His dad's kilt, his dad's whiskey... Cam was right to say June wouldn't recognize the brand or the significance of the 'single malt', any of it. But between these two items, and the family photo, she was starting to piece together a story in her head.
Then the man started singing. Without accompaniment, it took the girl a few stanzas before she recognized the song, and with everything else in mind, it sounded like a lament.
While the man sang, she stopped rummaging, and just listened, wondering, trying to make sense of it all. When the tune faded away, the tiger was quiet, hearing the fire crackling, watching the man's breath puff in the air.
“Cam...” she wondered softly. “Are you doing this... Like, is your dad... Was he the senechal before you?”
Then the man started singing. Without accompaniment, it took the girl a few stanzas before she recognized the song, and with everything else in mind, it sounded like a lament.
While the man sang, she stopped rummaging, and just listened, wondering, trying to make sense of it all. When the tune faded away, the tiger was quiet, hearing the fire crackling, watching the man's breath puff in the air.
“Cam...” she wondered softly. “Are you doing this... Like, is your dad... Was he the senechal before you?”