes, someone had shoved him one and jumped out with him but then he remembered no more, must have banged my head. The door to the stone cell was banged open “Philip Baker.” Phil glanced up and gasped “I’ve been waiting for this moment a very, very long time.”
    Alistair helped Jigson into the car, the passenger seat, “I can drive.” Jigson grunted, “with your arm in a sling?” Alistair laughed “I’ll drive.” “where are we going.” Alistair asked, “to Russia.” Jigson answered shortly eyes closed and head leaning back “Airport.” He said, Alistair raised an eyebrow, “do we have a ticket?” Mr. Jigson almost smiled “we will.”
    Phil sighed, this next cell was worse than the last, at least there was a cell door with a barred window he could look out, and he had a roommate, a fourteen-year-old boy named Jonathan. “Why are you here?” Jigson had asked the boy shrugged “the same reason you are I suppose.” Phil stood up and walked to the door, he banged on it, “Hey! I’m an American; I have connections with the American embassy! You can’t lock me up!” “I don’t think they hear you.” Jonathan commented after a few minutes of banging “oh they hear me alright. They just…Don’t care.”
    “Rolf! There hear!” Andy cried jumping and waving his arms “the rescue boats!” Abby sighed relived her prayers had been answered. One of the smallest boats came to the shore “ahoy!” The driver called, Andy ran up to him to explain the situation, he nodded and three of them came over, two to carry Abby and one to help Rolf. Another two men quickly started a search on the small island for any others but found none. “We found quite a few living people in the ocean.” He told Andy. Andy’s heart leaped there was a chance Phil was with them.

    I am not sure how much more I am going to do, so this might be my last, now that you know Phil is alive.

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  15. Sandrina! You said the pilot died!! I agree that we should probably check with Miss Hedgcock if she wants us to keep going. Leah, your last Cassidy scene was great, and so funny! Sandrina, for your last scene did you copy the part in the Novacom saga where Arthur says you have to get me out of here? Or did you just write it and totally forget about that? Sandrina!? Write more!!
    I am nearly done on my next scene, and I will post it soon. I am planning to make all my scenes into a novel (not for publishing of course, just for fun)

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  18. Please pardon us for the late reply to the earlier comments.
    We think, what Annie was trying to get through to us, is that on this Q & A page we have strayed away from the main subject. Honestly, we all, including us, have answered Miss Hedgcock’s questions a long time ago.
    Maybe, if it is all right with Miss Hedgcock, we should stick strictly to Baker Family Adventure related material on this page. But, if you want to get to know each other better, or discuss hobbies, movies, poetry and etc., we think it would be wiser to open a Viber, WhatsApp, or Telegram group (as to not overstep any bounds in any measure).

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    • Yes I see your point. I have also been thinking of this for the past few weeks, and I just wrote to Miss Hedgcock. I’ll wait for her reply, and then we can just see what she says about the whole thing.

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      • I agree, we have strayed from the subject. But, we have also made new friends, and discussed valuable interests, tips, and questions that have helped us to be better writers. I for one want to keep doing this but I do not want to keep doing it on this blog without permission from Miss Hedgcock, seeing as we have kind of taken over her blog.

      • I completely agree Leah. And I also see the point. Though I know for me and probably Lucia, we wouldn’t be allowed to do Whatsapp and those others things.

      • Same here. I never got into social media or anything like that, as I think I might get a little too attached. I really enjoyed chatting on the blog, but I’m not doing facebook or instagram or anything like that. My parents would just prefer I didn’t.

      • Yes, that’s why this blog has been really fun! but if Miss Hedgcock deems it best for us to stop for any reason I would, of course, be fine with that.

    • And I don’t get the email whenever I comment happens so I just go on sometimes. If I got the email I’d want to reply.

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    • Well said, Pinkelstein Sisters, and I agree.
      Please know I wasn’t trying to hurt you or Annie with my comment about not being a fan of the comments that had been posted – and I apologize if I did. The sharpness was a little unexpected as well as the fact that most of the comments were specifically directed at Parker while the rest of us have been commenting as much or more.

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  20. Ok here is the next Cassidy scene. It’s quite short.

    Mrs. James turned around. “Who are you?” she called out. “Stop!”

    The man didn’t even look at her. Pushing back the secret door, he ran towards the window in the corner.

    Mrs. James didn’t hesitate. She ran up the stairs and into the library. The man was standing on a sofa. Mrs. James ran two more steps and grabbed at him. The man dodged her hand. As Mrs. James recovered her balance, the intruder stepped back, and then ran at the window. Wylie watched in amazement. The man leaped off the sofa back and threw himself across the room. With a loud CRASH, the window shattered as his body made impact with the glass. Mrs. James ran to the opening, just in time to see the stranger hit the ground two stories down and make a neat roll. Jumping to his feet, he started to run, and in a few minuets, had disappeared into the forest.

    Mrs. James turned to Wylie. “This was not an ordinary break in. He wasn’t after anything. He was after you.”

    “Me?” gasped Wylie.

    “You and Cassidy. I had been suspecting someone was following you two. I tried to throw him off, but this man was well trained. Now he knows you are here. What’s more, he found my hidden rooms.”

    “So now, we need to form a defence plan and an escape route.”

    Both turned to see Cassidy on the steps. She walked into the library and looked at the broken glass.

    “Also,” she said dryly. “I suggest that we update this window with a new tripple-pane unit. This glass looks like it is the original from the late 1800s.”

    “True. I hadn’t thought of that.” agreed Mrs. James. She turned to the little group on the steps. Abby had come from the kitchen and was watching to proceedings with interest.

    “Did any of you recognise the intruder?” Asked Mrs. James.

    Cassidy eyes took on an intense look. “No.” she said slowly. “But he seemed familiar. Very familiar.”

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  24. Leah!!! You can’t end there!!! Who was the man in black? Was it Tristan or someone else from the glen? I’m on the edge of my seat! I don’t do social media (except for this blog) and email. Here is my scene about Alistair: Alistair climbed the last rise, and was rewarded with an amazing view. The mountainside fell steeply below him, a seemingly never ending sea of pine and spruce stretching for miles. Snow-capped mountains far in the distance thrust their white heads into the clouds, and a raging river cascaded down from a spring near the highest peak. The wind whipped his hair against his face, but he brushed it away and carried on down the mountain path. To him, hiking in these conditions was nothing new. He spied something and darted behind one of the large spruce trees. He cautiously pulled an arrow from his quiver. A dark shape appeared from a thick gorse bush. Alistair lined up the arrow with his target and let go. It flew through the air, and the object keeled over. Alistair strapped his bow on his back and began to descend towards the boar. It was large and fat, and had huge white tusks sprouting forth from its upper jaw. Alistair wrenched the arrow out of its chest and wiped it off on a clump of moss nearby. I need all my arrows right now. He pulled a small macheti out of his quiver. I can’t afford to carry it with me. I’ve got a long journey ahead. He quickly skinned and gutted the boar, and began to build a fire to smoke the meat on. He cleared a fire ring in the centre of a group of trees, and began to try to find some firewood. It had rained heavily in the night, so he began to look for fatwoods and dead standing wood. He found a dead scots pine, its large trunk having fallen in the forked branch of an old oak. The roots had been torn out of the ground, creating a natural wind break. Alistair made note of the location, and kicked the lower part of the tree trunk. It splintered and crumbled beneath his heavy black hiking boots, and several ants and woodlice fled from small holes in the bark. Perfect. He took again the macheti from his quiver, and began to use the serrated edge to saw off one of the larger roots. He then carried it back to where he had left the boar. He crumbled the root into smaller pieces and made a neat pile in the centre of his fire ring. He had picked some of the long grass he had passed through earlier, knowing it would make great tinder. Using his Ferro cerium rod, he rubbed the blade of his knife against it to create sparks, which flew onto the straw. It began to smoke. He gently picked it up in his hands and began to blow on it. Slowly but surely, more and more smoke began to emerge from the tinder, then suddenly burst into flame. Alistair placed it onto his woodpile, and blew on it to fan the flame even more. He soon had a crackling fire. As he began to slide the meat onto a long stick, he remembered the last time he had done this. In Scotland. With Thomas and Jigson. He sighed. Somehow the Bakers had made a lasting impression on him. Alistair was not usually one to be influenced by others, but the way they had worked together as a family, the bravery and trust they showed, but most of all the love, had filled him with a sense of longing. He remembered Abigail, the patience, perseverance and courage she had showed in trying to help him. He remembered Andrew, his headstrong determination and his seemingly boundless energy only a part of a character which was loyal and true, and who nearly sacrificed himself so that his family could get through. To help him. He remembered Tom, his childish optimism and simple faith that had enabled him able to survive the glen’s harsh system. How he had tried his best to go with them, and never once complained. He had helped him. He remembered their parents, the care that they showed constantly and the love that was unwavering. His parents weren’t like that. They were mainly just landlords to him, and stayed out of his way, as if disappointed in him. He wondered if the had even noticed that he was gone. Deep down, Alistair knew he had done the right thing, but it still hurt. Jigson. He wasn’t a member of their family, but they treated him like one. His words came back again to him: “Are you Alistair Macgregor, of Clan Gregor, or are you Alistair of Glen Creag?” He had taken Alistair with him on his mission. He had trusted him, and had helped him as well as he could. He was ready to lay down his life for the family he loved so much. But the one who had made the greatest impression was Philip. He made obvious the love and protection he felt towards his siblings, and they respected him for it. He honoured his father and mother, and was a credit to them. He had run miles to find him, to find his brother. He had outstanding courage, loyalty, determination, love, perseverance, faith. This reminded him of his mission. He pulled the smoke meat off the spit, and placed it in a re-sealable plastic bag, and placed it in his quiver. He wished he had a family like that, who were loved as much as they loved. He stamped out the fire and continued on his journey down the mountain.

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  30. What was your fave part in book 7? Mine might have been the prison escapes and the bit at the wallace monument. My parents actually went to stirling castle and I’ve got photos of it

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    • I’d love to go to Stirling Castle! My favorite part had to be when the tape was playing and when Jigson reads the note. I really hope we get to be with him when he gives Miss Verton her note.

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  37. I’m not sure, I haven’t split it into chapters yet, I’m going to do that when I’m done, maybe 8 or 9? Which isn’t bad for six months

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    • Yeah, that’s good. When I write I always make chapters when I start but I hear lot’s of people split afterward.

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  39. Do you have any pets? I have an adorable Netherland dwarf rabbit called Noah. (I know it’s a bit off of track, sorry!)

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    • I used to have a bird but she died. I have a fish, our family has a super cute dog, we have another dog that my brother owns, and my sister has a rabbit. We had a cat but he roamed away. We’ve had lots of animals.

      Reply

    • Our cute dog is Chihuahua and dachshund, our other dog is a million different ones, our fish (That were sacrifice fish but lived) are goldfish, and our rabbit I don’t know. It’s white.

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  41. What did you think of my scenes? Anything that didn’t make sense or could have been better? What was you favourite part so far?

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  42. Parker, Leah, Kenleaf, Sandrina, Isabelle, Lucia, Mandalynn, Jubilee and Heather. You commenting culprits Please email me at earthquakeranch @gmail.com. Thanks!

    Reply

  44. Parker, I did the scenes wher Jigson is shot, Phil, Abby and Andy go to Sweden, Phil gets kidnapped with Rolf by Miss Verton, and Jigson takes the twins to Arnau Gorrions old holiday home

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  47. Hey Parker sorry about the episode the other day. Sometimes my emotions get the best of me and I usually say EVERYTHING that’s on my mind!!! No hard feelings. Ok?

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  48. Who else wants to know Jigson and Miss Verton’s real last names?
    I also want to know what they’re names were before they’re parents changed them to Haelix and Corona

    Reply

  49. Here are my next scenes sorry it ended abruptly that’s as far as I have got 😉 “Gone? What do you mean gone?!” Mr Baker exclaimed. “I mean that he broke out of hospital. Three hours ago.” Detective Mortimer replied, his voice sounding just as worried as they felt. “How?” Mrs Baker put in, as the phone was on speaker. “Apparently he knocked out one of the nurses,” Mr Baker could hear a tinge of a smile the detective’s voice, “Hooked him up to his IV and “borrowed” his clothes, then he slipped out of the hospital. He was last spotted in the airport around the time Philip, Andrew and Abigail’s plane took off.” “Do you think he has gone to Sweden?” Mrs Baker asked. “We believe so.” The detective whistled through his teeth. “Charles, Alice, please don’t panic. If he’s there, I’m sure they’ll be fine…” “Detective,” Mr Baker asked nervously. Mrs Baker found his hand and clasped it. “What are you saying?” Mortimer sighed. “Miss Verton, as you know, broke out of prison just after the submarine escapade in Scotland, along with her fiancée, Klaus. The police had previously found a memo in Klaus’s office mentioning Sweden. This plan has been in production for many years, as we found out from Rolf that his father had had a secret project he was working on from when Rolf was twelve. He said his father was always making long distance phone calls to a place called Nikkaluokta (note: it’s a real place) in Sweden.” “Detective, are you saying that my children are in danger?” Mrs Baker squeezed Mr Bakers hand tighter. “Quite frankly, yes.” “Oh…Oh…Oh no! Charles, you have to do something! There’s no telling what that evil man and woman will do to my children!” Mrs Baker screamed. Tom rushed in from the other room. “Mother, are you all right?” He asked anxiously, his face turning pale. It had to be something serious if his mother reacted like that. “Tom,” Mr Baker said quickly, “Go get your mother a glass of water, all right?” “Yes father.” Tom dashed off towards the kitchen. Mr Baker embraced her, and she began to calm down. She gulped. “Detective, please continue.” The detective sounded hesitant. “The Swedish police have also had a phone call from somewhere deep in the Kebnekaise mountains. From Abigail.” Mrs Baker breathed a sigh of relief, then gasped, remembering both things this could mean. “She filed a…a missing person’s report for…Phil.”. “Oh, God, help us.” Mrs Baker breathed. “Help us.”
    Abby’s leather riding boots made hardly a sound on the soft green grass. She walked around to the front of the house and took a deep breath of fresh air..The luscious grass waved in the wind, a thick green carpet leading the way down to a small lake. The sun was beginning to rise behind large green mountains, creating a beautiful scene of peace and serenity. The LORD is my shepherd, I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside still waters. “Abby!” Andy interrupted her thoughts as he ran up down the shoreline towards her. He looked at her, then at the lake. “Beautiful view.” He remarked. Abby nodded. “Are you ok?” Andy sat down beside her on one of the mossy rocks by the lake. She shook her head. “I’m worried about Phil.” He put his arm around her. “I am too.” “He…I’m…I’m worried I might never see him again.” She set her jaw, but her eyes began to fill. “I feel helpless. I can’t do anything to help him. Nothing!” She stuck the rock, then grabbed her hand and began rubbing it. “Ow. Oh, that was stupid.” “Abs,” Andy said, “Phil would tell you to remember that, “The beloved of the LORD will dwell safely by him, who shelters him all the day long.” And “The LORD is my rock, and my fortress and my deliverer.” Come,” He took her hand and stood up. “It’s getting cold. Let’s go inside.” “Thank you.” She murmured, still clasping her injured hand. Andy slipped his arm around her shoulders and led her towards the cabin.
    Phil collapsed onto the carpeted floor, exhausted. He opened his eyes slightly and looked about him. Just more grey brick. Where’s Rolf? They must have moved him somewhere else. He sat up slowly. The room was bare and dark. There was a small window very high up, almost in the grey ceiling, but it was barred and only about the size of his watch. My watch! Phil’s hand flew to his wrist. He could feel the light indent in his skin where it had been. It isn’t there. His hope faded. He noticed a blanket in the corner and pulled it around his shoulders and sat back in a corner in an effort to make himself more comfortable. He guessed the time to be about 1 am. His thoughts were again drawn to his siblings. They were all alone in a country they didn’t know, not even speaking the language. They had no money, no food, nowhere to sleep. He attempted to pray. Jesus, keep them safe, please… And he fell into an exhausted sleep.
    The cabin was warm and cosy inside, dimly lit with old-fashioned gas lamps. The first thing that caught Abby’s eye was the gaping hole in the west wall. She pulled away from Andy’s arm and hurried towards it. It was pitch black and the only thing that Abby could see in the dim light of one of the lamps was a flight of steep stone steps reaching down into the darkness. She reached into the tunnel, and her fingers curled around something smooth. Surprised, she pulled at it and it came off in her hand. It was an old-fashioned bronze skeleton key, with a curling leaf pattern at the end. Attached to it was a frayed piece of old twine. Andy came alongside her. “What is that?” He whispered. “I found it in that tunnel. I think it had been hanging by this piece of string.” She disentangled the twine from the end and played with it in her fingers. “Should we show Mr Jigson?” Asked Andy. “No.” Andy blinked. “What do you mean no?” She looked into his eyes. “I’m not sure he can be trusted. How do we know that he is really Mr Jigson? Didn’t you notice how he avoided my question about the hospital at the airport? I want to test him further to see who he really is.” Andy nodded understandingly as she slid the key into her front pocket. They turned to where Jigson was attempting to start a fire in the grate. “That tunnel,” He said without looking up, “Is an emergency escape route. If anyone finds out that you’re here, you must escape down there. It’ll bring you up in the mountains just east of here.” Once he had sparked a blaze, he stood and walked over to the tunnel, and began feeling his hands over the stonework at the entrance. One particular little crevice depressed at his touch, and he withdrew his hand quickly as the bookcase slid quietly into place. “To move the bookcase, you twist this.” He pointed to a small painted wooden horse. It was light blue in colour and had an ivory saddle and bridle delicately depicted on it.

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