As she approaches the stones, the sun sets. The air grows thick. The buzzing returns, louder now, a deep thrumming that seems to come from the earth itself. Claire touches the central stone again. A piercing shriek fills her ears. The world spins. She feels herself pulled, twisted, torn through light and shadow. She screams.

When Claire, in desperation, reveals she was a nurse, Dougal’s eyes narrow with interest. They are currently hiding a wounded clansman. If Claire can save him, she may prove useful. If not, she may be handed over to the Redcoats.

But one of the younger men steps forward. He is tall, with sandy-brown hair, a lean, handsome face, and curious blue eyes. His name is Jamie Fraser. He’s only in his early twenties, but there’s a quiet strength to him. He translates Dougal’s questions and tries to soften the group’s hostility. He notices Claire’s hands—not a lady’s hands, but those of someone who has worked, perhaps healed.

That evening, Frank returns with exciting news: he’s found a direct ancestor, another Jonathan Randall—but he’s a “Black Jack” Randall, a captain of dragoons known for his cruelty. Frank is disturbed, as the records suggest a different man than the one on the grave. Claire tries to comfort him, but their conversation is interrupted by an argument about Claire’s past as a nurse and Frank’s desire for a child. The war has left emotional scars between them. Frustrated, Claire says she needs air and walks back toward Craigh na Dun.

Later that night, Claire explores the garden of their rented cottage. In the darkness, she sees a figure watching her from the shadows—a tall man in a Highland kilt, his face obscured. She calls out, but he vanishes. Shaken, she tells Frank, who dismisses it as a local poacher. But Claire can’t shake the feeling that the ghost felt ancient, hungry, and mournful.