Chapter 19: The Waterhorse

We camped the next night on the banks above Loch Ness.

This means they can't be too far from Craigh na Dun, right?

The larches and alders were a deeper green, because it was now midsummer, not late spring.

This is a good point. The seasonal difference in the TV show is a continuity issue. The adaptation changes the date of Claire's disappearance to Samhain — this is a reasonable choice that clears up the issues I noted in the first chapter, namely that WWII was not over at Beltane in 1945. But they don't really adjust the rest of the seasons to fit that. The MacKenzie party is clearly riding around in summer — all the leaves are green and they aren't freezing to death. TVJamie does mention Christmas at one point, but it is a strange non-sequitur.

After getting settled in camp, Claire heads down to the loch and wanders around a bit, enjoying the solitude.

A great flat head broke the surface not ten feet away. I could see the water purling away from keeled scales that ran in a crest down the sinuous neck. The water was agitated for some considerable distance, and I caught a glimpse here and there of dark and massive movement beneath the surface of the loch, though the head itself stayed relatively still.

Oh, shit! She actually saw the monster!

Oddly enough, I was not really afraid. I felt some faint kinship with it, a creature further from its own time than I, the flat eyes old as its ancient Eocene seas, eyes grown dim in the murky depths of its shrunken refuge.

Well, there's a thought. Does she just mean that the Loch Ness monster is an ancient species, like the coelacanth? Or is she suggesting that there might be a time passage at the bottom of the loch? That would explain some things, like why the monster seems to be in the water at some times and absent at others. But it would raise some new questions about time travel. Do different passages catapult travelers along unique chronological paths? Or is each traveler's timeline unique to the traveler? That seems to be the case with Geillis — she traveled farther than Claire. Or maybe she came through at a different site with a similar, but not identical, travel interval?

I stood there for a moment, looking out across the fathomless loch. "Goodbye," I said at last to the empty water. I shook myself and turned back to the bank.

A man was standing at the top of the slope.

Ruh roh. Claire does not need to be caught in compromising proximity to supernatural creatures.

"Ha-have mercy, lady," he stammered. To my extreme embarrassment, he then flung himself flat on his face and clutched at the hem of my dress.

Not good at all.

Also:

They were courageous fighters and dauntless warriors, but they were also as superstitious as any primitive tribesmen from Africa or the Middle East.

This postcard from Romantic Racism brought to you by British Imperialism. Shows Claire learned something while looting all those World Heritage Sites as a tot.

Scene! The shortest chapter so far.

Body Count:

Jamie: 3 + assorted redcoats + two years as mercenary in France