“Warren! It sounds wonderful! I can’t wait for this festival!”
“We Highlanders just need an excuse to have fun! Well, Megan, here we are.”
“Thank you. Your story was absolutely fascinating. If you and Glenn have got time this evening, I would love to hear more legends related to the traditions of Northern Scotland.”
“Of course! Tonight, after dinner, we'll happily share with you all we know about our north over a glass of whisky by the fireplace.”
“Great, I’m already looking forward to it,” Megan spoke joyously, pleased with Warren's openness and the fact that he harbored no resentment toward her for the previous day's events.
When Megan got out of the car, she found herself in front of a long two-story building made of large stone blocks. This style, she noted, was a common feature of most historical buildings in Scotland. The distillery was situated on a hill. From there, magnificent landscapes opened up. Megan thought it would be impossible to get used to such beauty. Surely, these views could never become dull.
“How long has this distillery been here?” she asked her cousin.
“From the 15th century. It was built by our ancestor William McKenzie, in 1486. Naturally, a lot has changed and improved inside since then. But externally, it remains as it was centuries ago.”
At the entrance to the building, a large oak barrel lay on its side, with "Mal Scotch Production" painted on it in white; the clan coat of arms was underneath.
Gregor, who had come with them but had remained silent the whole way, swung the door open, gesturing for them to enter. The girl immediately noticed a distinctive smell – malt, as it seemed to her.
Megan didn't consider herself an expert in this field. She had never been fond of strong alcoholic beverages, preferring ale or cider instead. She had only drunk whisky once in her life, a few years back, and now barely remembered how it smelled. Inside, there was a reception desk and a small sofa. A pleasant-looking blonde woman – around fifty, dressed in a smart business suit, immediately approached the visitors.
“Good afternoon, Miss McKenzie. My name is Kirsty, I’m the head technologist at the distillery. Warren, Gregor, it’s good to see you. If you’re ready, we can proceed further. I will take you to the production technology and show you the distillery.”