Brighid’s laughter still danced in her eyes. “Thank you, Wynne.” She nodded her chin in the direction of the busy winged children. “I was just wondering how they managed to win their way into your sacred gardens.”
“The bairns seem to know a thing or two about plants and herbs and such, and I thought to keep their wee hands busy. Besides, it has been a long, dry spring, and my herbs need the extra pampering.” Her imperious gaze swept over the gardens and the children. “But donna fash yourself. I’m keeping my eye on them.”
Little heads turned up with toothy smiles. Brighid was surprised to see Wynne’s face soften in response.
“You like children,” she said, more than a little shocked.
Wynne’s emerald gaze came back to the Huntress and her full lips tilted up. “I canna deny it. I like the life bonny young ones bring to a castle.”
“Huh,” Brighid said, thinking that Wynne wouldn’t like it so much if she’d been alone with seventy of them.
“Donna use that tone with me, lassie, not when I see what is following ye around.” She pointed at Liam.
Brighid cleared her throat. “Wynne, have you met my apprentice?”
“No, but I’ve word of him.” She gave the boy an appraising look. “Another good Huntress ’tis always welcome in a kitchen.”
“He’ll be a good Huntress,” Brighid said, causing Liam’s chest to swell. “Someday,” she added before the boy exploded.
“Well then, young Liam,” Wynne said, moving out of the doorframe to join them. “What is it ye have brought me?”
“Boar!” Liam said proudly.
“Did ya now?” Wynne clapped her hands together. “Wild boar! Goddess ’tis good to have ye home, Brighid! Bring it in-bring it in.” Her gleeful tone changed quickly to that of a warrior in command. “But mind where yer walkin’! Have a care with the young mint and basil shoots. This horrid dry weather has practically shriveled my garden to death.” When the Huntress and boy moved too slowly, she tapped her foot impatiently. “I dinna mean for ye to turn to molasses! Get the beastie in here. ’Tis none too soon for the dinner meal.”
“Are we to move carefully or quickly?” Brighid said.
“Both, of course!”
Smiling at Wynne’s familiar bossiness, Brighid pulled the carcass into the kitchen, soaking in the warmth of the enthusiastic greetings called by the army of scullery maids. The rich smells and the bustling activity chased from her mind the last vestiges of the unease brought on by the vision of the fallen raven. By the Goddess, she loved this part of her life! It Felt right to provide for the Clan-and to be a part of a family unit. Liam was an unexpected element, but the boy had a gift. He could actually see animal spirits. So she’d just weave him into the fabric of her life.
And Cuchulainn? He was equally as unexpected. Perhaps there was a way to stitch him into her life as well.
No. She was being foolish. Cuchulainn was already a part of her life. He was her Chieftain’s brother and her friend. That was the role fate had relegated to him. Simple. Logical. Predictable. Just the way she liked it.
But wasn’t there even the smallest possibility that he could be more?
“Brighid? Can we go, too?” Liam’s expectant question broke through her tangled thoughts.
“Go?”
“Aye, aye.” Wynne made rapid shooing motions with her hands at them. “Be gone. We donna have time to step ’round ye.”
Brighid snorted at the cook, but before disappearing out the rear door she snagged something that still lay with the great carcass.
“Come, Liam.” She headed to the door. “Getting in the way of a busy cook can be more dangerous than tracking wild beasts.” Out in the garden she tossed the lump she had been holding to her apprentice, who caught it neatly. “Speaking of tracking, do you know what that is?”
Liam sniffed it before he answered. “A hoof.”
“Of?”’
“The boar, of course,” he said.
“You know that now. You can smell it, and you know that I pulled it from the carcass. But would you know it as a boar’s hoofprint if you saw it in the forest?”
Liam stared at the grisly relic of Brighid’s hunt. “I don’t know.”
“Well, let’s go find out,” she said. Then paused as they left the kitchen gardens. “How is your wing?”
“It feels good,” he assured her. “I’m not tired at all.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “What would Nara say if I asked her the same question?”
“The same thing, I promise.” At her doubting look he added. “Ask her for yourself. She’s out with the rest of them.”
“Out? Where?”
“Where Wynne said, remember? That way-” he pointed to the south “-outside the castle. Everyone’s there setting up camp and trying to decide where to build the new buildings. I’d be there, too, but I thought I should wait for you.”
“You did well,” she said absently. Already her senses were reaching, tendril-like, to the grassy plateau southeast of the castle. Easily, clearly, she Felt the brilliant golden light that was Cuchulainn’s spirit. Get it over with. You can’t live here and avoid seeing the man. “Yes, let’s join the others. And I’ll give you your first lesson in tracking.” She glanced down at the boy. He did look better, and he seemed to be moving more easily. But his wing was still bandaged securely to his back, and his color was paler than she would have liked. The centaur sighed and reached down to him. “Come on. Climb up.”
His smile tugged at her heart. She lifted him to her back and felt one of his warm little hands rest on her shoulder. She knew without looking that the other hand still clutched the bloody hoof stump. His weight was slight and easy to bear and she found that she liked the feel of his hand on her shoulder and how he chattered about boars and hooves with the same excitement she had felt when she had been a young apprentice. She didn’t even mind the surprised smiles and stares the sentries gave her as she trotted back out the front gates.
“Can we go fast?” Liam asked, leaning his chin on her shoulder and talking directly into her ear.
She probably should have said no, that his wound was still too raw to be jostled, but she Felt the lure that was coming from the golden light. She would certainly surprise everyone if she galloped up with a laughing Liam astride her back. No one would expect such behavior from her.
Perhaps it was time that she did a little of the unexpected.
“Hold tight,” she said over her shoulder and launched herself forward. She did, of course, keep one hand on the boy’s leg to steady him, but she was pleased to feel the child settle into a deep, firm seat and hold tight to her. He didn’t bobble around and flail his arms annoyingly. Actually the boy stuck to her like a particularly persistent tick, an image that made her smile. When she pounded around the bend in the land and the southern plateau opened up before her, she ignored the workers, and widened her stride, cutting in and around the clumps of humans, centaurs, and New Fomorians, and was rewarded with Liam’s whoop of excitement.
She didn’t slow until she caught sight of Elphame’s distinctive figure. The Chieftain was part of a small group standing near the cliff which fell dramatically down to the shore far below. Their heads were bowed over a large wooden table situated under an awning meant to serve as protection from the crisp sea wind. Brighid recognized Lochlan’s tall, winged shape, as well as the old centaur Stonemaster, Danann. Beside him stood a wide-shouldered, amber-haired warrior who made her heart squeeze in her chest.
Once she saw Cuchulainn she didn’t have to tell herself sternly to go over there and get this first meeting over with. The truth was, she was drawn to him, as if his golden light was a beacon guiding her home. The Huntress galloped up to the small group in a rush of pounding hooves and boyish giggles. She slid to a stop beside Elphame, who laughed in surprise.