The Mourning Kelpie

There once lived at Waterstein on Skye, not far from Neist Point, an old widow and her daughter. It was a quiet existence for the pair with their wee cottage isolated miles away from neighbours, along narrow, winding country tracks.

This idyllic life was about to get much bleaker and lonelier however, as the daughter suddenly fell ill. She fought the sickness for some time, but there was nothing to be done and eventually the girl passed away, leaving her poor mother all alone.

The old woman sat through the night, mourning her daughter's body lying there awaiting burial next to her, while the embers of her peat fire gave off the weakest of light. Then out of nowhere, the latch on the door opened and in walked a tall, handsome stranger.

He didn't say a word to her, just strode the short distance across the floor and sat down right next to the grieving mother. The man stared at the corpse with tears in his eyes, never acknowledging the old woman once. There was something comforting about his presence, so she remained where she was and let him be.

Every so often, as the fire burned down, he would whisper "Make some light little peat" and the flames would grow once more. Whoever the stranger was, he clearly had some magic in him.

In the morning, he left without warning and the old woman never saw him again. She shared the strange occurrence with those who attended the funeral and they seemed to be convinced that this was a shapeshifting Kelpie. They usually hunted humans rather than mourned them, so there was clearly more to the story.

Maybe he had some part to play in the girl's demise and felt a strong sense of guilt. Or much more likely, maybe he had fallen in love with the girl and was just as heartbroken as her mother.