She Walked into the Storm

She lived in a hut of stone and peat, White hair shining like a winter flame. Freckled skin and a healer’s touch, Every soul who came left changed. And beside her stood a quiet man, Tall as the ridge, unshaken and sure. His voice could scatter wolves at night, But his love for her was pure. She walked into the storm, Answering the call of the dying. She walked into the storm, No fear, no hesitation, no crying. And though the river claimed her life, Her spirit rose in the girl she taught. For a healer’s flame is never lost, Only passed from heart to heart. The apprentice was young, dark‑haired and bright, Skin kissed warm by the summer sun. She followed the bean‑lèigh everywhere, Learning how the healing’s done. She watched the tall man guard their door, Saw the tenderness behind his might. Saw the way their love held steady Through every Highland night. She walked into the storm, Answering the call of the dying. She walked into the storm, No fear, no hesitation, no crying. And though the river claimed her life, Her spirit rose in the girl she taught. For a healer’s flame is never lost, Only passed from heart to heart. Years turned the girl to a woman grown, Gray streaks shining in her hair. The tall man passed his watch to her husband, Then slipped away in prayer. They laid him on the hillside rise, Where the wind sings soft and low. And every night they told the tales So the lineage would grow. She walked into the storm, But her legacy stayed burning. She walked into the storm, And the wheel of healing kept turning. For the girl with the dark flowing hair Became the answer to every call. A healer’s flame is never lost, It rises in us all.