Brown Bread and Burnt Toast
Fiona and Lin made breakfast the following morning with relish. They put together a full-on Irish, and then added pancakes, berries, cut cheeses and unfortunately at the last, toast. It was this that filled the kitchen with just enough smoke to make it clear that their culinary efforts had not all been successful. On the birghtside, however, it did serve to get both boys out of bed without any prodding. They slugged into the kitchen looking as if they had not slept nearly long enough and took seats at the table. Fiona began to lay out the feast as Lin tried to salvage what she could of the toast, scraping off the worst of the burnt patches. Finally, exasperated, she gave up. "If you want jam on bread of any sort, you will need to use the brown bread, the toast is shot."
Sean began to fill his plate, eggs, bangers, and brown bread. Fiona pressed some pancakes with berries on him, but he said he would have to empty what he had first. Ian on the other hand, was smelling each dish and had yet to put a single item on his plate. Finally, he put a couple of slice of brown bread and several pieces of bacon on the plate. He accepted a large glasss of milk, which disappeared almost as soon as it was in his hand. He had it refilled and was sitting down as Lin and Fiona had made their choices and joined them for the morning meal.
Lin glanced at her mother, the look in her eyes clearly stating, "Something strange is afoot?"
Fiona nodded. "Well, its a good think that things happened as they did, since the tickets to go home are set for tomorrow. I'm sorry you boy's did not get to see as much as you wanted to. But, perhaps your adventure was interesting?" She let this last comment hang in the air, an opening gambit to try to get them to speak about where they had been and what they had down.
Silence fell like a heavy curtain around them. Neither of the boys responded.
"I know Ian did not get a chance to speak to Emma, or even to shop for her. Maybe he can pick something up on the drive to the airport tomorrow or at the shops there. Sean could probably also get any souvenirs he might like that way too. I haven't put the call in to change my ticket, but I am really thinking it would be a good idea for us to be together for awhile. What do you think?"
Ian crunched into a bit of bacon and looked at his mother, not saying a thing. His gaze was so distant that whe wasn't even sure if he had heard her at all. Sean seemed to very interested in the banger on his plate. Again, there was not even a nod from either boy.
"Is there something either of you would like to tell us? Are your okay? Did something difficult happen to you? We won't judge, we just want to know uf we can help." added Lin.
She was once again greeted by silence from the boys.
"All right, you will talk when you have a mind to." She picked up her breakfast items and moved to the sink where she could begin the wahing up. "Let's spend the morning getting packed. I can make my arrangements to fly with you and we can consider where we want to go before we leave tomorrow.
The boys moved back to their room. She could hear them going about the rudimentary requirements for packing, but they were still so very quiet, Not a single word was spoken between them. She and Fiona worked to straighten the rest of the house. They located all the items they had brough in. Worked together to pack up what they would take with and put together a package to take into down for the church to hand out of the food stuffs they had not opened but which could be of great value to those living on the Church's largesse.
If Fiona noticed that Lin was withdrawn she did not comment, though she did suggest several times that there were errands that could be run in town which would have given Lin reason to and visit Roary alone. To all of these Lin replied that the errands could wait until supper, as they planned to in to the Pub to eat. There was certainly no need to waste the time they had together setting off on a separate trip to the village.
Truth be told if, Fiona would have loved to given a good shake to both her daughter and her grandsons. They needed to snap out of whatever they had let take hold of them and grasp tightly to the fact that they were back together. They had come through so much, to let this silence settle seemed almost blasphemous. In fact, she determined, if they did not get their heads out of the collective hind-ends by supper she might just be forced to take drastic action.
Its Cold Out Here....but Beautiful....
Saturday, December 31, 2011
Participles and Portents (78)
Pens and Blankets
Every muscle in Thom's body ached, but none more than his head. He had been struggling with what he would say to Mairy through the entire trek home. The weather had been mild, unseasonably warm and at any other time he might have lingered in the wood a bit just to enjoy the time and watch the hounds at chase. But not this time. He had to go home and put the meat up to smoke. He had to go home and complete the tasks necessary to make sure that everything was prepared and set to rights for the upcoming winter. He had to go home and face the look in his wife's eyes when the sparkle of joy at seeing him safe and whole faded as she realized he had not come back with all that he had set out with. How had those hounds gotten so tangled up in their lives so quickly? It was as if they had met travelers on the road and taken them in, making them part of their family, and now their sudden absence left a hole where there presence had been. He could not account for it. He only knew that their absence would be felt, most assuredly that of Conn's. He could picture the blond following Mairy about the kitchen, his bulk somehow managing to find a fit in the small space. Her hand idly moving to scatch him around the ears as she sat near the fire. Her piercing gaze as he told her that the hound would be going with him, despite her attachment to him. And now he was coming home without him.
He gave some brief thought to Cait and the reaction the she-hound might have on not seeing Coll. The two had surely acted oddly around each other, almost as if they had truly mated and not just rutted. Of course, now that he had seen with his own eyes the two hounds breaking apart into light and disappearing, well, now he understood a bit better why they were so odd. The two were definitely touched by the Fey. Aye, that much was clear. Would Cait's pups bear a Fey taint as well? Was this a good or bad thing? He thought perhaps he might have to take the pups and leave them to their own devices as soon as they were able. He couldna take their lives, but it did not seem prudent to keep to Fey creatures living with his own. Yet Conn and Coll had not proven a burden. His mind turned and twisted as he strode on, coming to no conclusions and causing havoc with the pain that was gaining steadily there.
They stopped twice to make camp for the evening, getting up near dawn to press on. Thom knew he was setting a hard pace but the hounds could take it, and he felt driven to set down his burden at his wife's feet. It was close on twilight when they made it to the edge of their land. The hounds charged ahead baying as they made their way toward home. It was clear their spirits were not as dampened as his own. He rounded his way down the path and around to the pen, opening it and filling the water trough, then putting fodder out for the pack. Mairy would, no doubt, come out later and give them each a biscuit and a scratch for their hard work. He made sure the meat was tied down tight and covered securely before he made his way to the cottage door. It hit him then that neither Mairy nor Cait had come to greet them on arrival, and his worry over explanations evaporated as his worry over their state peaked. He practically charged through the door, yelling Mairy's name as he did so.
He pulled himself to an abrupt halt when he saw them. Mairy lay on the floor curled around the hound's back. Cait lay, slightly curled, but with her legs distended, pointing toward the hearth, where the fire had burned out. They were clearly sleeping. Two forms began to wriggle between Cait's legs. He thought they must be the pups, but they were uncannily large. He moved a bit closer as the two pups reared their heads back just enought to eyeball him. He stopped to stare. Cait had gone and had herself wee visions of the hounds he'd just seen vanish into colored bits of light. He scratched his chin where the beard had set in a full growth during the hunt. He would definitely need to discuss the issue of Fey creatures with Maire. But he ken he would likely lose the battle with a wee-Conn settled by the fire.
He moved over softtly and knelt to run a hand through his wife's hair. 'Twas not too much to ask, he thought. Mairy could keep the pups, and he in turn would be keeping his Mairy.
Every muscle in Thom's body ached, but none more than his head. He had been struggling with what he would say to Mairy through the entire trek home. The weather had been mild, unseasonably warm and at any other time he might have lingered in the wood a bit just to enjoy the time and watch the hounds at chase. But not this time. He had to go home and put the meat up to smoke. He had to go home and complete the tasks necessary to make sure that everything was prepared and set to rights for the upcoming winter. He had to go home and face the look in his wife's eyes when the sparkle of joy at seeing him safe and whole faded as she realized he had not come back with all that he had set out with. How had those hounds gotten so tangled up in their lives so quickly? It was as if they had met travelers on the road and taken them in, making them part of their family, and now their sudden absence left a hole where there presence had been. He could not account for it. He only knew that their absence would be felt, most assuredly that of Conn's. He could picture the blond following Mairy about the kitchen, his bulk somehow managing to find a fit in the small space. Her hand idly moving to scatch him around the ears as she sat near the fire. Her piercing gaze as he told her that the hound would be going with him, despite her attachment to him. And now he was coming home without him.
He gave some brief thought to Cait and the reaction the she-hound might have on not seeing Coll. The two had surely acted oddly around each other, almost as if they had truly mated and not just rutted. Of course, now that he had seen with his own eyes the two hounds breaking apart into light and disappearing, well, now he understood a bit better why they were so odd. The two were definitely touched by the Fey. Aye, that much was clear. Would Cait's pups bear a Fey taint as well? Was this a good or bad thing? He thought perhaps he might have to take the pups and leave them to their own devices as soon as they were able. He couldna take their lives, but it did not seem prudent to keep to Fey creatures living with his own. Yet Conn and Coll had not proven a burden. His mind turned and twisted as he strode on, coming to no conclusions and causing havoc with the pain that was gaining steadily there.
They stopped twice to make camp for the evening, getting up near dawn to press on. Thom knew he was setting a hard pace but the hounds could take it, and he felt driven to set down his burden at his wife's feet. It was close on twilight when they made it to the edge of their land. The hounds charged ahead baying as they made their way toward home. It was clear their spirits were not as dampened as his own. He rounded his way down the path and around to the pen, opening it and filling the water trough, then putting fodder out for the pack. Mairy would, no doubt, come out later and give them each a biscuit and a scratch for their hard work. He made sure the meat was tied down tight and covered securely before he made his way to the cottage door. It hit him then that neither Mairy nor Cait had come to greet them on arrival, and his worry over explanations evaporated as his worry over their state peaked. He practically charged through the door, yelling Mairy's name as he did so.
He pulled himself to an abrupt halt when he saw them. Mairy lay on the floor curled around the hound's back. Cait lay, slightly curled, but with her legs distended, pointing toward the hearth, where the fire had burned out. They were clearly sleeping. Two forms began to wriggle between Cait's legs. He thought they must be the pups, but they were uncannily large. He moved a bit closer as the two pups reared their heads back just enought to eyeball him. He stopped to stare. Cait had gone and had herself wee visions of the hounds he'd just seen vanish into colored bits of light. He scratched his chin where the beard had set in a full growth during the hunt. He would definitely need to discuss the issue of Fey creatures with Maire. But he ken he would likely lose the battle with a wee-Conn settled by the fire.
He moved over softtly and knelt to run a hand through his wife's hair. 'Twas not too much to ask, he thought. Mairy could keep the pups, and he in turn would be keeping his Mairy.
Thursday, December 29, 2011
Participles and Portents (77)
Of Sealing Wax and Cracked Cups
She could not begin to imagine sleeping. She was torn between wanting to stand in the doorway and count the rise and fall of her children's chests, memorizing the details of their sleep, and slipping out the door to the strand to see if he was there. She felt caged in her room. After everything that had happened, it seemed empty. It seemed too calm. Her fingers rose to her lips, she could almost still taste the combination of seawater and blood against her cheeks and tongue. Her fingers fluttered to her throat remembering the thickness, the lack of air, the desparate need to reach beyond that and find her boys.
She saw them then, the three birds, wrapped together, wing over wing, like a sculpture, like the brooch Aiofe had made. They had looked so protective of each other. Then the connective stare that had singled out her bird. She would have recognized that haughty piercing black eye anywhere, she thought. The image slipped from the three birds to the granular dissolution of the three beautiful children as the King had risen from the sea, his age rolling from him in waves as he moved foward, reaching toward them. A shimmer of amber, indigo, crimson and emerald, ephemeral, yet there, glinted in the half-light. Aiofe hovered, she could see the tears in the young woman's eyes, the tremble on her lips as the King turned but briefly to take her hand before surging forward to his children. Then the srange dissipation of them all, like sea-spray confetti in the wind. They simply broke apart into scattered multi-colored droplets and were gone, leaving the waves lapping at the cavern's lip and Lin shivering there in the water.
She flashed to the strand then, the anxious minutes they waited until the grey hound was flung out of the sea, its graceful shape belied by the howling that turned to racking sobs as Sean lay naked upon the shore. She grew warm at the memory of Roary moving quickly to help him up and drape his coat over him. They had all moved together, supporting Sean and facing the sea. The waiting. In her memory the wait seemed like hours though she knew it was only minutes. Finally the sea had cast Ian out. She remembered with a shudder how violent it had seemed and the shock of his hand torn open as it was. She cast back to the image of Sean handing over the coat as he bent to cover his brother and whisper to him. Ian with nothing to say as yet, just that terrible look of hunger in his eyes. Then Fiona, bubbling over, handing a quilt to Sean and pulling them together, rubbing them down, clucking over them. Lin joining, still overcome with relief, almost falling into them. Solace, she thought, and home. Dancing slowly in a family embrace with Fiona and the boys, until a feeling of absence made itself known, and Sean and Fiona had pulled Roary in to join them. She smiled remembering the look they had exchanged, one of joy that things had ended well, and one perhaps of promise?
She slipped on her coat and picked up her shoes. Carefully opening her bedroom door, she made her way to the boys' room and peeked in. Leaning back onto the doorframe, she sighed, enjoying the sight of them whole and together under this roof wither herself and her mother. She wondered if Ian would speak tomorrow and what he wold have to say. Was his experience something too horrible to speak about? And what of Sean, who had fallen asleep with tears still wet on his cheeks? She paused to take a long, sweet breath. She would worry about their tomorrows tomorrow. Tonight she was going to see if Roary was indeed waiting on the strand.
She felt light as she slipped out the door. A feeling of being totally centered seemed to add lift to her whole body. It was if she had lost both years and pounds in just the last few hours. She was tempted to skip she felt so giddy, but held herself back given the rough terrain. Still, when she rounded onto the strand and saw the figure in the moonlight, she could not hold herself back. Her simple gait became a loping run. For a brief moment she thought, "I do really hope this is him." That was just before she launched herself into the shadow's arms. When its head bowed to claim her lips and the heart uncurled from her belly to wind down to her toes and up to wrap around her spine, she knew exactly who had caught her in the moonlight.
Clinging to each other with the music of the waves making a strident offset to the racing of the blood in their veins, they could have been ghostlike vestiges of the past. Lovers lost upon the strand of time itself, had it not been for the modern cut of their clothing.
Lin leaned back in his arms and gazed into his eyes. "Vacation is just about up for the boys. Their plane leaves in just two days."
"Aye, well at least it's humans that will be flyin'," he grinned.
Her serious countenance did not waver. "Yes, it's just that with all that has happened, I think I will have to go back with them. I was planning to stay another month, but I am not sure I can do that now. Who knows what they have really been through?"
Roary peeled away from her. He had nor really thought about what would happen when the quest was over. He knew the boys would go home. He even thought Fiona would go at some point. But somehow he had never pictured Lin anywhere but here. Running a hand through his mane of curls, he looked down at the sand and the rock. "Aye, no one knows. But perhaps, ye'll find out more on the morrow and can make this decision then?" He asked with a hopeful lilt at the end.
"I suppose. Perhaps I am just over-mothering and assuming the worst. Perhaps they just padded about, and the worst they went through was eating a raw rabbit or two."
"Well, 'tis possible." He moved closer, close enough to put his hands in her hair. He loved the silk of it on his fingers. Then he kissed her again, kissed her long and deep, trying to put into the kiss all that he was not able to say, all that he hoped she already knew.
She rose into the kisss, pressing herself closer. She moved her hands inside his overcoat, pressing her hands against chest, rubbing the rough wool of his jacket. Feeling the heat of emotion pressing through her, she balled her hands in the fabric and heard a soft crinkle. She moved her hands under the jacket, seeking more touch, more heat. The kiss became a moment of its own. It became almost a being of its own. It was as if they created a blend of themselves in the flow of that caress. His hand stroked through the silk of her hair, followed the outline of her face, settled into the curve of her neck and pulled her closer, though there seemed no distance to spare. Around them the sea continued its ceaseless battle with the rocks as the moon bathed everything in its blue wash, a silent presence, watching all, absolving all, encouraging all.
Lin let her mind release itself completely into the embrace. She let her senses take over her will and reveled in the absolute freedom. Beneath her palm she could feel the roughness of his chest, the hair curling under the cotton of his shirt. The heat leaking through to saturate her senses. It was indescribably seductive. She circled her hand, intent on the feel of the texture and heat, pulling back sharply as the edge of her hand was sliced. "What in the world?" She spun her hand inside his jacket and pulled at the offending piece of paper. Just as he reached to stop her, it came free and edged into the bite of the moon's omnipresent glare.
The shock of what she was seeing made her rigid, speechless. Her body hard-braked from passionate heat to blank, empty cold. He stood silent, one hand caught at the nape of her neck, the other fallen at his side.
"No, please tell me no," Lin rasped as a tear began its slow trail from eye to chin.
Still he said nothing, He could think of nothing. His guilt, now exposed, was etched on his face. When she finally looked at him, when the silence had waited too long, she knew there would be no salving answer.
"It was you. I never lost it. It was you. And when you were done with it, you left it in the spare room. Why? Why would you steal my thoughts? Why would you sneak in and take my past from me without my choosing?" Her voice rose steadily as she cast her accusations, lobbed her questions at him, until finally waving her poem in his face, she locked onto his eyes.
Still he was silent. He had no explanation that made sense. What could he give this woman that would make stealing her privacy all right?
"Why?" she practically screamed as she pummeled him in the chest with her fist.
He caught her hand with both of his.
'I ha' no reason that makes what I did right. I searched the cottage for the brooch. 'Twas me burden then and I failed. I found yer little book, I thought it might help me wi' the riddle. After that, after I began the readin' o' it, I should ha' stopped. But I dinna'. An the poem? I loved it. I still do, though not as much as I do its author."
She stared at him. how could he talk about loving her in the same breath as betraying her?
"I don't know how you were raised. But love and betrayal of trust don't live side by side in my world. I guess I helped you enjoy a little adventure. I do hope I was entertaining enough for you, a big strapping thief like yourself. As for the poem, sorry, but an author's work is their own and unless it is published, it is only read by those they trust." She pushed away from him , crumpling the slip of paper and pressing it into her pocket. The tears were freely cascading down her face now. "I really didn't think I could hurt more than I did before I came here. At least not more at the hands of a man. Congratulations, Bookseller, you've proven that theory wrong." Then she turned and began to run back along the path. This time there was no lightness to her step. Her gait looked more like the disjointed efforts of a broken puppet forced to finish its performance by a mad puppeteer.
"Lin, please don't, no like this," she heard him calling. She could swear she heard a crack in his voice. He was a damn good actor, that one, should have gone out for the Irish national stage, she thought as she let anger take over the emptiness that threatened to consume her.
Alone with the moonlight and the sea, Roary let the guilt wash over him. He had been carrying it for far too long. Perhaps he should have told her ealier, when Aiofe had first appeared. But that would not explain why he had read on or why he had kept the poem. No, that could not be explained. He looked down at his hands. They were empty now, as empty as the arms that had so recently been full. He felt drained of purpose and drained of honor. He could go after her, but to what end? He had betrayed her trust. Some things can never be undone, not even with a twist of magic. He pulled his collar up and headed for home, back to his empty flat and the yawning stacks of books. His shop seemed liked very small solace after all that had just taken place. The idea of his days spent idly running it and chatting up the odd tourist and his neighbors seemed an eternity of solitude. He heaved a sigh. Perhaps it would do him some good. Given time, solace may turn to peace of mind at some point even if it doesna fill the heart.
She could not begin to imagine sleeping. She was torn between wanting to stand in the doorway and count the rise and fall of her children's chests, memorizing the details of their sleep, and slipping out the door to the strand to see if he was there. She felt caged in her room. After everything that had happened, it seemed empty. It seemed too calm. Her fingers rose to her lips, she could almost still taste the combination of seawater and blood against her cheeks and tongue. Her fingers fluttered to her throat remembering the thickness, the lack of air, the desparate need to reach beyond that and find her boys.
She saw them then, the three birds, wrapped together, wing over wing, like a sculpture, like the brooch Aiofe had made. They had looked so protective of each other. Then the connective stare that had singled out her bird. She would have recognized that haughty piercing black eye anywhere, she thought. The image slipped from the three birds to the granular dissolution of the three beautiful children as the King had risen from the sea, his age rolling from him in waves as he moved foward, reaching toward them. A shimmer of amber, indigo, crimson and emerald, ephemeral, yet there, glinted in the half-light. Aiofe hovered, she could see the tears in the young woman's eyes, the tremble on her lips as the King turned but briefly to take her hand before surging forward to his children. Then the srange dissipation of them all, like sea-spray confetti in the wind. They simply broke apart into scattered multi-colored droplets and were gone, leaving the waves lapping at the cavern's lip and Lin shivering there in the water.
She flashed to the strand then, the anxious minutes they waited until the grey hound was flung out of the sea, its graceful shape belied by the howling that turned to racking sobs as Sean lay naked upon the shore. She grew warm at the memory of Roary moving quickly to help him up and drape his coat over him. They had all moved together, supporting Sean and facing the sea. The waiting. In her memory the wait seemed like hours though she knew it was only minutes. Finally the sea had cast Ian out. She remembered with a shudder how violent it had seemed and the shock of his hand torn open as it was. She cast back to the image of Sean handing over the coat as he bent to cover his brother and whisper to him. Ian with nothing to say as yet, just that terrible look of hunger in his eyes. Then Fiona, bubbling over, handing a quilt to Sean and pulling them together, rubbing them down, clucking over them. Lin joining, still overcome with relief, almost falling into them. Solace, she thought, and home. Dancing slowly in a family embrace with Fiona and the boys, until a feeling of absence made itself known, and Sean and Fiona had pulled Roary in to join them. She smiled remembering the look they had exchanged, one of joy that things had ended well, and one perhaps of promise?
She slipped on her coat and picked up her shoes. Carefully opening her bedroom door, she made her way to the boys' room and peeked in. Leaning back onto the doorframe, she sighed, enjoying the sight of them whole and together under this roof wither herself and her mother. She wondered if Ian would speak tomorrow and what he wold have to say. Was his experience something too horrible to speak about? And what of Sean, who had fallen asleep with tears still wet on his cheeks? She paused to take a long, sweet breath. She would worry about their tomorrows tomorrow. Tonight she was going to see if Roary was indeed waiting on the strand.
She felt light as she slipped out the door. A feeling of being totally centered seemed to add lift to her whole body. It was if she had lost both years and pounds in just the last few hours. She was tempted to skip she felt so giddy, but held herself back given the rough terrain. Still, when she rounded onto the strand and saw the figure in the moonlight, she could not hold herself back. Her simple gait became a loping run. For a brief moment she thought, "I do really hope this is him." That was just before she launched herself into the shadow's arms. When its head bowed to claim her lips and the heart uncurled from her belly to wind down to her toes and up to wrap around her spine, she knew exactly who had caught her in the moonlight.
Clinging to each other with the music of the waves making a strident offset to the racing of the blood in their veins, they could have been ghostlike vestiges of the past. Lovers lost upon the strand of time itself, had it not been for the modern cut of their clothing.
Lin leaned back in his arms and gazed into his eyes. "Vacation is just about up for the boys. Their plane leaves in just two days."
"Aye, well at least it's humans that will be flyin'," he grinned.
Her serious countenance did not waver. "Yes, it's just that with all that has happened, I think I will have to go back with them. I was planning to stay another month, but I am not sure I can do that now. Who knows what they have really been through?"
Roary peeled away from her. He had nor really thought about what would happen when the quest was over. He knew the boys would go home. He even thought Fiona would go at some point. But somehow he had never pictured Lin anywhere but here. Running a hand through his mane of curls, he looked down at the sand and the rock. "Aye, no one knows. But perhaps, ye'll find out more on the morrow and can make this decision then?" He asked with a hopeful lilt at the end.
"I suppose. Perhaps I am just over-mothering and assuming the worst. Perhaps they just padded about, and the worst they went through was eating a raw rabbit or two."
"Well, 'tis possible." He moved closer, close enough to put his hands in her hair. He loved the silk of it on his fingers. Then he kissed her again, kissed her long and deep, trying to put into the kiss all that he was not able to say, all that he hoped she already knew.
She rose into the kisss, pressing herself closer. She moved her hands inside his overcoat, pressing her hands against chest, rubbing the rough wool of his jacket. Feeling the heat of emotion pressing through her, she balled her hands in the fabric and heard a soft crinkle. She moved her hands under the jacket, seeking more touch, more heat. The kiss became a moment of its own. It became almost a being of its own. It was as if they created a blend of themselves in the flow of that caress. His hand stroked through the silk of her hair, followed the outline of her face, settled into the curve of her neck and pulled her closer, though there seemed no distance to spare. Around them the sea continued its ceaseless battle with the rocks as the moon bathed everything in its blue wash, a silent presence, watching all, absolving all, encouraging all.
Lin let her mind release itself completely into the embrace. She let her senses take over her will and reveled in the absolute freedom. Beneath her palm she could feel the roughness of his chest, the hair curling under the cotton of his shirt. The heat leaking through to saturate her senses. It was indescribably seductive. She circled her hand, intent on the feel of the texture and heat, pulling back sharply as the edge of her hand was sliced. "What in the world?" She spun her hand inside his jacket and pulled at the offending piece of paper. Just as he reached to stop her, it came free and edged into the bite of the moon's omnipresent glare.
The shock of what she was seeing made her rigid, speechless. Her body hard-braked from passionate heat to blank, empty cold. He stood silent, one hand caught at the nape of her neck, the other fallen at his side.
"No, please tell me no," Lin rasped as a tear began its slow trail from eye to chin.
Still he said nothing, He could think of nothing. His guilt, now exposed, was etched on his face. When she finally looked at him, when the silence had waited too long, she knew there would be no salving answer.
"It was you. I never lost it. It was you. And when you were done with it, you left it in the spare room. Why? Why would you steal my thoughts? Why would you sneak in and take my past from me without my choosing?" Her voice rose steadily as she cast her accusations, lobbed her questions at him, until finally waving her poem in his face, she locked onto his eyes.
Still he was silent. He had no explanation that made sense. What could he give this woman that would make stealing her privacy all right?
"Why?" she practically screamed as she pummeled him in the chest with her fist.
He caught her hand with both of his.
'I ha' no reason that makes what I did right. I searched the cottage for the brooch. 'Twas me burden then and I failed. I found yer little book, I thought it might help me wi' the riddle. After that, after I began the readin' o' it, I should ha' stopped. But I dinna'. An the poem? I loved it. I still do, though not as much as I do its author."
She stared at him. how could he talk about loving her in the same breath as betraying her?
"I don't know how you were raised. But love and betrayal of trust don't live side by side in my world. I guess I helped you enjoy a little adventure. I do hope I was entertaining enough for you, a big strapping thief like yourself. As for the poem, sorry, but an author's work is their own and unless it is published, it is only read by those they trust." She pushed away from him , crumpling the slip of paper and pressing it into her pocket. The tears were freely cascading down her face now. "I really didn't think I could hurt more than I did before I came here. At least not more at the hands of a man. Congratulations, Bookseller, you've proven that theory wrong." Then she turned and began to run back along the path. This time there was no lightness to her step. Her gait looked more like the disjointed efforts of a broken puppet forced to finish its performance by a mad puppeteer.
"Lin, please don't, no like this," she heard him calling. She could swear she heard a crack in his voice. He was a damn good actor, that one, should have gone out for the Irish national stage, she thought as she let anger take over the emptiness that threatened to consume her.
Alone with the moonlight and the sea, Roary let the guilt wash over him. He had been carrying it for far too long. Perhaps he should have told her ealier, when Aiofe had first appeared. But that would not explain why he had read on or why he had kept the poem. No, that could not be explained. He looked down at his hands. They were empty now, as empty as the arms that had so recently been full. He felt drained of purpose and drained of honor. He could go after her, but to what end? He had betrayed her trust. Some things can never be undone, not even with a twist of magic. He pulled his collar up and headed for home, back to his empty flat and the yawning stacks of books. His shop seemed liked very small solace after all that had just taken place. The idea of his days spent idly running it and chatting up the odd tourist and his neighbors seemed an eternity of solitude. He heaved a sigh. Perhaps it would do him some good. Given time, solace may turn to peace of mind at some point even if it doesna fill the heart.
Tuesday, December 27, 2011
Participles and Portents (76)
Iron Soaked Sands
Thom froze, waiting for his bullet to find its mark. The air around him seemed to lose its freshness, In fact, everything seemed to become more dense, heavier, as if a thickness had descended and wrapped all in it. The red's head moved slowly to lock its gaze upon Thom. He could feel the contact but didn't spare the hound even a momentary flicker of awareness. He remained concentrated on the flow in front of him. Had he been wide of the mark? What could he possibly say to his Mairy to explain his bullet lodged in Conn's head? There would be no explanation that would ease her through a loss of that kind inflicted by his own hand. It would not matter that he had been trying to save him, only the end result would matter. And he would not lie to her. She would see through that all too quickly. Still he waited in the dense surround for an answer. All these thoughts pulsed through him, the gorge rising in his throat as the red spray finally rose from the pair.
His eyes were drawn away from the gore by the unbelievable sight taking place around Coll. The hound was splintering in front of him, shards of light splitting the grey hide in random shades of color. Splinters of crimson, indigo, amber and emerald broke the hound into an array of blinding colors which grew brighter with every breakpoint. When the color finally faded, the grey was gone. There was naught left but a dent in the foliage where he had stood. Thom tore his gaze back to the stag and Conn.
The red haze of the blood spatter hung in the air. Droplets of blood dispersed like a centralized cloud of supernatural rain, still too dense to see which animal had taken the hit. Both were still standing. The stag still turning to gore the hound, the hound moving in - teeth bared - lunging to the bare throat of the larger beast. He couldna' make out these facts for himself in truth, he could only surmise them from what he had seen before. From what he remembered before he had pulled the trigger and let loose the bullet. He shut his eyes briefly in a quick prayer that Conn would not be touched by his choice.
Opening them he was staggered. The streaks of light were beginning to blur the crimson rain and his eyes were filled with the same odd light that had taken Coll. It splintered and shifted, growing brighter as it had before, and then it seemed to falter and dim, growing weaker until the light appeared to withdraw. It looked like a fire suddenly quenched, leaving Conn exposed beneath the stag whose torso still shifted to tear at his chest. He started forward. Then the light flared again, stronger than before, bright enough that the color faded, leaving only white hot light and after it darkness. Thom's eyes took time to adjust to the absence of the light. What he saw left him cold and raw to the bone. Conn was gone. Vanished. All that was left was a smear of blood trailing along one antler of the now fallen stag. He should be happy, they would have plenty of meat, but he felt indescribably empty. No, what he truly felt was scrubbed clean from the inside out. Aye, that was it, and that would surely take some getting used to. He stood a few moments, bracing himself, then he forced himself to go through the pattern of gutting, cleaning and slicing the meat and hide, preparing it for the trek home. He was going to home to Mairy. He was going home, not empty handed to be sure, but empty in a way, that much was all too true.
Mairy sat back and watched Cait with her pups. She said a prayer under her breath. The bleeding had slowed with the stitching, but she couldna' be sure it it would hold. An' she had no way of knowin' if Cait was bleeding internally. She watched as Cait licked at the pups to clean them. They were unnaturally large and had passed into the world not as wee bits of pink flesh only sporting a bit of fur here and there like whiskers comin' in on a man's chin. No, these pups had a small coat on them. As Cait cleaned them of the birth film, their coats began to reveal themselves more fully. The first born and largest of the two was a soft blond. It made Mairy's heart turn to look at such a tiny replica of her Conn. Cait nudged him to suckle and turned to the younger. She seemed to take a bit more time cleaning the one that had almost cost her her life and might still, thought Mairy. This one, looking perhaps all of three weeks only rather than the full month like the other, was a grey, already showing the deep grey stripe down its back peculiar to its sire.
As Cait began to nudge him toward her teats, the she-hound suddenly swung her head up, her eyes in a whorl of pain. The pups forgotten, she tried to struggle to her feet, but her strength was gone. Crumpling to the ground, Cait let out a loud, whimpering keen of utter loss. It was perhaps the most singularly grievous sound Mairy had ever heard. It chilled her to the bone and made her heart rip a bit in her chest. She pulled a blanket out of the linens and wrapped it over the back of the shivering hound. Then she curled up behind her, lying on the floor, and stroked her, crooning softly. Even as the pups began to suckle again, Cait continued to shiver and whimper softly. Mairy stayed there on the floor holding the new mother, unwilling and perhaps unable to leave the suffering hound, though she wasna really certain what was ailing her so.
They gathered outside the cavern, Lin, Fiona and Roary, each in turn staring out into the sea. They seemed to be willing it to deliver the boys back to them. It seemed such a long time ago that Aiofe had tossed her bones into the waves and the two hounds had disappeared into the froth and the waves. They could think of nowhere else to be. Fiona stood holding the quilts she had brought with her. The packs at her feet which held her discarded clothes were markers of how ever thoughtful she truly was. More, they reflected how ever hopeful she remained. They were all of them wet, yet no one mentioned the cold or the wind nipping at them as they waited. Lin moved closer to Fiona, reaching out to grasp her mother's hand as the time dragged on. It seemed like they had been standing there forever, and yet no answer came from the waves. Fiona pressed her hand as if to say "Patience, dear, patience." They kept their collective gaze locked on the sea. Roary took a few steps forward. His impatience prodding him toward the waves, as if moving toward the water could force the sea to give up the treasure they sought.
The wind kicked up its heels and made a whistling roar around them, pressing the waves into a fine froth against the rock and sending the spray higher. The sound was almost deafening. Then Lin heard it. A high pitched howl. It sounded like an animal caught in a very nasty trap, its flesh ripping or bones snapping. It made her breath turn in on itself, actually made the bones in her ears ache with the pure pain of it. Fiona picked up on it too. She wrapped her arms around her daughter just as a massive wave broke the rocks and the howl turned to gut wrenching sobs which came from a curled form on the sand. It was Sean, lying naked and looking broken on the sand. Roary rushed forward and covered him in his overcoat. He helped him to stand as Lin and Fiona flew foward to embrace him. Sean turned into their embrace, hugging his mother and his nana and continuing to sob uncontrollably. Lin caught Roary's eye as he turned to stare at the sea once more. Where was Ian? They had gone in together. Why was Sean here alone? And why was he crying as if he had lost something he could never get back?
Sean looked at his mother, registering in her face that his brother had not yet returned. They turned as a group, Lin and Fiona still holding him, and stared at the sea. It had grown calm and even, as if it had determined to take a nap or fallen into a deep sleep. It did not appear roused at all by any need to disgorge an unnatural visitor. They moved a bit closer, pressing hard to each other, each thinking their own thoughts. all assuming the other was equally focused on Ian and his continued absence. The occasional tear still found its way slowly down Sean's cheek. Roary moved back up the strand on his way to join them. Sean broke from his mother and Nana and strode as if to meet him on his way. They passed each other on the way, Sean's gaze focused only on the sea. As he neared it, it began to rise. It frothed and curled in a menacing manner. Small breakers began to push madly to crash violently against the rocks. The sky darkened with every violent crash of the sea until the light was almost covered with an ominous dark pall of grey. Lin watched in horror as a large wave began to crest, forming in the sea and moving toward the strand. She stepped forward thinking to pull Sean away from the threat of the wave just as it cupped and spit violently, bringing itself just short of the shore but leaving its detritus there in a mangled heap. The spewed form came flying out of the spray large and gangly and furred. Fiona gasped loudly at the sight. But what lay on the wet sand and rock was another matter, it was a naked human form.
Sean rushed forward to him, taking the coat from his own shoulders and covering his brother. He leaned down to whisper something to him. Slowly Ian rose, using two hands to press himself to his knees, thrusting upward so he appeared to be standing on them. Sean helped him to his feet. He swayed precariusly, leaning into Sean for support and balance. Fiona ran forward, wrapping Sean in a quilt. Lin was directly behind her. They fell into a hug together, the four of them swaying. It felt wonderful to be together, to be whole. Lin glanced over at Roary and saw Sean reach out and beckon him into the group. This was followed by a wave from Fiona. He joined them hesitantly, but was absorbed readily into the circle, all pressed together with the thrill of being together again. Finally separating, tears on their cheeks, Roary moved off and returned with the boys' packs.
"I've a feelin' ye might be more comfortable in some of yer own things than that quilt and me coat, aye?"
The boys looked at him awkwardly. Finally he pulled out pants and thick sweaters for both and brought them over. "These might do ye well." He handed the clothing to them and suggested that the women might stand off a bit while the menfolk changed. It took a bit, but soon enough they were back together. Lin noticed that neither boy had said anything yet. She had mentioned this to Fiona, but her mother had simply suggested that she give it time. As they turned to walk toward the cottage Ian pulled a hand through his hair and Lin nearly fell to the sand. "Stop right there," she demanded. She reached out and pulled his hand to her. A deep gash ran the length of his knuckles just under them on the backside. The blood had thickened and set, but it looked clear that it needed stitches. It was not a small wound, that was certain. 'Why didn't you tell us you were hurt?" Ian just shrugged his shoulders. Fiona and Roary stepped over to inspect the wound. They both dug into their own packs and, combining elements from each, managed to clean and bind it well enough that Lin agreed to go to the cottage first rather than rush off to a hospital.
They walked toward the cottage. The five of them taking their time, the boys adjusting, the others simply feeling the wonder of the geasa lifted. Suddenly Lin was hit hard from behind. She tumbled to the ground and pressed to roll over, only to take another hit. Rolling over, she found both boys, eyes laughing, hovering over her. She rose just enough to wrap a leg over one and hook an arm around the other, shifting position to wrestle them to the sand, laughing. They rolled in the sand as if the boys were only six and eleven, playing from days long past, tickling and giggling, enjoying being alive and together. Finally, Sean simply said "Ma," in a gasp of pleasure. It felt like home, like the most perfect gift.
Fiona called to them, "Time to get clean, and dry and well fed. I need some time with my grandsons."
"You are more than welcome to join us, " she added, nodding to Roary.
"Aye, that sound's grand."
Thom froze, waiting for his bullet to find its mark. The air around him seemed to lose its freshness, In fact, everything seemed to become more dense, heavier, as if a thickness had descended and wrapped all in it. The red's head moved slowly to lock its gaze upon Thom. He could feel the contact but didn't spare the hound even a momentary flicker of awareness. He remained concentrated on the flow in front of him. Had he been wide of the mark? What could he possibly say to his Mairy to explain his bullet lodged in Conn's head? There would be no explanation that would ease her through a loss of that kind inflicted by his own hand. It would not matter that he had been trying to save him, only the end result would matter. And he would not lie to her. She would see through that all too quickly. Still he waited in the dense surround for an answer. All these thoughts pulsed through him, the gorge rising in his throat as the red spray finally rose from the pair.
His eyes were drawn away from the gore by the unbelievable sight taking place around Coll. The hound was splintering in front of him, shards of light splitting the grey hide in random shades of color. Splinters of crimson, indigo, amber and emerald broke the hound into an array of blinding colors which grew brighter with every breakpoint. When the color finally faded, the grey was gone. There was naught left but a dent in the foliage where he had stood. Thom tore his gaze back to the stag and Conn.
The red haze of the blood spatter hung in the air. Droplets of blood dispersed like a centralized cloud of supernatural rain, still too dense to see which animal had taken the hit. Both were still standing. The stag still turning to gore the hound, the hound moving in - teeth bared - lunging to the bare throat of the larger beast. He couldna' make out these facts for himself in truth, he could only surmise them from what he had seen before. From what he remembered before he had pulled the trigger and let loose the bullet. He shut his eyes briefly in a quick prayer that Conn would not be touched by his choice.
Opening them he was staggered. The streaks of light were beginning to blur the crimson rain and his eyes were filled with the same odd light that had taken Coll. It splintered and shifted, growing brighter as it had before, and then it seemed to falter and dim, growing weaker until the light appeared to withdraw. It looked like a fire suddenly quenched, leaving Conn exposed beneath the stag whose torso still shifted to tear at his chest. He started forward. Then the light flared again, stronger than before, bright enough that the color faded, leaving only white hot light and after it darkness. Thom's eyes took time to adjust to the absence of the light. What he saw left him cold and raw to the bone. Conn was gone. Vanished. All that was left was a smear of blood trailing along one antler of the now fallen stag. He should be happy, they would have plenty of meat, but he felt indescribably empty. No, what he truly felt was scrubbed clean from the inside out. Aye, that was it, and that would surely take some getting used to. He stood a few moments, bracing himself, then he forced himself to go through the pattern of gutting, cleaning and slicing the meat and hide, preparing it for the trek home. He was going to home to Mairy. He was going home, not empty handed to be sure, but empty in a way, that much was all too true.
Mairy sat back and watched Cait with her pups. She said a prayer under her breath. The bleeding had slowed with the stitching, but she couldna' be sure it it would hold. An' she had no way of knowin' if Cait was bleeding internally. She watched as Cait licked at the pups to clean them. They were unnaturally large and had passed into the world not as wee bits of pink flesh only sporting a bit of fur here and there like whiskers comin' in on a man's chin. No, these pups had a small coat on them. As Cait cleaned them of the birth film, their coats began to reveal themselves more fully. The first born and largest of the two was a soft blond. It made Mairy's heart turn to look at such a tiny replica of her Conn. Cait nudged him to suckle and turned to the younger. She seemed to take a bit more time cleaning the one that had almost cost her her life and might still, thought Mairy. This one, looking perhaps all of three weeks only rather than the full month like the other, was a grey, already showing the deep grey stripe down its back peculiar to its sire.
As Cait began to nudge him toward her teats, the she-hound suddenly swung her head up, her eyes in a whorl of pain. The pups forgotten, she tried to struggle to her feet, but her strength was gone. Crumpling to the ground, Cait let out a loud, whimpering keen of utter loss. It was perhaps the most singularly grievous sound Mairy had ever heard. It chilled her to the bone and made her heart rip a bit in her chest. She pulled a blanket out of the linens and wrapped it over the back of the shivering hound. Then she curled up behind her, lying on the floor, and stroked her, crooning softly. Even as the pups began to suckle again, Cait continued to shiver and whimper softly. Mairy stayed there on the floor holding the new mother, unwilling and perhaps unable to leave the suffering hound, though she wasna really certain what was ailing her so.
They gathered outside the cavern, Lin, Fiona and Roary, each in turn staring out into the sea. They seemed to be willing it to deliver the boys back to them. It seemed such a long time ago that Aiofe had tossed her bones into the waves and the two hounds had disappeared into the froth and the waves. They could think of nowhere else to be. Fiona stood holding the quilts she had brought with her. The packs at her feet which held her discarded clothes were markers of how ever thoughtful she truly was. More, they reflected how ever hopeful she remained. They were all of them wet, yet no one mentioned the cold or the wind nipping at them as they waited. Lin moved closer to Fiona, reaching out to grasp her mother's hand as the time dragged on. It seemed like they had been standing there forever, and yet no answer came from the waves. Fiona pressed her hand as if to say "Patience, dear, patience." They kept their collective gaze locked on the sea. Roary took a few steps forward. His impatience prodding him toward the waves, as if moving toward the water could force the sea to give up the treasure they sought.
The wind kicked up its heels and made a whistling roar around them, pressing the waves into a fine froth against the rock and sending the spray higher. The sound was almost deafening. Then Lin heard it. A high pitched howl. It sounded like an animal caught in a very nasty trap, its flesh ripping or bones snapping. It made her breath turn in on itself, actually made the bones in her ears ache with the pure pain of it. Fiona picked up on it too. She wrapped her arms around her daughter just as a massive wave broke the rocks and the howl turned to gut wrenching sobs which came from a curled form on the sand. It was Sean, lying naked and looking broken on the sand. Roary rushed forward and covered him in his overcoat. He helped him to stand as Lin and Fiona flew foward to embrace him. Sean turned into their embrace, hugging his mother and his nana and continuing to sob uncontrollably. Lin caught Roary's eye as he turned to stare at the sea once more. Where was Ian? They had gone in together. Why was Sean here alone? And why was he crying as if he had lost something he could never get back?
Sean looked at his mother, registering in her face that his brother had not yet returned. They turned as a group, Lin and Fiona still holding him, and stared at the sea. It had grown calm and even, as if it had determined to take a nap or fallen into a deep sleep. It did not appear roused at all by any need to disgorge an unnatural visitor. They moved a bit closer, pressing hard to each other, each thinking their own thoughts. all assuming the other was equally focused on Ian and his continued absence. The occasional tear still found its way slowly down Sean's cheek. Roary moved back up the strand on his way to join them. Sean broke from his mother and Nana and strode as if to meet him on his way. They passed each other on the way, Sean's gaze focused only on the sea. As he neared it, it began to rise. It frothed and curled in a menacing manner. Small breakers began to push madly to crash violently against the rocks. The sky darkened with every violent crash of the sea until the light was almost covered with an ominous dark pall of grey. Lin watched in horror as a large wave began to crest, forming in the sea and moving toward the strand. She stepped forward thinking to pull Sean away from the threat of the wave just as it cupped and spit violently, bringing itself just short of the shore but leaving its detritus there in a mangled heap. The spewed form came flying out of the spray large and gangly and furred. Fiona gasped loudly at the sight. But what lay on the wet sand and rock was another matter, it was a naked human form.
Sean rushed forward to him, taking the coat from his own shoulders and covering his brother. He leaned down to whisper something to him. Slowly Ian rose, using two hands to press himself to his knees, thrusting upward so he appeared to be standing on them. Sean helped him to his feet. He swayed precariusly, leaning into Sean for support and balance. Fiona ran forward, wrapping Sean in a quilt. Lin was directly behind her. They fell into a hug together, the four of them swaying. It felt wonderful to be together, to be whole. Lin glanced over at Roary and saw Sean reach out and beckon him into the group. This was followed by a wave from Fiona. He joined them hesitantly, but was absorbed readily into the circle, all pressed together with the thrill of being together again. Finally separating, tears on their cheeks, Roary moved off and returned with the boys' packs.
"I've a feelin' ye might be more comfortable in some of yer own things than that quilt and me coat, aye?"
The boys looked at him awkwardly. Finally he pulled out pants and thick sweaters for both and brought them over. "These might do ye well." He handed the clothing to them and suggested that the women might stand off a bit while the menfolk changed. It took a bit, but soon enough they were back together. Lin noticed that neither boy had said anything yet. She had mentioned this to Fiona, but her mother had simply suggested that she give it time. As they turned to walk toward the cottage Ian pulled a hand through his hair and Lin nearly fell to the sand. "Stop right there," she demanded. She reached out and pulled his hand to her. A deep gash ran the length of his knuckles just under them on the backside. The blood had thickened and set, but it looked clear that it needed stitches. It was not a small wound, that was certain. 'Why didn't you tell us you were hurt?" Ian just shrugged his shoulders. Fiona and Roary stepped over to inspect the wound. They both dug into their own packs and, combining elements from each, managed to clean and bind it well enough that Lin agreed to go to the cottage first rather than rush off to a hospital.
They walked toward the cottage. The five of them taking their time, the boys adjusting, the others simply feeling the wonder of the geasa lifted. Suddenly Lin was hit hard from behind. She tumbled to the ground and pressed to roll over, only to take another hit. Rolling over, she found both boys, eyes laughing, hovering over her. She rose just enough to wrap a leg over one and hook an arm around the other, shifting position to wrestle them to the sand, laughing. They rolled in the sand as if the boys were only six and eleven, playing from days long past, tickling and giggling, enjoying being alive and together. Finally, Sean simply said "Ma," in a gasp of pleasure. It felt like home, like the most perfect gift.
Fiona called to them, "Time to get clean, and dry and well fed. I need some time with my grandsons."
"You are more than welcome to join us, " she added, nodding to Roary.
"Aye, that sound's grand."
Thursday, December 22, 2011
Sharing Great Sounds - Aerials Up
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bQSox0iLr2E
Aerials Up "Superglue" - Official Video
www.youtube.com
A collection of footage from the band's amazing last year to celebrate the release
Aerials Up "Superglue" - Official Video
www.youtube.com
A collection of footage from the band's amazing last year to celebrate the release
Sunday, December 18, 2011
Participles and Portents (75)
Confetti Redemption
The day had been wet, harsh and lonely. Mairy had spent most of the day completing her toils on her own. Cait could not be roused from her spot by the hearth. The poor lamb seemed glazed over. The most she could manage was a waddle to the edge of the kitchen where Mairy had laid out a breakfast for her, a bit of thickened broth over brown bread and a bowl of fresh water. The she-hound had managed to lap up most of the serving and lick the water bowl dry. Mairy had refilled the water and cleaned up the rest of their breakfast remains before going out to see about tending to the rest of the daily tasks. At least with the rest of the pack gone there were fewer animals to tend and no need to muck out their area. The day had hung heavy with the promise of a rain that left her damp and uncomfortable. She had almost wished that nature would unleash its fury. It seemed that letting the heavens pour would be a release from the burdensome weight of the oppressive clouds and their dank hold over the day. It was a far cry from being just a summer day held down by the weight of an expectant storm. Those were unpalatable enough, but, no, this was the weight of a winter's storm, hanging in the cold air, waiting to add its considerable bite. It made the bones and the soul ache at the same time. It was enough to make a person want to rattle his fist in the air like a soldier rattling his sword and an unseen enemy daring the battle to come, if for no better reason that it seemed the fight would be better than the agony of waiting.
Returning to the cottage she found Cait crouching near the hearth. The hound was seemingly staring through the hearth, as if she could see beyond the stones to her heart's desire. It was unnerving sometimes the way Cait acted, like a lover desperately waiting for news of her man gone off to war. Mairy knew it was all fancy on her part, yet she remembered standing with the hound on the edge of the property where her Thom had last been and feeling bereft in his absence, and she sensed that Cait was letting the same feelings of longing and worry wash through her veins as well. 'Twas probably no more than the ramblings of a lonely wife sharing her days with a hound about to pup that brought on these odd shifts of mind. Surely that and the bond she had forged with Conn. My, how she missed that scraggy headed hound. She feared for him too. She knelt next to Cait and said a short prayer for the delivery of Thom, Conn and Coll, rubbing Cait's back before she rose to put a supper together.
She was tired, far too tired to make an effort to put together a real spread. With only herself and the hound to care for, it did not seem necessary to do much. She pulled out the couple of potatoes she had set aside the night before and quickly sliced and quartered them, putting them into her pot with a bit of fat and hefting it over to the fire. Returning to the kitchen she took up a banger and sliced it quickly, added a twice quartered onion and some garlic and took these to the pot. She watched as these began to brown and then added a bit of water, just enough to create a stew to serve herself and Cait. Then she busied herself making a flat of biscuits. It had been sometime and she knew the hounds enjoyed them. She could bank the fire and set them to baking after she took off the stew. Finally, she put the kettle on to boil. Her tea made, she curled into her chair and edged into the end of her book, sighing. She would have liked to share this with Conn. She looked down at Cait. She had curled nearly full in on herself, or as far as she could get with that enormous belly in the way. It was unlikely that Cait would be listening to the story this afternoon.
Mairy let herself slide into the story, let it wrap its arms around her and pull her in. It was why she loved to read. A good book built a place for you inside it and let you reside in the story, not as a character of your own, but in it nonetheless. Your part was to see and feel the story from all angles, to participate in it as fully as the characters themselves, letting its interior meanings take root in your own life and she fancied sometimes that you left your mark on the book as well. Your sensibilities, needs, ethics and reactions somehow touching the characters and plots, so that when and if you read it again, it would be just a shade different, having been touched by what you gave to it when you read it last. She laughed; if it was nonsense then it was hers, and no one else needed to know of it.
The stew was rich in the air, time to test its thickness and give it a good stir. She rose, taking the tea things to the kitchen and getting her towel and ladle. Turning back to the hearth she noticed abruptly that Cait had turned and her breathing was no longer deep, it was shallow and seemed troubled. She moved to the hound quickly. It was too early for her pups to be coming, though nothing about this seeding had proven normal so far. She had gained in size far too quickly, that much was certain. She checked the hound's eyes, they were glazed in pain and fear. This was Cait's first litter, so the fear seemed natural enough. She could only imagine the fear should she ever bear a child. It doesna' really help knowin' a thing, not when ye are faced with the sharp edge of it.
As Mairy slicked her hand down Cait's back, she could feel the life moving inside of her. She wasn't sure, but it certainly seemed like it might be the hound's time. She stood and checked the stew. Going back to the kitchen she brought out a bowl and a large pitcher of water. She spooned out some stew for herself and then added the water, turning the stew predominantly to broth. She didna know how long this would take, but she doubted there would be time for cookin' as they went. She went back to the cupboards and rummaged for her oldest clean linens and rags. Then she went to the hound and shifted her, made a nest for the mother-to-be and settled her back in front of the fire. All she could do now was wait and help as best she could as nature took its course. She lifted her book and tried to concentrate as the sounds of Cait's struggle to bring her pups into the world began to rise in the small space.
Coll and Conn caught the scent almost in unison. It was strong, rich and pumping with life. The musk almost over-powered all other scents, it was such a heady aroma. A stag, a very large stag one would assume based on the sheer volume and density of the scent trail, was theirs for the taking. The hounds caught each other's eye. The hunt was on. Despite the need to flee the area this hunt was an ingrained need. Their desire to find and bring down the stag overrode any instinct to continue their dash to safety. It overcame their caution when it came to getting caught by the hunter themselves. The stag had become a prize above all others and they would find it and bend it to their will, slake their thirst upon it. The saliva was already pooling in their maws. They could taste it, wet and full, ready to burst open with flavor, the stag's throat already a visceral, tangible thing in their teeth.
They scented the area together and then padded off silently. They were roughly twenty feet apart as they followed the urgency that thrummed through their veins.
Thom found himself watching the small red hound most intently. He worked his way through the woods, avoiding the briar and the bramble, passing as quietly as possible. They moved at a fairly rapid pace despite the hounds that were burdened with the extra drag of the meat-laden rigging. He kept looking for signs of Coll and Conn's passage, but he did not find any. He was relying solely on the forward movement of the pack, which seemed to be following a trail that the red had the best nose for. Thom's mind began to wander. He found himself thinking more and more about the comforts of home. He would be glad to be done with this hunt, to be buried in the heavy weather and set-in with Mairy for the duration. There in their little patch they could bide the time, just the two of them. A warm fire, a book in Mairy's lap and Thom in his chair. Aye, they would talk and Mairy would weave him a tale or two as the fire died down 'til it was time to be a-bed. His smile hovered on his face as he let himself muse over what he would find on his homecoming. The baying of hounds interrupted his reverie, bringing his head up short as he tried to discern why they might be raising the alarm. His heart quickened; perhaps his homecoming might be a bit more blessed after all. Unable to figure out precisely what was driving their racket, he picked up his pace, perhaps his luck had changed and they had actually sighted the two wayward members of the pack.
As they drove, the air in the car seemed to become thinner. With every mile they traversed their breath grew shorter, their lungs more restricted. It was as if the passage was siphoning off the oxygen in the car. Finally Roary could make it no farther and he pulled off at the nearest roundabout. He clambered out of the car panting for breath.
"It feels like something is sucking the air right out of me," gasped Lin as she joined him.
"Aye, 'tis not natural."
"Perhaps we should put everything in our packs good and tight and keep all the windows down?" inquired Fiona as she made her way to their side.
"I've been drivin' with the window down fer the last hour," grumbled Roary.
"I know, but if all the windows are opened then maybe that would help?"
"Well, we can't stay here. We have to get back, anything could be happening to the boys," stated Lin in desperation.
"Aye, or to the swans. If that wing has healed, they could be gone." Roary replied flatly.
Lin gasped. She had never even thought to consider that risk. "We have to go. We have to keep going."
She rushed back to the car. Taking a deep breath she got back in and stuffed anything that was loose into her pack. There wasn't much, a few bits of paper from their travels, one of her gloves, some pens. She tied the pack closed and rolled down her window. Fiona climbed in and cleared the back seat, then rolled down both windows. Roary simply lowered himself into the driver's seat with a long protracted sigh.
"May the saints preserve us and the fair folk lend us aid on our path," he imparted and then he started the car and swung back onto the roundabout and onward toward his home and their journey's end.
The sucking pull at their chests began almost immediately, yet somehow it was not as strong, not as binding upon them. It felt like a minor chest cold this time. They each fought it on their own, all prepared to press through - to reach the strand.
Cait was whimpering and shivering. Her coat was soaked with sweat. There was nothing about this birthing that was progressing normally. Mairy had had another cup of tea and managed to soothe Cait earlier in the day, even getting about a cup of broth into the struggling mother. Afterward, the she-hound had dozed for a bit, her legs jutting straight as the contractions hit her in her sleep, then relaxing. It looked oddly like she was jumping hedges in her dream. Then Mairy noticed a small trickle of blood. ' Twasn't much, but she had not expected the poor thing to bleed like that. She could see the pups turning through the thin skin veil of Cait's stomach. It looked as if they were jockeying for position. Mairy had leaned down to mop Cait's muzzle when the hound's eyes shot open. There she was almost eye to eye with her. The sudden full contact shocked her so much that she fell back onto her rump.
Then Cait began to breathe heavier and Mairy knew it was time. Her eyes were locked with the hound's and she could almost feel the blend of fear and expectation that rippled through her as she tried to push the new life from her heaving body. Mairy tore her gaze away from Cait's, stroking her side to move where she could check the birthing progress. The pup had crowned and was just inching its way into the world. Cait spasmed again, a sharp howl escaping her as the internal drive propelled her through another thrust. Mairy's eyes glazed with tears as the pup found its way into the world. It was a marvel. She did not remember ever seeing a newborn hound of such size. It could easily be mistaken for one as much as a month old. Her hands itched to reach for it, but she knew better than to touch it before it had been cleaned and suckled by its mother. Cait needed to claim it as her own.
They had tracked the stag. Standing downwind, they could see it through the branches of the large oak that covered them. In silence they separated, each circling for a better position from which to approach the attack. They did not have the benefit of the full pack to enable an easy cornering of their prey. They would need to work in careful tandem to bring him down. He was a glorious beast, easily two hands bigger than any they had tracked before, his full chest and round muscled rump clear measures of his strength. The two hounds let instinct guide them. Their jaws were already slack with saliva, more than ready to feel the depth of their bite into the magnificent stag's flesh as it surrendered to them.
Conn rushed the animal first, sending it careening off to the left, forcing Coll to race from his cover and block its effort to escape. The stag practically reared, double tapping its front hooves as it turned to bolt off to its right. Coll raced after it, knowing Conn would be moving in to block its path. The grey increased his pace, veering slightly to the side trying to gain a parallel path. The beast caught sight of Conn charging it and moved again, this time bolting along the line of the path Coll had taken. Coll could feel his muscles move to join with the singing in his veins as he began to close on the stag. His pace was quickening. His eyes locked onto the base of the animal's throat. He could feel the saliva thinning and sliding loosely from his maw. It was in this moment, the moment just before the strike, that he heard it. He heard Cait's sharp howl. His pace faltered. A brief image of Cait flickered in front of him erasing the stag. An image of Cait panting and heaving. His pups were coming. Then the rush of the hunt flooded him anew, fed by the rush of the vision. But the stag had turned again and his chance at its throat had passed.
The red was circling, the rest of the pack had set up the howl and were pawing the ground. Thom eyed the odd spectacle and then edged his way in to the red. On the ground was an area where the leafy debris had been disturbed and above on a bit of bramble a tiny tuft of blond fur was snagged. It seemed they had picked up the trail again. He gingerly plucked off the bit of fur and gave the red a good scent of it and a scratch behind the ears. Tucking the tuft in his jacket pocket he signaled the pack and they moved on. This time it felt less as if they were groping their way, more as if each hound had the scent. They spread out again, weaving in their typical pattern. He felt buoyant, almost jubilant. It seemed that he would be going home to Mairy with more than just meat for the larder, he would be bringing home Conn as well. The burden he had been carrying was no more heavy than the pack on his back, and that he knew how to shoulder well.
After a time, it became clear that the hounds were excited about more than just the scent of the two hounds they were tracking. They were following game as well. Thom only hoped it would not lead them off the track of Conn and Coll. This was one time where he truly did not care if they found the largest stag in the forest, he wanted the hounds back first. The red seemed focused though, and he held his hopes high as they padded silently through the dense woody area.
The hounds slowed and then stopped, leaning back on their haunches and cocking their heads to the side. Thom wandered up into the middle of the pack, listening with them. They stood there silently, until he picked up on it. The sound of hooves, not running in a direct path, but a cutting motion. Perhaps Coll and Conn were in the middle of a hunt. If so, they had a sizable beast on their hands. That could bode well for Thom, it might just give him the upper hand in surprising them and finding a way to bring them back under his wing.
The pull of the sea carried them over the crags and rocks and along the twisted turns of the cavern's entrance. Its echoing reverberations setting the tone of expectation higher by fractions with every step that carried them closer to their goal. Following the slit of the penlight that Roary carried, the trio moved into the cavern. Here the roar of the waves was reduced to the lapping of the gentle pool that fed the cavern. Lin remembered well how different the sea's face became when you moved out from this calm place and onto the ledge She flashed briefly on herself fishing for seaweed. Then the image became that of Sean disappearing over the top of the crag the day he found the brooch. She closed her eyes, wishing that that day had never come, that she had never brought her boys to this place at that time. She reached out and clasped Fiona's hand, Roary in turn reached out for hers. They moved down this way, connected, drawing strength from each other. Lin thought for a moment that if it were possible to move forward without stumbling, her mother and Roary might even have joined hands. It seemed odd, yet somehow incredibly normal, how much they were leaning on and toward each other now at the end of the journey. All this slipped through her mind in the fragment of time it took for their eyes to adjust to the light in the cavern.
The first thing she registered was how beautiful the little space truly was with the light reflecting in the water and the bits of shiny rock where the sea and sun met. Then the bile began to rise in the back of her throat as she realized that there was something very important missing from the lovely picture in front of her.
A soft almost mewing noise, as close to a ghostlike keening Roary had ever heard, rose up his spine. He realized it was coming from Fiona and let go of Lin's hand to circle round to her mother.
"Not here, " keened Fiona.
"Hush, we don't know for sure where the bird is just yet," said Roary.
Lin moved slowly down to the water's edge, "No, not here," she echoed Fiona's lament.
Mairy gaped in awe as Cait continued to struggle with the forces of nature. The form of another pup writhed inside her and pressed for relief. A paw slipped into view. "Och, no lass, this is no the way a pup should come into the world." Mairy pressed on Cait and pushed the paw back in. She moved quickly then to wash her hands and gather more linen. By the time she had returned Cait had gone to shivering and whimpering. Mairy bent down to lock eyes with her. "We'll have none of that, Miss Cait. Ye are going to take care of yer fine young pups, not me."
With determination, Mairy moved between Cait's hind legs. The second pup must have torn something when it thrust through with its paw as Cait's blood was drenching the birthing bed. Mairy retrieved the cooled kettle from the kitchen. It would be better warmed but at least it was clean water. She knelt again and cleaned what she could of the blood away, enough to try and see what she was going to try to do. She shoved her sleeves up, then gave up and stood, stripping down to her shift as fast as possible. Her arm clear now, she sluiced Cait down again and with a whispered prayer slowly eased her hand into the birthing canal with the pup. She felt around gingerly and finding no obstruction she could name she gathered the legs together and began to pull. Cait seized and the blood began to flow in earnest. "Och no, he canna come this way then can he?" Mairy felt again. She had never tried to do anything close to what she was considering. But she had to try. The pup's legs were all that were really loose so far. She reached in with both arms. Slick now with blood, she began to try to thread him back. The pup kicked a bit but gradually he returned to the womb. Then she let one hand follow him in and prayed she had it in her. Groping blindly she felt along the pup's body from the inside, then she used her other hand to feel its outline from the outside. A cool breeze swept across her as she found the head and gently began to massage it round, trying to keep track of the paws as she did so. Finally, she prayed it was the head at the entrance to the world and pressed down on Cait trying to help her deliver. Every thrust came with more blood. "I canna lose ye, girl. Deliver the pup so I can try to take care of ye," crooned Mairy. Soon the litany, "Deliver the pup" was blended with the whimpers and howls of the hound as she struggled to complete this task.
The Stag had reared away from Coll and begun to run in what appeared to be a clear path out of danger. Its sense of relief was palpable. The grey had faltered and the menacing blond was nowhere in sight. It raced for freedom and for its life. An opening through the trees perhaps ten feet ahead. Once there it would be able to block its pursuers with the grace of the trees and be gone, be safe. Conn reeled for a moment at the loss. He had been certain that Coll had the death strike, then suddenly the stag was free and out of their box. His pause almost lost them the chase as much as Coll's falter lost them the kill. Then he adjusted. He would have this prize. He moved off to the left of the bolting stag, staying just out of its range of vision. He pressed his speed and circled, noting that Coll had done the same. They would cut it off just before it reached the trees. He felt incredibly powerful, the blood-lust spurring him on to greater strength. Every muscle in his powerful body met his urge and he flew across the ground gaining ground, knowing that there was no escape for his intended victim. He felt more alive then he ever had before.
The stag was there, just steps from breaking free, from escaping the trap. He had not lived this long to be brought down so ingloriously. He was better than these two hounds, he was a king of his realm, he wore a crown of victory. His breast was beating with the knowledge that he had won this battle when he caught the movement of a grey shadow from the left. He moved swiftly to the right. He could still make it out, the grey would not be able to catch him. As he moved he just managed to make out the blur of the blond hound moving in on him. He ducked his head down as the blond leapt at him. Conn felt the tip of the antler as it ripped across the paw that had already been injured, but he barely noticed the pain as he rolled from the ground and leapt to strike. His jaws wide, the stag's throat exposed perfectly as he came from underneath. He could feel his teeth begin to sink in as his front claws raked its hide.
"No, not here."
The way she said it was enough to draw the others to the mouth of the cavern. The plaintive hue at the edge of her voice carried a message that sent a feeling of loss into them. They edged together to peer out onto the shallow waves. What they saw sent their hearts plummeting. All three swans rocked together on the sea, their wings interlocked, heads intertwined as if sleeping in a muted embrace.
"Are we too late?" whispered Lin in pale anguish.
"Not while they are still here," answered Fiona.
"But how can I bind them out there?"
"Can we get them to come to us?" Fiona's voice cracked as she asked, her fear so tangible that each felt its weight.
"Seems doubtful that they'd come to land. I don't think I've ever seen the other two inside the cavern," replied Roary.
They stood for a moment. "They are so far out. I have no idea how deep it is where they are, but I have to try to go to them," stated Lin with resolution in her voice.
Lin turned and strode back to the small ledge where once, in a time that seemed like another life, she had divided her cheese and bread while hiding out from a storm. She opened the pack and unwound the two silks that she bore. She began to tie them together. Roary stepped in and took them from her using what skill he had to tie them into tighter knots. He turned to Fiona, hand extended, and she pulled the indigo silk from her pocket. She gave it a final deep inhale and a kiss and then handed it over, her hand crushing hard on the smooth stone in her pocket. She did not seem to notice the tears that flowed down her cheeks. He tied the last scarf firmly to the others, crimson to amber, amber to indigo, pulling at the lengths to test the strength of his efforts. Finally satisfied, he returned them to Lin. She wound them loop over loop around her neck and then took out the brooch, searching for a pocket that would be safe and yet easy to reach in the cold sea. Finally she held it in her hand, "I'm ready."
"Yer not going out in that tow by yerself."
"There is no choice. Aiofe set the geasa on me. I have to finish this if we are to get the boys back."
"Aye, but I'll see that you get there at least."
"We both will."
"But I don't want you at risk too," whined Lin.
"You don't have much choice," snapped Fiona. "We are doing this together, as far as we can."
They linked hands then and waded into the sea, Lin holding on to Roary, Roary holding onto Fiona. They walked out as far as they could, stretching their arms and bracing themselves, realizing finally that the sea was actually calm in the little cove of the cavern. Lin turned and smiled, "It's time." She put the brooch in her mouth, knowing she would need both hands to wind the scarf, and stepped out to walk the last few paces to the swans who had yet to have noticed their arrival. The ground under her feet was pebbled but not difficult to manage. Roary and Fiona moved to stand together, hands still clasped.
Lin took a deep breath and stepped forward, her confidence growing. She moved again. As she took the third step, she heard rather than saw the huge wave that cast itself up as if from nowhere and moved to engulf her. One moment the sea was a tranquil ally and the next she was beneath it in a roiling coil that sucked at her clothes and pulled at her hair. It was as if the sea had hands that were tugging solely at her. The tow caught at the silk about her neck and began to pull. Her throat was caught in its vise-like grip. She pressed against the pull but it only made the silk grip tighter. In desperation she pulled on the other end, beginning to unravel it from her neck. The pulse of the waves pulling at her seemed to increase as the silk began to come free. Frantically she rapped it round her hand, one of Roary's knots held in her palm. The water battered her now, the pin in her mouth pricking her cheeks and her tongue as it it sought release. The need to breathe was almost unbearable, the urge to open her mouth immense. But she knew she would gain only seawater and likely lose the brooch. She would not lose the silk or the brooch.
Roary and Fiona watched the wave take Lin down. They moved in tandem, each attempting to dive in and each holding the other back. It was no natural wave and they would not be able to reach her. This was Lin's battle. They stood locked in a battle with themselves as they waited for Lin to surface.
Lin pulled at the silk, kicking in the direction of the pulling waves. She cursed at the malefactor who was trying to prevent her from finishing her task. Finally when she thought she would perish she simply cried the names of her boys and hugged what she could of the silk to her, ready to breathe her last with their names on her lips. Surrendering, she found herself callously tossed against the craggy edge of the cavern. She used her free hand to pull herself shoulder high above the waves and breathe. Taking sight of where she was, she pressed on. Hand over hand she pulled herself along the crags and to the swans. When she was but a handspan away, one lone neck rose and a black eye greeted her. She would have known that eye anywhere. She hummed the tune she had learned so long ago under her breath and the other necks slowly rose in greeting.
She moved to the swans and they held her gaze. Taking the sea-drenched silks, she began to weave them around the graceful necks. There was just enough silk to create three full interlocking loops. Then she steadied herself and pulled the bloodied brooch from her mouth. She looked each swan in the eye and they back at hers. "I do so hope this truly heals you and brings you back any joy you have lost." There were tears coursing down Lin's cheeks as she bent to place the pin into the silks and bind the swans together.
The pup slid into the world as if he had never caused a bit of problem. Cait, still bleeding as she was, eagerly moved to clean and nudge her pups to suckle. Mairy in the meantime was hard pressed to figure out what to do to stop the young she-hound from bleeding-out and leaving her new family without a mother. She used the water to clean her up and gently apologized to the hound as she reached inside again. She found the tear easily enough, the second pup had dug a trench in its mother's birth canal and the opening as it tried to paw its way out of her. Mairy went for her sutures. She would be sewing blind, but better that than trying to cauterize it. She worried that Cait would not let her do the work, painful as it would likely be and as unnatural as it would seem. But the she-hound just gave her a soulful look from those liquid eyes of hers and continued to lathe her pups.
By the time Mairy had completed her surgery, such as it was, and had cleaned up both the mother and herself, the two pups were sated and settled. She marveled again at the size of them. And then it struck her, these truly were no ordinary hounds. Ye would not normally know so early on what the coloring of a hound would be, they came into that given time - sometimes hours, sometimes days. But these two, they were clearly a blond and a grey, miniature twins for Conn and Coll. Mairy poured herself a nip of whiskey and sat on the floor beside the new family, renewed by the birth and somehow saddened. For it seemed to her that these two pups were almost proof that they would never see the larger pair again.
Thom came upon the clearing just as Conn made the leap. He saw the stag's horn tear the hound's paw. He could see Coll moving in to leap onto its hindquarters and pin it down. Then he saw the grey cock its head to the side, as it for a moment it was no longer thinking of the hunt. The stag was turning back to Conn. If the hound did not execute a perfect strike, or Coll did not give it something to think about by pinning it down, the stag would be in a position to lock its horns into the blond's chest.
Thom pulled up the rifle, loaded it quickly and aimed. He knew his shot was dangerous, that if he was off aim, he could just as easily take down Conn. But he was not in the right position to have a certain death shot to the heart, so he shot for the brain. Too low and it could be Conn. He steadied his aim and fired, his prayer flowing out as the gun retorted.
Lin let the pin slip through the silk and stepped back. At first she was disappointed, all she saw were three lovely birds looking rather silly dressed in the wet silks that draped around them in looping colored waves. But then the sea began to rise. Not like the wave that had taken her down, more a thin curtain of colors that slowly formed itself into a man. As the form took shape, it moved from a man made mostly of seaweeds and coral to an old man infirm and bent, then finally the form that stayed with them - a younger man with a mane of dark curling hair and deep sea-blue eyes. Next to him was the gossamer form of Aiofe, her dress a swirl of shifting color, crimson, amber, indigo and emerald, beautiful but insubstantial. The swans saw the man and lifted their voices. The beautiful voices from her night in the cavern. As they sang, they lifted from the water, the silks unfolding to drape over them. Their wings spread wide and throats extended, the surreal beauty of their voices provided the perfect foil for their metamorphosis as the feather-tipped wings gave way to finger-tipped arms and the long white necks were thickened and the slender birds' heads replaced by the children's faces. They simply seemed to unfold from within the swans' forms and into themselves, finally settling to stand in the water, their arms wrapped around one another, voices still raised in song. Their father's arms outstretched as he surged forward to them, Aiofe still hovering insubstantially at the edge. Her eyes pooled with tears. He turned briefly and took her hand, then continued his surge toward the children. They stood in a full embrace. It was a moment that really cannot be captured in words. It was pristine in its innocence. Then they all just seemed to break apart - to come undone, like little bits of gem-stone colored sea spray, even Aiofe, until all that was left was the sound of the waves in the cavern, the glint of the sun on the sea and trio who stood there, eyes full of wonder and tears.
Just before the scene faded, they caught each other's eye and left the vision of sea-spray confetti to rush toward the cavern's exit and hopefully the boys.
The day had been wet, harsh and lonely. Mairy had spent most of the day completing her toils on her own. Cait could not be roused from her spot by the hearth. The poor lamb seemed glazed over. The most she could manage was a waddle to the edge of the kitchen where Mairy had laid out a breakfast for her, a bit of thickened broth over brown bread and a bowl of fresh water. The she-hound had managed to lap up most of the serving and lick the water bowl dry. Mairy had refilled the water and cleaned up the rest of their breakfast remains before going out to see about tending to the rest of the daily tasks. At least with the rest of the pack gone there were fewer animals to tend and no need to muck out their area. The day had hung heavy with the promise of a rain that left her damp and uncomfortable. She had almost wished that nature would unleash its fury. It seemed that letting the heavens pour would be a release from the burdensome weight of the oppressive clouds and their dank hold over the day. It was a far cry from being just a summer day held down by the weight of an expectant storm. Those were unpalatable enough, but, no, this was the weight of a winter's storm, hanging in the cold air, waiting to add its considerable bite. It made the bones and the soul ache at the same time. It was enough to make a person want to rattle his fist in the air like a soldier rattling his sword and an unseen enemy daring the battle to come, if for no better reason that it seemed the fight would be better than the agony of waiting.
Returning to the cottage she found Cait crouching near the hearth. The hound was seemingly staring through the hearth, as if she could see beyond the stones to her heart's desire. It was unnerving sometimes the way Cait acted, like a lover desperately waiting for news of her man gone off to war. Mairy knew it was all fancy on her part, yet she remembered standing with the hound on the edge of the property where her Thom had last been and feeling bereft in his absence, and she sensed that Cait was letting the same feelings of longing and worry wash through her veins as well. 'Twas probably no more than the ramblings of a lonely wife sharing her days with a hound about to pup that brought on these odd shifts of mind. Surely that and the bond she had forged with Conn. My, how she missed that scraggy headed hound. She feared for him too. She knelt next to Cait and said a short prayer for the delivery of Thom, Conn and Coll, rubbing Cait's back before she rose to put a supper together.
She was tired, far too tired to make an effort to put together a real spread. With only herself and the hound to care for, it did not seem necessary to do much. She pulled out the couple of potatoes she had set aside the night before and quickly sliced and quartered them, putting them into her pot with a bit of fat and hefting it over to the fire. Returning to the kitchen she took up a banger and sliced it quickly, added a twice quartered onion and some garlic and took these to the pot. She watched as these began to brown and then added a bit of water, just enough to create a stew to serve herself and Cait. Then she busied herself making a flat of biscuits. It had been sometime and she knew the hounds enjoyed them. She could bank the fire and set them to baking after she took off the stew. Finally, she put the kettle on to boil. Her tea made, she curled into her chair and edged into the end of her book, sighing. She would have liked to share this with Conn. She looked down at Cait. She had curled nearly full in on herself, or as far as she could get with that enormous belly in the way. It was unlikely that Cait would be listening to the story this afternoon.
Mairy let herself slide into the story, let it wrap its arms around her and pull her in. It was why she loved to read. A good book built a place for you inside it and let you reside in the story, not as a character of your own, but in it nonetheless. Your part was to see and feel the story from all angles, to participate in it as fully as the characters themselves, letting its interior meanings take root in your own life and she fancied sometimes that you left your mark on the book as well. Your sensibilities, needs, ethics and reactions somehow touching the characters and plots, so that when and if you read it again, it would be just a shade different, having been touched by what you gave to it when you read it last. She laughed; if it was nonsense then it was hers, and no one else needed to know of it.
The stew was rich in the air, time to test its thickness and give it a good stir. She rose, taking the tea things to the kitchen and getting her towel and ladle. Turning back to the hearth she noticed abruptly that Cait had turned and her breathing was no longer deep, it was shallow and seemed troubled. She moved to the hound quickly. It was too early for her pups to be coming, though nothing about this seeding had proven normal so far. She had gained in size far too quickly, that much was certain. She checked the hound's eyes, they were glazed in pain and fear. This was Cait's first litter, so the fear seemed natural enough. She could only imagine the fear should she ever bear a child. It doesna' really help knowin' a thing, not when ye are faced with the sharp edge of it.
As Mairy slicked her hand down Cait's back, she could feel the life moving inside of her. She wasn't sure, but it certainly seemed like it might be the hound's time. She stood and checked the stew. Going back to the kitchen she brought out a bowl and a large pitcher of water. She spooned out some stew for herself and then added the water, turning the stew predominantly to broth. She didna know how long this would take, but she doubted there would be time for cookin' as they went. She went back to the cupboards and rummaged for her oldest clean linens and rags. Then she went to the hound and shifted her, made a nest for the mother-to-be and settled her back in front of the fire. All she could do now was wait and help as best she could as nature took its course. She lifted her book and tried to concentrate as the sounds of Cait's struggle to bring her pups into the world began to rise in the small space.
Coll and Conn caught the scent almost in unison. It was strong, rich and pumping with life. The musk almost over-powered all other scents, it was such a heady aroma. A stag, a very large stag one would assume based on the sheer volume and density of the scent trail, was theirs for the taking. The hounds caught each other's eye. The hunt was on. Despite the need to flee the area this hunt was an ingrained need. Their desire to find and bring down the stag overrode any instinct to continue their dash to safety. It overcame their caution when it came to getting caught by the hunter themselves. The stag had become a prize above all others and they would find it and bend it to their will, slake their thirst upon it. The saliva was already pooling in their maws. They could taste it, wet and full, ready to burst open with flavor, the stag's throat already a visceral, tangible thing in their teeth.
They scented the area together and then padded off silently. They were roughly twenty feet apart as they followed the urgency that thrummed through their veins.
Thom found himself watching the small red hound most intently. He worked his way through the woods, avoiding the briar and the bramble, passing as quietly as possible. They moved at a fairly rapid pace despite the hounds that were burdened with the extra drag of the meat-laden rigging. He kept looking for signs of Coll and Conn's passage, but he did not find any. He was relying solely on the forward movement of the pack, which seemed to be following a trail that the red had the best nose for. Thom's mind began to wander. He found himself thinking more and more about the comforts of home. He would be glad to be done with this hunt, to be buried in the heavy weather and set-in with Mairy for the duration. There in their little patch they could bide the time, just the two of them. A warm fire, a book in Mairy's lap and Thom in his chair. Aye, they would talk and Mairy would weave him a tale or two as the fire died down 'til it was time to be a-bed. His smile hovered on his face as he let himself muse over what he would find on his homecoming. The baying of hounds interrupted his reverie, bringing his head up short as he tried to discern why they might be raising the alarm. His heart quickened; perhaps his homecoming might be a bit more blessed after all. Unable to figure out precisely what was driving their racket, he picked up his pace, perhaps his luck had changed and they had actually sighted the two wayward members of the pack.
As they drove, the air in the car seemed to become thinner. With every mile they traversed their breath grew shorter, their lungs more restricted. It was as if the passage was siphoning off the oxygen in the car. Finally Roary could make it no farther and he pulled off at the nearest roundabout. He clambered out of the car panting for breath.
"It feels like something is sucking the air right out of me," gasped Lin as she joined him.
"Aye, 'tis not natural."
"Perhaps we should put everything in our packs good and tight and keep all the windows down?" inquired Fiona as she made her way to their side.
"I've been drivin' with the window down fer the last hour," grumbled Roary.
"I know, but if all the windows are opened then maybe that would help?"
"Well, we can't stay here. We have to get back, anything could be happening to the boys," stated Lin in desperation.
"Aye, or to the swans. If that wing has healed, they could be gone." Roary replied flatly.
Lin gasped. She had never even thought to consider that risk. "We have to go. We have to keep going."
She rushed back to the car. Taking a deep breath she got back in and stuffed anything that was loose into her pack. There wasn't much, a few bits of paper from their travels, one of her gloves, some pens. She tied the pack closed and rolled down her window. Fiona climbed in and cleared the back seat, then rolled down both windows. Roary simply lowered himself into the driver's seat with a long protracted sigh.
"May the saints preserve us and the fair folk lend us aid on our path," he imparted and then he started the car and swung back onto the roundabout and onward toward his home and their journey's end.
The sucking pull at their chests began almost immediately, yet somehow it was not as strong, not as binding upon them. It felt like a minor chest cold this time. They each fought it on their own, all prepared to press through - to reach the strand.
Cait was whimpering and shivering. Her coat was soaked with sweat. There was nothing about this birthing that was progressing normally. Mairy had had another cup of tea and managed to soothe Cait earlier in the day, even getting about a cup of broth into the struggling mother. Afterward, the she-hound had dozed for a bit, her legs jutting straight as the contractions hit her in her sleep, then relaxing. It looked oddly like she was jumping hedges in her dream. Then Mairy noticed a small trickle of blood. ' Twasn't much, but she had not expected the poor thing to bleed like that. She could see the pups turning through the thin skin veil of Cait's stomach. It looked as if they were jockeying for position. Mairy had leaned down to mop Cait's muzzle when the hound's eyes shot open. There she was almost eye to eye with her. The sudden full contact shocked her so much that she fell back onto her rump.
Then Cait began to breathe heavier and Mairy knew it was time. Her eyes were locked with the hound's and she could almost feel the blend of fear and expectation that rippled through her as she tried to push the new life from her heaving body. Mairy tore her gaze away from Cait's, stroking her side to move where she could check the birthing progress. The pup had crowned and was just inching its way into the world. Cait spasmed again, a sharp howl escaping her as the internal drive propelled her through another thrust. Mairy's eyes glazed with tears as the pup found its way into the world. It was a marvel. She did not remember ever seeing a newborn hound of such size. It could easily be mistaken for one as much as a month old. Her hands itched to reach for it, but she knew better than to touch it before it had been cleaned and suckled by its mother. Cait needed to claim it as her own.
They had tracked the stag. Standing downwind, they could see it through the branches of the large oak that covered them. In silence they separated, each circling for a better position from which to approach the attack. They did not have the benefit of the full pack to enable an easy cornering of their prey. They would need to work in careful tandem to bring him down. He was a glorious beast, easily two hands bigger than any they had tracked before, his full chest and round muscled rump clear measures of his strength. The two hounds let instinct guide them. Their jaws were already slack with saliva, more than ready to feel the depth of their bite into the magnificent stag's flesh as it surrendered to them.
Conn rushed the animal first, sending it careening off to the left, forcing Coll to race from his cover and block its effort to escape. The stag practically reared, double tapping its front hooves as it turned to bolt off to its right. Coll raced after it, knowing Conn would be moving in to block its path. The grey increased his pace, veering slightly to the side trying to gain a parallel path. The beast caught sight of Conn charging it and moved again, this time bolting along the line of the path Coll had taken. Coll could feel his muscles move to join with the singing in his veins as he began to close on the stag. His pace was quickening. His eyes locked onto the base of the animal's throat. He could feel the saliva thinning and sliding loosely from his maw. It was in this moment, the moment just before the strike, that he heard it. He heard Cait's sharp howl. His pace faltered. A brief image of Cait flickered in front of him erasing the stag. An image of Cait panting and heaving. His pups were coming. Then the rush of the hunt flooded him anew, fed by the rush of the vision. But the stag had turned again and his chance at its throat had passed.
The red was circling, the rest of the pack had set up the howl and were pawing the ground. Thom eyed the odd spectacle and then edged his way in to the red. On the ground was an area where the leafy debris had been disturbed and above on a bit of bramble a tiny tuft of blond fur was snagged. It seemed they had picked up the trail again. He gingerly plucked off the bit of fur and gave the red a good scent of it and a scratch behind the ears. Tucking the tuft in his jacket pocket he signaled the pack and they moved on. This time it felt less as if they were groping their way, more as if each hound had the scent. They spread out again, weaving in their typical pattern. He felt buoyant, almost jubilant. It seemed that he would be going home to Mairy with more than just meat for the larder, he would be bringing home Conn as well. The burden he had been carrying was no more heavy than the pack on his back, and that he knew how to shoulder well.
After a time, it became clear that the hounds were excited about more than just the scent of the two hounds they were tracking. They were following game as well. Thom only hoped it would not lead them off the track of Conn and Coll. This was one time where he truly did not care if they found the largest stag in the forest, he wanted the hounds back first. The red seemed focused though, and he held his hopes high as they padded silently through the dense woody area.
The hounds slowed and then stopped, leaning back on their haunches and cocking their heads to the side. Thom wandered up into the middle of the pack, listening with them. They stood there silently, until he picked up on it. The sound of hooves, not running in a direct path, but a cutting motion. Perhaps Coll and Conn were in the middle of a hunt. If so, they had a sizable beast on their hands. That could bode well for Thom, it might just give him the upper hand in surprising them and finding a way to bring them back under his wing.
The pull of the sea carried them over the crags and rocks and along the twisted turns of the cavern's entrance. Its echoing reverberations setting the tone of expectation higher by fractions with every step that carried them closer to their goal. Following the slit of the penlight that Roary carried, the trio moved into the cavern. Here the roar of the waves was reduced to the lapping of the gentle pool that fed the cavern. Lin remembered well how different the sea's face became when you moved out from this calm place and onto the ledge She flashed briefly on herself fishing for seaweed. Then the image became that of Sean disappearing over the top of the crag the day he found the brooch. She closed her eyes, wishing that that day had never come, that she had never brought her boys to this place at that time. She reached out and clasped Fiona's hand, Roary in turn reached out for hers. They moved down this way, connected, drawing strength from each other. Lin thought for a moment that if it were possible to move forward without stumbling, her mother and Roary might even have joined hands. It seemed odd, yet somehow incredibly normal, how much they were leaning on and toward each other now at the end of the journey. All this slipped through her mind in the fragment of time it took for their eyes to adjust to the light in the cavern.
The first thing she registered was how beautiful the little space truly was with the light reflecting in the water and the bits of shiny rock where the sea and sun met. Then the bile began to rise in the back of her throat as she realized that there was something very important missing from the lovely picture in front of her.
A soft almost mewing noise, as close to a ghostlike keening Roary had ever heard, rose up his spine. He realized it was coming from Fiona and let go of Lin's hand to circle round to her mother.
"Not here, " keened Fiona.
"Hush, we don't know for sure where the bird is just yet," said Roary.
Lin moved slowly down to the water's edge, "No, not here," she echoed Fiona's lament.
Mairy gaped in awe as Cait continued to struggle with the forces of nature. The form of another pup writhed inside her and pressed for relief. A paw slipped into view. "Och, no lass, this is no the way a pup should come into the world." Mairy pressed on Cait and pushed the paw back in. She moved quickly then to wash her hands and gather more linen. By the time she had returned Cait had gone to shivering and whimpering. Mairy bent down to lock eyes with her. "We'll have none of that, Miss Cait. Ye are going to take care of yer fine young pups, not me."
With determination, Mairy moved between Cait's hind legs. The second pup must have torn something when it thrust through with its paw as Cait's blood was drenching the birthing bed. Mairy retrieved the cooled kettle from the kitchen. It would be better warmed but at least it was clean water. She knelt again and cleaned what she could of the blood away, enough to try and see what she was going to try to do. She shoved her sleeves up, then gave up and stood, stripping down to her shift as fast as possible. Her arm clear now, she sluiced Cait down again and with a whispered prayer slowly eased her hand into the birthing canal with the pup. She felt around gingerly and finding no obstruction she could name she gathered the legs together and began to pull. Cait seized and the blood began to flow in earnest. "Och no, he canna come this way then can he?" Mairy felt again. She had never tried to do anything close to what she was considering. But she had to try. The pup's legs were all that were really loose so far. She reached in with both arms. Slick now with blood, she began to try to thread him back. The pup kicked a bit but gradually he returned to the womb. Then she let one hand follow him in and prayed she had it in her. Groping blindly she felt along the pup's body from the inside, then she used her other hand to feel its outline from the outside. A cool breeze swept across her as she found the head and gently began to massage it round, trying to keep track of the paws as she did so. Finally, she prayed it was the head at the entrance to the world and pressed down on Cait trying to help her deliver. Every thrust came with more blood. "I canna lose ye, girl. Deliver the pup so I can try to take care of ye," crooned Mairy. Soon the litany, "Deliver the pup" was blended with the whimpers and howls of the hound as she struggled to complete this task.
The Stag had reared away from Coll and begun to run in what appeared to be a clear path out of danger. Its sense of relief was palpable. The grey had faltered and the menacing blond was nowhere in sight. It raced for freedom and for its life. An opening through the trees perhaps ten feet ahead. Once there it would be able to block its pursuers with the grace of the trees and be gone, be safe. Conn reeled for a moment at the loss. He had been certain that Coll had the death strike, then suddenly the stag was free and out of their box. His pause almost lost them the chase as much as Coll's falter lost them the kill. Then he adjusted. He would have this prize. He moved off to the left of the bolting stag, staying just out of its range of vision. He pressed his speed and circled, noting that Coll had done the same. They would cut it off just before it reached the trees. He felt incredibly powerful, the blood-lust spurring him on to greater strength. Every muscle in his powerful body met his urge and he flew across the ground gaining ground, knowing that there was no escape for his intended victim. He felt more alive then he ever had before.
The stag was there, just steps from breaking free, from escaping the trap. He had not lived this long to be brought down so ingloriously. He was better than these two hounds, he was a king of his realm, he wore a crown of victory. His breast was beating with the knowledge that he had won this battle when he caught the movement of a grey shadow from the left. He moved swiftly to the right. He could still make it out, the grey would not be able to catch him. As he moved he just managed to make out the blur of the blond hound moving in on him. He ducked his head down as the blond leapt at him. Conn felt the tip of the antler as it ripped across the paw that had already been injured, but he barely noticed the pain as he rolled from the ground and leapt to strike. His jaws wide, the stag's throat exposed perfectly as he came from underneath. He could feel his teeth begin to sink in as his front claws raked its hide.
"No, not here."
The way she said it was enough to draw the others to the mouth of the cavern. The plaintive hue at the edge of her voice carried a message that sent a feeling of loss into them. They edged together to peer out onto the shallow waves. What they saw sent their hearts plummeting. All three swans rocked together on the sea, their wings interlocked, heads intertwined as if sleeping in a muted embrace.
"Are we too late?" whispered Lin in pale anguish.
"Not while they are still here," answered Fiona.
"But how can I bind them out there?"
"Can we get them to come to us?" Fiona's voice cracked as she asked, her fear so tangible that each felt its weight.
"Seems doubtful that they'd come to land. I don't think I've ever seen the other two inside the cavern," replied Roary.
They stood for a moment. "They are so far out. I have no idea how deep it is where they are, but I have to try to go to them," stated Lin with resolution in her voice.
Lin turned and strode back to the small ledge where once, in a time that seemed like another life, she had divided her cheese and bread while hiding out from a storm. She opened the pack and unwound the two silks that she bore. She began to tie them together. Roary stepped in and took them from her using what skill he had to tie them into tighter knots. He turned to Fiona, hand extended, and she pulled the indigo silk from her pocket. She gave it a final deep inhale and a kiss and then handed it over, her hand crushing hard on the smooth stone in her pocket. She did not seem to notice the tears that flowed down her cheeks. He tied the last scarf firmly to the others, crimson to amber, amber to indigo, pulling at the lengths to test the strength of his efforts. Finally satisfied, he returned them to Lin. She wound them loop over loop around her neck and then took out the brooch, searching for a pocket that would be safe and yet easy to reach in the cold sea. Finally she held it in her hand, "I'm ready."
"Yer not going out in that tow by yerself."
"There is no choice. Aiofe set the geasa on me. I have to finish this if we are to get the boys back."
"Aye, but I'll see that you get there at least."
"We both will."
"But I don't want you at risk too," whined Lin.
"You don't have much choice," snapped Fiona. "We are doing this together, as far as we can."
They linked hands then and waded into the sea, Lin holding on to Roary, Roary holding onto Fiona. They walked out as far as they could, stretching their arms and bracing themselves, realizing finally that the sea was actually calm in the little cove of the cavern. Lin turned and smiled, "It's time." She put the brooch in her mouth, knowing she would need both hands to wind the scarf, and stepped out to walk the last few paces to the swans who had yet to have noticed their arrival. The ground under her feet was pebbled but not difficult to manage. Roary and Fiona moved to stand together, hands still clasped.
Lin took a deep breath and stepped forward, her confidence growing. She moved again. As she took the third step, she heard rather than saw the huge wave that cast itself up as if from nowhere and moved to engulf her. One moment the sea was a tranquil ally and the next she was beneath it in a roiling coil that sucked at her clothes and pulled at her hair. It was as if the sea had hands that were tugging solely at her. The tow caught at the silk about her neck and began to pull. Her throat was caught in its vise-like grip. She pressed against the pull but it only made the silk grip tighter. In desperation she pulled on the other end, beginning to unravel it from her neck. The pulse of the waves pulling at her seemed to increase as the silk began to come free. Frantically she rapped it round her hand, one of Roary's knots held in her palm. The water battered her now, the pin in her mouth pricking her cheeks and her tongue as it it sought release. The need to breathe was almost unbearable, the urge to open her mouth immense. But she knew she would gain only seawater and likely lose the brooch. She would not lose the silk or the brooch.
Roary and Fiona watched the wave take Lin down. They moved in tandem, each attempting to dive in and each holding the other back. It was no natural wave and they would not be able to reach her. This was Lin's battle. They stood locked in a battle with themselves as they waited for Lin to surface.
Lin pulled at the silk, kicking in the direction of the pulling waves. She cursed at the malefactor who was trying to prevent her from finishing her task. Finally when she thought she would perish she simply cried the names of her boys and hugged what she could of the silk to her, ready to breathe her last with their names on her lips. Surrendering, she found herself callously tossed against the craggy edge of the cavern. She used her free hand to pull herself shoulder high above the waves and breathe. Taking sight of where she was, she pressed on. Hand over hand she pulled herself along the crags and to the swans. When she was but a handspan away, one lone neck rose and a black eye greeted her. She would have known that eye anywhere. She hummed the tune she had learned so long ago under her breath and the other necks slowly rose in greeting.
She moved to the swans and they held her gaze. Taking the sea-drenched silks, she began to weave them around the graceful necks. There was just enough silk to create three full interlocking loops. Then she steadied herself and pulled the bloodied brooch from her mouth. She looked each swan in the eye and they back at hers. "I do so hope this truly heals you and brings you back any joy you have lost." There were tears coursing down Lin's cheeks as she bent to place the pin into the silks and bind the swans together.
The pup slid into the world as if he had never caused a bit of problem. Cait, still bleeding as she was, eagerly moved to clean and nudge her pups to suckle. Mairy in the meantime was hard pressed to figure out what to do to stop the young she-hound from bleeding-out and leaving her new family without a mother. She used the water to clean her up and gently apologized to the hound as she reached inside again. She found the tear easily enough, the second pup had dug a trench in its mother's birth canal and the opening as it tried to paw its way out of her. Mairy went for her sutures. She would be sewing blind, but better that than trying to cauterize it. She worried that Cait would not let her do the work, painful as it would likely be and as unnatural as it would seem. But the she-hound just gave her a soulful look from those liquid eyes of hers and continued to lathe her pups.
By the time Mairy had completed her surgery, such as it was, and had cleaned up both the mother and herself, the two pups were sated and settled. She marveled again at the size of them. And then it struck her, these truly were no ordinary hounds. Ye would not normally know so early on what the coloring of a hound would be, they came into that given time - sometimes hours, sometimes days. But these two, they were clearly a blond and a grey, miniature twins for Conn and Coll. Mairy poured herself a nip of whiskey and sat on the floor beside the new family, renewed by the birth and somehow saddened. For it seemed to her that these two pups were almost proof that they would never see the larger pair again.
Thom came upon the clearing just as Conn made the leap. He saw the stag's horn tear the hound's paw. He could see Coll moving in to leap onto its hindquarters and pin it down. Then he saw the grey cock its head to the side, as it for a moment it was no longer thinking of the hunt. The stag was turning back to Conn. If the hound did not execute a perfect strike, or Coll did not give it something to think about by pinning it down, the stag would be in a position to lock its horns into the blond's chest.
Thom pulled up the rifle, loaded it quickly and aimed. He knew his shot was dangerous, that if he was off aim, he could just as easily take down Conn. But he was not in the right position to have a certain death shot to the heart, so he shot for the brain. Too low and it could be Conn. He steadied his aim and fired, his prayer flowing out as the gun retorted.
Lin let the pin slip through the silk and stepped back. At first she was disappointed, all she saw were three lovely birds looking rather silly dressed in the wet silks that draped around them in looping colored waves. But then the sea began to rise. Not like the wave that had taken her down, more a thin curtain of colors that slowly formed itself into a man. As the form took shape, it moved from a man made mostly of seaweeds and coral to an old man infirm and bent, then finally the form that stayed with them - a younger man with a mane of dark curling hair and deep sea-blue eyes. Next to him was the gossamer form of Aiofe, her dress a swirl of shifting color, crimson, amber, indigo and emerald, beautiful but insubstantial. The swans saw the man and lifted their voices. The beautiful voices from her night in the cavern. As they sang, they lifted from the water, the silks unfolding to drape over them. Their wings spread wide and throats extended, the surreal beauty of their voices provided the perfect foil for their metamorphosis as the feather-tipped wings gave way to finger-tipped arms and the long white necks were thickened and the slender birds' heads replaced by the children's faces. They simply seemed to unfold from within the swans' forms and into themselves, finally settling to stand in the water, their arms wrapped around one another, voices still raised in song. Their father's arms outstretched as he surged forward to them, Aiofe still hovering insubstantially at the edge. Her eyes pooled with tears. He turned briefly and took her hand, then continued his surge toward the children. They stood in a full embrace. It was a moment that really cannot be captured in words. It was pristine in its innocence. Then they all just seemed to break apart - to come undone, like little bits of gem-stone colored sea spray, even Aiofe, until all that was left was the sound of the waves in the cavern, the glint of the sun on the sea and trio who stood there, eyes full of wonder and tears.
Just before the scene faded, they caught each other's eye and left the vision of sea-spray confetti to rush toward the cavern's exit and hopefully the boys.
Friday, December 16, 2011
Participles and Portents (74)
Unwinding the Wind
Morning came quickly. It did not sneak in. It was certainly no cunning thief slipping the night away from them. It was more like a mugger that suddenly was upon them, brash and bold and forceful in its demands. Though the light had barely broken, they felt its urgent press, the need to move as sharp as the unseen mugger's knife resting at each of their necks. They packed quickly and quietly. The only words came when Fiona refused to hand the indigo scarf over to Lin for keeping with the others. She assured Lin that it was what they had sought, but she would not be parted from it.
Roary loaded the packs into the car as Lin made coffee and poured the steaming brew into the paper cups that had been set out for them. She poured an extra one, thinking that whoever needed it most would have a bit more on the road. Fiona's was black and strong, just the way she liked it. She added honey and milk to Roary's and raw sugar and milk to her own. She looked about and found some dry creamer put two packets in her pocket and added two of the raw sugar packets. It might not be exactly the way he liked it, but it would do. She carried the bagged breakfasts out to the car and then went back for the coffee. Fiona had two of the cups in hand, both black, and seemed to be in good spirits. Lin slipped in to get the last two.
Roary was in the kitchen sipping on his. He put down the cup when he saw her and let a grin slowly spread over his face. The obnoxious opening pace of the day broke, shattered into little fragments of light in that simple gesture. Lin lifted her cup in a quick toast and then slid in for a hug, resting her head on his chest. How had it come so fast, this feeling like this was natural, she wondered? "The road calls," she mouthed into his shirt. "Aye, that it does, and we should be on it," he rumbled back. She turned in his arms and they strode from the bed and breakfast linked together. Roary leaned back with his free hand and closed the door behind him, then pulled Lin back snug against him as they walked the rest of the way to the car. Fiona leaned there, drinking from one cup, the other resting on the roof of the car. She took in the look of them together, smiled, and turned to climb in.
"It would appear that yer mother has not a problem with the two of us."
Lin pulled away just a bit. "Perhaps, or maybe she is stll caught up in whatever happened yesterday. I just am not really sure how in the moment she is right now. I mean I know she is aware of the need to get back and everything, but something really happened, something that really touched her."
"I ken what you mean, I can see she's distracted. But I think perhaps she is happy in some new way as well."
They exchanged a long glance and got into the car. "Ready?" asked Roary.
Without wating for an answer, he started the engine and set off toward where they had started, and where they all hoped their journey would find the ending they truly sought. Soon the bed and breakfast was lost behind them, the road became a ribbon of grey unwinding in the steady wind of their passage home.
Morning came quickly. It did not sneak in. It was certainly no cunning thief slipping the night away from them. It was more like a mugger that suddenly was upon them, brash and bold and forceful in its demands. Though the light had barely broken, they felt its urgent press, the need to move as sharp as the unseen mugger's knife resting at each of their necks. They packed quickly and quietly. The only words came when Fiona refused to hand the indigo scarf over to Lin for keeping with the others. She assured Lin that it was what they had sought, but she would not be parted from it.
Roary loaded the packs into the car as Lin made coffee and poured the steaming brew into the paper cups that had been set out for them. She poured an extra one, thinking that whoever needed it most would have a bit more on the road. Fiona's was black and strong, just the way she liked it. She added honey and milk to Roary's and raw sugar and milk to her own. She looked about and found some dry creamer put two packets in her pocket and added two of the raw sugar packets. It might not be exactly the way he liked it, but it would do. She carried the bagged breakfasts out to the car and then went back for the coffee. Fiona had two of the cups in hand, both black, and seemed to be in good spirits. Lin slipped in to get the last two.
Roary was in the kitchen sipping on his. He put down the cup when he saw her and let a grin slowly spread over his face. The obnoxious opening pace of the day broke, shattered into little fragments of light in that simple gesture. Lin lifted her cup in a quick toast and then slid in for a hug, resting her head on his chest. How had it come so fast, this feeling like this was natural, she wondered? "The road calls," she mouthed into his shirt. "Aye, that it does, and we should be on it," he rumbled back. She turned in his arms and they strode from the bed and breakfast linked together. Roary leaned back with his free hand and closed the door behind him, then pulled Lin back snug against him as they walked the rest of the way to the car. Fiona leaned there, drinking from one cup, the other resting on the roof of the car. She took in the look of them together, smiled, and turned to climb in.
"It would appear that yer mother has not a problem with the two of us."
Lin pulled away just a bit. "Perhaps, or maybe she is stll caught up in whatever happened yesterday. I just am not really sure how in the moment she is right now. I mean I know she is aware of the need to get back and everything, but something really happened, something that really touched her."
"I ken what you mean, I can see she's distracted. But I think perhaps she is happy in some new way as well."
They exchanged a long glance and got into the car. "Ready?" asked Roary.
Without wating for an answer, he started the engine and set off toward where they had started, and where they all hoped their journey would find the ending they truly sought. Soon the bed and breakfast was lost behind them, the road became a ribbon of grey unwinding in the steady wind of their passage home.
Participles and Portents (73)
Roads, Rains and Veils
They found her on the ground, her hair wet from the dampness in the air, cheeks reddened from the streaks of tears that still left tracks down to her chin. She sat as limp as a rag doll, legs extended, head down arms curved into her lap. It was only as she slowly moved her face to find the source of their voices that they noticed the ravages of her time alone. For all the joy that they had found in their moments alone, Lin felt a doubling of guilt that her mother was so distraught. It caught in her belly and moved upward into her throat. She found there were no words tripping to her tongue, only her body tripping over itself, as she made her way to her mother's side.
Roary, usually so assured when it came to helping in moments of distress, was unusually reserved. How to go to Fiona, who looked so oddly broken, when he himself felt somehow so completely restored? He felt he radiated his redemption, his completeness, and somehow he just couldna' bring himself to move to her side. In the end it was Lin that helped her up, Roary offering his coat for added warmth, and the trio making its way back to the car. They shivered despite the fact the cloud seemed to have finally lifted and made way for a bit of fragile light to end the day in a rather spectacular sunset over the green of Tara. As they mounted the crest they paused, each of them taken by the glory of the view. It seemed no matter what the turmoil of their minds or hearts, the land echoed its message so spectacularly that it would not be denied its moment of splendor. As the sunset moved on, so did they, scuttling together, like the small things they were compared to the stature of Tara, and made it to their vehicle.
They tucked Fiona in and made their way to the bed and breakfast, all this and still no words had been exchanged. Lin tucked her hand under Roary's as he shifted the gears and he felt the warmth rebuild in his body, all initiating from that small spot of contact. Aye, he felt so much more himself, much more beyond himself in truth than he had that morning. He gave her hand a slight squeeze and allowed himself a slow grin. The atmosphere in the car might be charged with the grimness of Fiona's dazed silence, but the woman had strength, and somehow this sense of renewal was just too good to let go of. Lin smiled softly at him, and he knew she was riding the current with him. They would get Fiona to the bed and breakfast, and they would help her out of the shell she was in and move through what was necessary together. Together -- now that was a fine, brau word. He would have to teach Lin a bit more of his native language. Sean had said she wanted to know it. He smiled again and pulled into the lot.
Together they helped Fiona out and bustled her into the small house. A bit of rummaging and they were able to come up with a pot of tea and a nip of whiskey to warm them after their day. Lin had managed to finagle Fiona out of her jacket, but her mother would not let go of what she held in her hand. From the curl that draped out, Lin had a very strong feeling that the last of the silks had been found, but Fiona was not about to let go of her prize and she simply was not speaking or making eye contact at the moment. Oddly, she wasn't really worried about her mom. For some reason she seemed to be fine, just caught up in a moment that was only hers, and Lin could respect that. There were certainly times when what you were feeling was something that was best held inside yourself, tucked safely into the corners of your heart where it could not escape. Those moments were almost always a sadness or a joy, or bizarrely, a heightened combination of the two, that so completely filled you up there was no room for words or discussion. And if that is where her mother was, then she knew she would not want to share just now, or perhaps ever, because sharing might break the fullness of the feeling and that loss was too high a price to pay simply to try and capture the feeling with words.
Lin set a cup of steaming tea next to her mother's silent and rapt visage and moved to sit with Roary on the settee. There would be time enough to talk if her mother wanted to share. For now she and Roary could plan the fastest path back, assuming Fiona held what they thought she did. They would need to leave as soon as possible. An early night, perhaps leaving at daybreak.
Lin moved in closer to Roary, enjoying the comfort in knowing that there was not longer any reason to sit apart, and rested her head on his shoulder, her tea cup held one-handed on her knee. They talked in hushed-tones, waiting for Fiona to join yet trying not to interrupt her at the same time. It seemed as if the time passed in an instant and the tea went cold on its own. She hugged Fiona on the way to the kitchen, where they found their host and asked if they might have breakfast laid out so that they could leave at dawn. Having assured the man that they did not want him to rise when they did to lay out a full Irish spread, it was agreed that they would have access to the kitchen to make tea or coffee, some travel cups and three sack breaksfasts with buns, cheeses and fruits. Not a real breakfast as far as their host was concerned, but as they seemed happy with the outcome, he simply hoisted his shoulders in a salute to their oddity and continued on to finish his dinner preparations.
Fiona had left the parlor when they returned. Lin found her upstairs in their room, lying on the bed. She could see now that her mother definitely held an indigo silk in her hands and something else. She was definitely clutching something else, but Lin could not make out what it was. She just knew that there had to be something else that Fiona was grasping with such firmness. "Will you be coming down for supper?" Lin asked.
"I think the tea will hold me. I'll be fine as I am. You have a lovely night," replied Fiona, a wisp of a smile on her face.
She knows, thought Lin. She knows that things have changed with Roary. I didn't think she had noticed anything, but she knows. Lin smiled back, "We'll do our best, but it won't be the same without you there. I'll bring you up something for later just in case." She turned to slip out the door; looking back she could see the smile hovering on her mother's face as she lifted the silk to her cheek.
"I love you to infinity and beyond," Lin whispered.
"Love you too," came the faint reply as she closed the door. She leaned against the jamb and wondered briefly if her mother had been replying to her. She took a deep breath. Whatever had transpired to leave Fiona with the silk, it had obviously touched her deeply. Lin thought back to the day of the crimson silk. Perhaps her mother had been talking to more than just her daughter. Sranger things had been known to happen. Her smile continued to deepen as she made her way down to dinner and to Roary.
They found her on the ground, her hair wet from the dampness in the air, cheeks reddened from the streaks of tears that still left tracks down to her chin. She sat as limp as a rag doll, legs extended, head down arms curved into her lap. It was only as she slowly moved her face to find the source of their voices that they noticed the ravages of her time alone. For all the joy that they had found in their moments alone, Lin felt a doubling of guilt that her mother was so distraught. It caught in her belly and moved upward into her throat. She found there were no words tripping to her tongue, only her body tripping over itself, as she made her way to her mother's side.
Roary, usually so assured when it came to helping in moments of distress, was unusually reserved. How to go to Fiona, who looked so oddly broken, when he himself felt somehow so completely restored? He felt he radiated his redemption, his completeness, and somehow he just couldna' bring himself to move to her side. In the end it was Lin that helped her up, Roary offering his coat for added warmth, and the trio making its way back to the car. They shivered despite the fact the cloud seemed to have finally lifted and made way for a bit of fragile light to end the day in a rather spectacular sunset over the green of Tara. As they mounted the crest they paused, each of them taken by the glory of the view. It seemed no matter what the turmoil of their minds or hearts, the land echoed its message so spectacularly that it would not be denied its moment of splendor. As the sunset moved on, so did they, scuttling together, like the small things they were compared to the stature of Tara, and made it to their vehicle.
They tucked Fiona in and made their way to the bed and breakfast, all this and still no words had been exchanged. Lin tucked her hand under Roary's as he shifted the gears and he felt the warmth rebuild in his body, all initiating from that small spot of contact. Aye, he felt so much more himself, much more beyond himself in truth than he had that morning. He gave her hand a slight squeeze and allowed himself a slow grin. The atmosphere in the car might be charged with the grimness of Fiona's dazed silence, but the woman had strength, and somehow this sense of renewal was just too good to let go of. Lin smiled softly at him, and he knew she was riding the current with him. They would get Fiona to the bed and breakfast, and they would help her out of the shell she was in and move through what was necessary together. Together -- now that was a fine, brau word. He would have to teach Lin a bit more of his native language. Sean had said she wanted to know it. He smiled again and pulled into the lot.
Together they helped Fiona out and bustled her into the small house. A bit of rummaging and they were able to come up with a pot of tea and a nip of whiskey to warm them after their day. Lin had managed to finagle Fiona out of her jacket, but her mother would not let go of what she held in her hand. From the curl that draped out, Lin had a very strong feeling that the last of the silks had been found, but Fiona was not about to let go of her prize and she simply was not speaking or making eye contact at the moment. Oddly, she wasn't really worried about her mom. For some reason she seemed to be fine, just caught up in a moment that was only hers, and Lin could respect that. There were certainly times when what you were feeling was something that was best held inside yourself, tucked safely into the corners of your heart where it could not escape. Those moments were almost always a sadness or a joy, or bizarrely, a heightened combination of the two, that so completely filled you up there was no room for words or discussion. And if that is where her mother was, then she knew she would not want to share just now, or perhaps ever, because sharing might break the fullness of the feeling and that loss was too high a price to pay simply to try and capture the feeling with words.
Lin set a cup of steaming tea next to her mother's silent and rapt visage and moved to sit with Roary on the settee. There would be time enough to talk if her mother wanted to share. For now she and Roary could plan the fastest path back, assuming Fiona held what they thought she did. They would need to leave as soon as possible. An early night, perhaps leaving at daybreak.
Lin moved in closer to Roary, enjoying the comfort in knowing that there was not longer any reason to sit apart, and rested her head on his shoulder, her tea cup held one-handed on her knee. They talked in hushed-tones, waiting for Fiona to join yet trying not to interrupt her at the same time. It seemed as if the time passed in an instant and the tea went cold on its own. She hugged Fiona on the way to the kitchen, where they found their host and asked if they might have breakfast laid out so that they could leave at dawn. Having assured the man that they did not want him to rise when they did to lay out a full Irish spread, it was agreed that they would have access to the kitchen to make tea or coffee, some travel cups and three sack breaksfasts with buns, cheeses and fruits. Not a real breakfast as far as their host was concerned, but as they seemed happy with the outcome, he simply hoisted his shoulders in a salute to their oddity and continued on to finish his dinner preparations.
Fiona had left the parlor when they returned. Lin found her upstairs in their room, lying on the bed. She could see now that her mother definitely held an indigo silk in her hands and something else. She was definitely clutching something else, but Lin could not make out what it was. She just knew that there had to be something else that Fiona was grasping with such firmness. "Will you be coming down for supper?" Lin asked.
"I think the tea will hold me. I'll be fine as I am. You have a lovely night," replied Fiona, a wisp of a smile on her face.
She knows, thought Lin. She knows that things have changed with Roary. I didn't think she had noticed anything, but she knows. Lin smiled back, "We'll do our best, but it won't be the same without you there. I'll bring you up something for later just in case." She turned to slip out the door; looking back she could see the smile hovering on her mother's face as she lifted the silk to her cheek.
"I love you to infinity and beyond," Lin whispered.
"Love you too," came the faint reply as she closed the door. She leaned against the jamb and wondered briefly if her mother had been replying to her. She took a deep breath. Whatever had transpired to leave Fiona with the silk, it had obviously touched her deeply. Lin thought back to the day of the crimson silk. Perhaps her mother had been talking to more than just her daughter. Sranger things had been known to happen. Her smile continued to deepen as she made her way down to dinner and to Roary.
Monday, November 28, 2011
Participles and Portents (72)
Dust and Smiles
Thom was aggravated by the pack's lack of progress in finding a trail to follow. The rains had washed clear much chance they might have had of finding any tracks and the scents were apparently just as muddied. The hounds had taken to weaving in and out amongst the foliage, and the occasional bay between them only served to set his teeth on edge. He knew that if they did not find something in the next hour or so it would be time to call them all in as there was literally no chance they would find the two hounds he sought, given the time that had elapsed since he had taken the fresh meat on. He pulled off his hat, gripping the brim with his thumb and forefinger, and slicked his hand through his hair. Mairy, he thought. He could see her face rising up in front of his. Her beautiful smile, those trusting eyes. It was those eyes that would break him when they went from his face to the door behind him and saw nothing. He could see her now, her eyes traveling from joy in seeing him, to the empty door frame behind him, and back to his eyes, where the truth would be written. Conn was not coming home. Would it crush her? How attached had she become? He feared that she had come to love the hound as much as a child. He wiped his hand across his eyes to still the wet that was gathering there. It was a time for action. He would deal with sentiment later, if and when he had to. For now, there was still a small chance that he might not have to see her face crumble before him. He slapped his hat back on his head and broke into a long stride. He certainly intended to do everything he could to avoid hurting her.
As the day lagged on, his spirit waned. He was going to have to turn for home, but he hated the idea of it. Not going home, just giong home under these circumstances. Well, perhaps he might take down another good size deer on the way. Her heart might be empty but her stomach did not need to be, and perhaps come the spring she would be singing. His Mairy did not stay down for long. He smiled with that thought gripped hard in his mind and whistled to the hounds, turning with purpose on the path. It was time to head toward home.
They had been traveling for nigh on a half of an hour when the smallest of the pack broke and ran off to the right, silent as a whisper, but straight and sure. The other hounds stopped dead, sniffing the air, then began to spread out a bit. There must be a strong scent in the wind for them to be acting this way, mused the hunter. The pack circled out from him, fanning in an arc and moving off in the direction his smallest had gone. He waited for a signal from them, testing his patience on the path. Then he saw the nose of the small one break just ahead of him around the curve of a large oak. The hound turned in a circle, looked at him again, and circled once more. It appeared that he had been invited to the party. So be it, he smiled grimly and began to close in on the path. It was harder for him to travel as silently as the hounds, but he had practice and he found himself moving almost as quietly, close enough to be mistaken for wind in the boughs.
He followed the small reddish hide for what seemed an eternity, though it could not have been that long. He certainly had not waited that long on the path, or had he? Then he noticed a small bit of grey fur tangled on a bit of briar. It could have been one of the pack he traveled with, had they not all arced away from the small red's path. He plucked it from the briar gently, careful not to prick himself on the thorns. It was hound hide, wiry and soft all at the same time. He wondered at the possibility that this could be Coll's. Was it the right height? He eyed the bush. It seemed the spot where he had found the tiny sample was about the right height for the grey's haunch. Yes, it was possible. He could feel his pulse begin to quicken. Could it be that they were on the track again? Was there anyway for him to know for sure? He could only rely on the hounds for guidance.
He called out to the red, but he kept moving forward, some destination in mind. Thom followed, suddenly much lighter in step. Clearing the foil of briar bushes, he found himself near a very small slit of creek. A lone oak grew there, as if the creek sprouted from it. Along the base of the tree, just opposite the small jagged line of water, the leaves were crushed and rumpled. Some bones, recently chewed were splayed on the ground. The rest of the pack was circling in, and as they approached, they began to sniff and whimper, but they did not actually approach the spot full on. The red came back to Thom and sat at his feet. The warm liquid eyes looked up at him, then he gave one short almost quiet yip of a bay. They had done it, found the trail.
Thom's relief flooded him. His knees were actually weak. He scratched the hound between the ears and dug out a bit of biscuit from the sack at his hip. He did not usually give the hounds his own food, but this was worthy of a grander gesture. He fed the hound from the palm of his hand, enjoying the slip of the slightly rough tongue on his skin. Wiping his hand on his trousers, he moved to the rest of the pack. "Aye then, so we've a mite more to do here then. Find them for Mairy for me," he spoke low and even, catching them each with his eyes. Then he stood and waited, waited and watched as they each took a turn snooting through the leaves and the bones before they turned and went off in their weaving pattern to search for the hounds that had vanished and the promise of his wife's smile.
Thom was aggravated by the pack's lack of progress in finding a trail to follow. The rains had washed clear much chance they might have had of finding any tracks and the scents were apparently just as muddied. The hounds had taken to weaving in and out amongst the foliage, and the occasional bay between them only served to set his teeth on edge. He knew that if they did not find something in the next hour or so it would be time to call them all in as there was literally no chance they would find the two hounds he sought, given the time that had elapsed since he had taken the fresh meat on. He pulled off his hat, gripping the brim with his thumb and forefinger, and slicked his hand through his hair. Mairy, he thought. He could see her face rising up in front of his. Her beautiful smile, those trusting eyes. It was those eyes that would break him when they went from his face to the door behind him and saw nothing. He could see her now, her eyes traveling from joy in seeing him, to the empty door frame behind him, and back to his eyes, where the truth would be written. Conn was not coming home. Would it crush her? How attached had she become? He feared that she had come to love the hound as much as a child. He wiped his hand across his eyes to still the wet that was gathering there. It was a time for action. He would deal with sentiment later, if and when he had to. For now, there was still a small chance that he might not have to see her face crumble before him. He slapped his hat back on his head and broke into a long stride. He certainly intended to do everything he could to avoid hurting her.
As the day lagged on, his spirit waned. He was going to have to turn for home, but he hated the idea of it. Not going home, just giong home under these circumstances. Well, perhaps he might take down another good size deer on the way. Her heart might be empty but her stomach did not need to be, and perhaps come the spring she would be singing. His Mairy did not stay down for long. He smiled with that thought gripped hard in his mind and whistled to the hounds, turning with purpose on the path. It was time to head toward home.
They had been traveling for nigh on a half of an hour when the smallest of the pack broke and ran off to the right, silent as a whisper, but straight and sure. The other hounds stopped dead, sniffing the air, then began to spread out a bit. There must be a strong scent in the wind for them to be acting this way, mused the hunter. The pack circled out from him, fanning in an arc and moving off in the direction his smallest had gone. He waited for a signal from them, testing his patience on the path. Then he saw the nose of the small one break just ahead of him around the curve of a large oak. The hound turned in a circle, looked at him again, and circled once more. It appeared that he had been invited to the party. So be it, he smiled grimly and began to close in on the path. It was harder for him to travel as silently as the hounds, but he had practice and he found himself moving almost as quietly, close enough to be mistaken for wind in the boughs.
He followed the small reddish hide for what seemed an eternity, though it could not have been that long. He certainly had not waited that long on the path, or had he? Then he noticed a small bit of grey fur tangled on a bit of briar. It could have been one of the pack he traveled with, had they not all arced away from the small red's path. He plucked it from the briar gently, careful not to prick himself on the thorns. It was hound hide, wiry and soft all at the same time. He wondered at the possibility that this could be Coll's. Was it the right height? He eyed the bush. It seemed the spot where he had found the tiny sample was about the right height for the grey's haunch. Yes, it was possible. He could feel his pulse begin to quicken. Could it be that they were on the track again? Was there anyway for him to know for sure? He could only rely on the hounds for guidance.
He called out to the red, but he kept moving forward, some destination in mind. Thom followed, suddenly much lighter in step. Clearing the foil of briar bushes, he found himself near a very small slit of creek. A lone oak grew there, as if the creek sprouted from it. Along the base of the tree, just opposite the small jagged line of water, the leaves were crushed and rumpled. Some bones, recently chewed were splayed on the ground. The rest of the pack was circling in, and as they approached, they began to sniff and whimper, but they did not actually approach the spot full on. The red came back to Thom and sat at his feet. The warm liquid eyes looked up at him, then he gave one short almost quiet yip of a bay. They had done it, found the trail.
Thom's relief flooded him. His knees were actually weak. He scratched the hound between the ears and dug out a bit of biscuit from the sack at his hip. He did not usually give the hounds his own food, but this was worthy of a grander gesture. He fed the hound from the palm of his hand, enjoying the slip of the slightly rough tongue on his skin. Wiping his hand on his trousers, he moved to the rest of the pack. "Aye then, so we've a mite more to do here then. Find them for Mairy for me," he spoke low and even, catching them each with his eyes. Then he stood and waited, waited and watched as they each took a turn snooting through the leaves and the bones before they turned and went off in their weaving pattern to search for the hounds that had vanished and the promise of his wife's smile.
Saturday, November 26, 2011
Participles and Portents (71)
Sky and Stones
Fiona studied the map that she had of the area. The hill of Tara, apparently from the earliest period of which there was history, had long been the celebrated seat of the Irish Kings. After the death of Dermot, the son of Fergus, the seat had been deserted, having been said to be cursed on a pronouncement of Saint Ruadan of Lorha against Dermot and his palace. After all this time, the elements of the city, which at that time would have been considered remarkable, could still be distinctly traced. They consisted for the most part of circular or oval enclosures or mounds, within or upon which the city had stood. The names by which the various areas were presently known according to the Ordnance Survey map laid down by Dr. Petrie and J. O'Donovan Esquire were based on ancient documents. The primary Rath, called Rath Righ, was apparently now nearly level with the ground. Oval in shape, it ran nearly 850 feet north to south on the land and was built of stone Within the enclosure were the ruins of Forradh, a mound of considerable height which was flat at the top. In its centre stood a remarkable stone which used to stand by a smaller mound within Rath Righ, known as the Mound of Hostages. Fiona wondered if this might be a possible site for the missing silk. It had some poetic justice given the plight of the swans held hostage in those forms for so many years. She marked the spot on the map as a potential area and continued with her reading. Apparently Rath Righ also included the Teach Cormac, the house of Cormac. Fiona discarded this as a possibility as they had not yet come across any references to Cormac in any of their wanderings, as important as he might be in the line of Irish history.
As she read on, she was struck by the continued discussion of the pillar stone. Apparently it was moved to the Dumhana-n-Giall, the Mound of Hostages, to mark the grave of some men slain in an encounter with the King's troops during the rising of 1798. More importantly, Dr. Petrie suggested that it was extremely probable that the stone was no other than the Lia Fail, the actual Stone of Destiny. Fiona paused. This was really quite amazing since so many had thought that this stone had been removed from Ireland to Scotland for the cornonation of Fergus Mac Eark, a prince of the blood-royal of Ireland. It was amazing that it would truly have been brought back, this ancient stone upon which the monarchs of Ireland had been crowned for so many ages. She looked at the map again. Perhaps this was actually the correct site. After all, the swans were the transformed children of a king. She circled the site more heavily on the map.
She read further, and three other primary Raths - Rath Caelchu, Fothath Ratha Graine, and Rath Graine - were listed. Fiona drew up short at the mention of the last two. Something rang with the mention of Graine. It tied in so easily with Lin's dreams. Rath Graine, according to the literature which accompanied the map, was said to have belonged to and to have been named after Graine, the daughter of Cormac Mac Art and the eventual wife of Finn Mac Cumhail. Rath Graine lay to the northwest of Rath Righ. She put the map down. It seemed that there were two likely places, at the feet of the Stone of Destiny or somewhere in Rath Graine. The only decision was which to try first. Consulting the map, she decided that given her location she would start with Rath Graine and, if that did not yield results, circle to the Stone. She could only hope that the clouds would lift soon and she would be able to find Lin and Roary. Perhaps they were already at Rath Graine. With this in mind, she put her things away and set off.
The clouds were so dense it was like walking in grey soup. She could barely make out her own feet as she moved through it. She wondered if it was a good idea to be attempting to find Rath Graine with such a hazard in her path. She moved on, taking smaller steps. The sun provided brief streaks of light that revealed her path in quick panes like snapshots of clarity. She trusted in these as she moved forward, reaching into her pocket to grip the star stone, rubbing it with her fingertips and drawing strength. She found herself on a rise and, sensing that she had reached the edge of Rath Graine, she moved up carefully. A bold ray of light found her as she neared the upper plateau. It stayed with her as she crested the ridge. She walked a tight spiral, winding her way inside to an outward loop, testing her field of vision for any possible opening into the world of Rath Graine. Seeing none from her vantage point, she moved down the other side, hoping to find more. The light stayed with her almost to the very bottom and then suddenly she was surrounded by cloud. She grasped the star stone. She stumbled and ended up in a sort of half-gaited run just short of a tumble that took her to the bottom in a rush. There she stood, trapped by the thick cloud, feeling completely blind and utterly alone. She shuddered, wishing that she had not lost Lin and Roary; company would enhance this moment.
She caught a glimmer of light just beyond the edge of her shrouded enclosure and moved toward it. It seemed to travel away from her as she chased it, an ephemeral beacon of hope. She sent her fingers out ahead of her, one hand questing for the light, the other grasping her anchor, grasping the stone. When her foot twisted and she fell, she automatically threw both hands forward, landing roughly on the ground and wholly in the light. She rose, dazed by the fall and dazzled by the light. She raised a hand to shield her eyes and noticed then that her stone was missing from her hand. She immediately checked her pocket; it was no longer there. In a panic she began to search the grass around her, the long blades surrendering nothing but green and dirt to her hands. Growing more frantic she began to sob and tear at the grass, hoping that she could clear enough away to find the stone. The light began to fade as she ripped at the grass, the cloud roughly moving in as a wind picked up around her. "No," slipped from her in anquished recognition that soon she would see nothing at all. And then she heard it, the music, pulling her, tugging at her as the clouds covered her and she faded into them, becoming one with the mist.
She was swept from the ground in a whirl of music that curved into a staircase of stars. She found herself surounded by an indigo night, the music swelling to fill her, almost replacing the ache she felt at the loss of the stone. A warm breath moved across her neck, making her spine tingle, moving down all the way to her toes. A feeling of warmth, like the stroke of a hand traveled through her hair, down the curve of her cheek, around the swell of her breast and into the curve of her waist. She drew in her breath, gasping sharply, her eyes closing with the heat and the pleasure. She felt herself being drawn against the full strength of him, the lean hip, broad chest, the scent that was only him. She breathed him in. Finally, she dared to look. His warm dark eyes stared into her, reaching through to her belly and sparking her smouldering fire. Then he began the dance. They moved as only he could move with her. The music a perfect foil for the fluidity of their unique motion. It built slowly as they moved in their union and rose to a crescendo that was indescribable in its delicacy and perfection.
And then without warning, there was silence and the indigo slipped to black as the stars blinked and were gone. Fiona felt the sudden sting of his absence. She sucked in her breath as if she had been hit, the tears coming unbidden and flowing down her cheeks silently. She was ever so cold. The darkness was overwhelming. She heard a trickle of laughter and the ire that rose in her could not be put down. To have given her so much and taken it away so harshly. She steeled her spine and moved to wipe the tears from her face. As her hand neared her cheek, she felt the sudden rush of a sweetly scented current of air and the brush of silk through her fingertips, then the tug of something rough against her palm. Then the dark swept her down completely and she was empty of all thought.
Fiona drifted on the current of the clouds, finally breaking to consciousness as the light found her spread on the ground. She lay, one hand twisted into the grass and the other clutching something both hard and silky. She turned onto her back carefully. With an unsteady hand, she moved so that her lap provided as solid a base as possible and then dared to open her other palm. Curled in her fist was a trail of indigo silk, almost a perfect match to the sky she had so recently danced in. She fingered the silk and brought the edge to her face. It even smelled somehow both like the stars and like him. Unraveling it, she began to feel her heart pound. She thought perhaps it was her star stone, returned to her. She was disappointed for a moment when the unfurled silk revealed not the original stone, but a different stone. This stone was in the shape of two half moons, curved into each other, each half a perfect complement to the other, the stone complete only with the curves bonded together. It was absolutely beautiful. A curve of green, perhaps Connemarra marble and a curve of white, a stone she could not name. A stone that was impossible, yet here it was in her hand, almost as impossibly as the silk was.
She let the tears flow and used the indigo scarf to catch them. The silk soaking up the tears as if they were the purest of rains.
Fiona studied the map that she had of the area. The hill of Tara, apparently from the earliest period of which there was history, had long been the celebrated seat of the Irish Kings. After the death of Dermot, the son of Fergus, the seat had been deserted, having been said to be cursed on a pronouncement of Saint Ruadan of Lorha against Dermot and his palace. After all this time, the elements of the city, which at that time would have been considered remarkable, could still be distinctly traced. They consisted for the most part of circular or oval enclosures or mounds, within or upon which the city had stood. The names by which the various areas were presently known according to the Ordnance Survey map laid down by Dr. Petrie and J. O'Donovan Esquire were based on ancient documents. The primary Rath, called Rath Righ, was apparently now nearly level with the ground. Oval in shape, it ran nearly 850 feet north to south on the land and was built of stone Within the enclosure were the ruins of Forradh, a mound of considerable height which was flat at the top. In its centre stood a remarkable stone which used to stand by a smaller mound within Rath Righ, known as the Mound of Hostages. Fiona wondered if this might be a possible site for the missing silk. It had some poetic justice given the plight of the swans held hostage in those forms for so many years. She marked the spot on the map as a potential area and continued with her reading. Apparently Rath Righ also included the Teach Cormac, the house of Cormac. Fiona discarded this as a possibility as they had not yet come across any references to Cormac in any of their wanderings, as important as he might be in the line of Irish history.
As she read on, she was struck by the continued discussion of the pillar stone. Apparently it was moved to the Dumhana-n-Giall, the Mound of Hostages, to mark the grave of some men slain in an encounter with the King's troops during the rising of 1798. More importantly, Dr. Petrie suggested that it was extremely probable that the stone was no other than the Lia Fail, the actual Stone of Destiny. Fiona paused. This was really quite amazing since so many had thought that this stone had been removed from Ireland to Scotland for the cornonation of Fergus Mac Eark, a prince of the blood-royal of Ireland. It was amazing that it would truly have been brought back, this ancient stone upon which the monarchs of Ireland had been crowned for so many ages. She looked at the map again. Perhaps this was actually the correct site. After all, the swans were the transformed children of a king. She circled the site more heavily on the map.
She read further, and three other primary Raths - Rath Caelchu, Fothath Ratha Graine, and Rath Graine - were listed. Fiona drew up short at the mention of the last two. Something rang with the mention of Graine. It tied in so easily with Lin's dreams. Rath Graine, according to the literature which accompanied the map, was said to have belonged to and to have been named after Graine, the daughter of Cormac Mac Art and the eventual wife of Finn Mac Cumhail. Rath Graine lay to the northwest of Rath Righ. She put the map down. It seemed that there were two likely places, at the feet of the Stone of Destiny or somewhere in Rath Graine. The only decision was which to try first. Consulting the map, she decided that given her location she would start with Rath Graine and, if that did not yield results, circle to the Stone. She could only hope that the clouds would lift soon and she would be able to find Lin and Roary. Perhaps they were already at Rath Graine. With this in mind, she put her things away and set off.
The clouds were so dense it was like walking in grey soup. She could barely make out her own feet as she moved through it. She wondered if it was a good idea to be attempting to find Rath Graine with such a hazard in her path. She moved on, taking smaller steps. The sun provided brief streaks of light that revealed her path in quick panes like snapshots of clarity. She trusted in these as she moved forward, reaching into her pocket to grip the star stone, rubbing it with her fingertips and drawing strength. She found herself on a rise and, sensing that she had reached the edge of Rath Graine, she moved up carefully. A bold ray of light found her as she neared the upper plateau. It stayed with her as she crested the ridge. She walked a tight spiral, winding her way inside to an outward loop, testing her field of vision for any possible opening into the world of Rath Graine. Seeing none from her vantage point, she moved down the other side, hoping to find more. The light stayed with her almost to the very bottom and then suddenly she was surrounded by cloud. She grasped the star stone. She stumbled and ended up in a sort of half-gaited run just short of a tumble that took her to the bottom in a rush. There she stood, trapped by the thick cloud, feeling completely blind and utterly alone. She shuddered, wishing that she had not lost Lin and Roary; company would enhance this moment.
She caught a glimmer of light just beyond the edge of her shrouded enclosure and moved toward it. It seemed to travel away from her as she chased it, an ephemeral beacon of hope. She sent her fingers out ahead of her, one hand questing for the light, the other grasping her anchor, grasping the stone. When her foot twisted and she fell, she automatically threw both hands forward, landing roughly on the ground and wholly in the light. She rose, dazed by the fall and dazzled by the light. She raised a hand to shield her eyes and noticed then that her stone was missing from her hand. She immediately checked her pocket; it was no longer there. In a panic she began to search the grass around her, the long blades surrendering nothing but green and dirt to her hands. Growing more frantic she began to sob and tear at the grass, hoping that she could clear enough away to find the stone. The light began to fade as she ripped at the grass, the cloud roughly moving in as a wind picked up around her. "No," slipped from her in anquished recognition that soon she would see nothing at all. And then she heard it, the music, pulling her, tugging at her as the clouds covered her and she faded into them, becoming one with the mist.
She was swept from the ground in a whirl of music that curved into a staircase of stars. She found herself surounded by an indigo night, the music swelling to fill her, almost replacing the ache she felt at the loss of the stone. A warm breath moved across her neck, making her spine tingle, moving down all the way to her toes. A feeling of warmth, like the stroke of a hand traveled through her hair, down the curve of her cheek, around the swell of her breast and into the curve of her waist. She drew in her breath, gasping sharply, her eyes closing with the heat and the pleasure. She felt herself being drawn against the full strength of him, the lean hip, broad chest, the scent that was only him. She breathed him in. Finally, she dared to look. His warm dark eyes stared into her, reaching through to her belly and sparking her smouldering fire. Then he began the dance. They moved as only he could move with her. The music a perfect foil for the fluidity of their unique motion. It built slowly as they moved in their union and rose to a crescendo that was indescribable in its delicacy and perfection.
And then without warning, there was silence and the indigo slipped to black as the stars blinked and were gone. Fiona felt the sudden sting of his absence. She sucked in her breath as if she had been hit, the tears coming unbidden and flowing down her cheeks silently. She was ever so cold. The darkness was overwhelming. She heard a trickle of laughter and the ire that rose in her could not be put down. To have given her so much and taken it away so harshly. She steeled her spine and moved to wipe the tears from her face. As her hand neared her cheek, she felt the sudden rush of a sweetly scented current of air and the brush of silk through her fingertips, then the tug of something rough against her palm. Then the dark swept her down completely and she was empty of all thought.
Fiona drifted on the current of the clouds, finally breaking to consciousness as the light found her spread on the ground. She lay, one hand twisted into the grass and the other clutching something both hard and silky. She turned onto her back carefully. With an unsteady hand, she moved so that her lap provided as solid a base as possible and then dared to open her other palm. Curled in her fist was a trail of indigo silk, almost a perfect match to the sky she had so recently danced in. She fingered the silk and brought the edge to her face. It even smelled somehow both like the stars and like him. Unraveling it, she began to feel her heart pound. She thought perhaps it was her star stone, returned to her. She was disappointed for a moment when the unfurled silk revealed not the original stone, but a different stone. This stone was in the shape of two half moons, curved into each other, each half a perfect complement to the other, the stone complete only with the curves bonded together. It was absolutely beautiful. A curve of green, perhaps Connemarra marble and a curve of white, a stone she could not name. A stone that was impossible, yet here it was in her hand, almost as impossibly as the silk was.
She let the tears flow and used the indigo scarf to catch them. The silk soaking up the tears as if they were the purest of rains.
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
Participles and Portents (70)
Smoke and Ruins
The mist rose off the green hills like smoke from a chimney. Great puffs hovered, hugging the curves, providing only glimpses of the lush grandeur that was all that remained of the former glory of the home of kings. Tara was a series of rolling hillocks with a few outcroppings of ruins set here and there, nothing compelling really, at least compared to the other ruins that could be found throughout Ireland. It made a sad effort to tell the story of what was once the crowning jewel in the system of the Chieftains and their rule.
They parked and made their way toward the fog-bound site. It seemed a bit foreboding in its present state. Here and there a shaft of light broke through the clouds, illuminating the green of the fields in a way that almost made the scene look unreal, as if painted on rather than actual grass. Fiona stopped to look at the small drawing she had that laid out the basic groundwork for Tara. It reflected the various chambers, their considered uses and names. When she looked up again, Roary and Lin had been consumed by the fog. It was unnatural the way they just disappeared into the mist and it chilled her. She called out to them, but there was no answer. She briefly considered running in the direction she thought they were traveling, and then decided against it. Running in this soup was likely to send her head over heels down one of the slopes with a root tucked under the toe of a boot. She would be better off waiting for the sun to burn off the mist and looking for them in the clear of the afternoon. In the meantime, she could try to discern where in the devil a silk might be among these hillocks. It certainly did not seem that there were all that many hidden spaces here at the remains of the ancient home of the king of Ireland. She sighed. It was sad, really, that this part of the old legends was so far gone, there were so many tales that revolved around this very special place. It would have been grand to have more to visit than just your imagination when coming here. She turned her attention to the map, determined to force her attention to more useful musings.
Roary and Lin had moved through the fog and down the slope to the small component of remaining exposed ruins. The incline was surprisingly steep near the bottom and Roary had instinctually moved closer to clasp Lin's elbow and hand, steadying her progress downward. At the base, near the ruins, the cold seemed less sharp and the sun a bit stronger. It felt like this spot was being illuminated, or perhaps it was merely the fact that they felt illuminated themselves that made the small area appear to have a halo of sorts. Roary reached out to grasp her other hand, pulling her around to fully face him.
"Why don't ye say it out loud?"
"Say what?"
"Whatever it is that has itself stuck on yer tongue. Ye've been tied up in it all mornin'."
"I'm fine."
'Aye, an yer sure about that," he tucked a stray tendril of hair behind her ear and stared at her, daring her to hold firm.
"I . . . it's just . . . I had a rough night."
"Were ye ill?"
"Actually, yes, but that wasn't the worst part."
Roary waited for her to continue. Lin took her time, weighing her words, testing the idea of telling him, and then it just tumbled out. The first dream: its lightness, the joy and the awful carnal end; the time at the sink (though this certainly in less detail); and then the second dream, only not diluted as she had repeated it to Fiona. She moved as she spoke, not far, one or two steps, then back again to catch his eye - to seek a nod of comprehension. As she told the second dream, Roary found it hard to listen. He knew too much already. He certainly knew more than he should. He should never have read the little green notebook. It was an act that could not be undone. He felt like a thief who had stolen her privacy, only perhaps a bit worse because she didna' even know it had been stolen. By the time she came to the end of the dream she was crying softly. He did the only thing he could think of, he cradled her in his arms and waited. He waited for his guilt to pass and for her tears to slow. He felt her move to wipe the salt streaks from her cheeks. Then she tipped her face to his.
"Thank you,' she fairly whispered.
"Yer welcome," he growled as he kissed her. It wasna at all what he intended to do, but the frank, open look on her face, the fragility of it, had undone him.
Lin gasped at the touch of his rough cheek and the pressure of his lips against hers. Then she just let herself sink into the moment. She let him slide his strength around her and lift her up. She let him make her breath whole. How they found their way to the soft grass was lost in just that one source of connection. Once there, though, it was a series of fluid motions that sent the embers to flames and the flames to full conflagration. The fire burned and consumed, engulfed, declared itself unquenchable and finally burst into its zenith - all of its energy expended in reaching that brightest, hottest burning moment. Equally stunned by what they had just dared to share with such public abandon, Roary and Lin stared as if seeing each other for the first time. The moment hung in the air, transcendant. Lin broke the spell as she cracked a wicked little smile and started to laugh just a bit, rolling to start putting herself back together. Roary looked at her askance.
"Well, you have to admit that was a bit over the top even for the wildest tourist fantasy,"
"I'm no tourist, Lass, and I'd like to think that what just happened was no' bit of fancy, But, aye, I suppose we could have found a more private spot," he replied as he helped her to her feet. He kissed her soundly. "Though I wouldna take a moment o' it back, mind ye." She stayed in his arms, resting her head on his shoulder. "Definitely a memory worth having, I have to agree." Then she did the one thing he did not expect. She stood on her toes and she kissed him. Leaning back with a smile she asked, "I don't suppose you know where my mother is?"
"Och, ye don't suppose she came upon us and decided to visit again a wee bit later?"
Lin gave him a horrified look. "Surely not, I'm certain she would have let us know she was here. Wouldn't she? Oh, my, that would be embarrassing," she mumbled at last.
"I imagine she's aware yer not a virgin."
"That's different than watching, you clot!"
"I'm aware of that, but what else could ye hear that would make ye feel better? Ye've a fine arse?"
Lin punched him in the arm and they began to laugh, the tension breaking at the absurdity of the moment. It really was a good thing that they had not been seen. They would have enough explaining to do in any event.
Lin tried for a serious face, "Really, though, its been quite a while, hasn't it? Where is she?"
The mist rose off the green hills like smoke from a chimney. Great puffs hovered, hugging the curves, providing only glimpses of the lush grandeur that was all that remained of the former glory of the home of kings. Tara was a series of rolling hillocks with a few outcroppings of ruins set here and there, nothing compelling really, at least compared to the other ruins that could be found throughout Ireland. It made a sad effort to tell the story of what was once the crowning jewel in the system of the Chieftains and their rule.
They parked and made their way toward the fog-bound site. It seemed a bit foreboding in its present state. Here and there a shaft of light broke through the clouds, illuminating the green of the fields in a way that almost made the scene look unreal, as if painted on rather than actual grass. Fiona stopped to look at the small drawing she had that laid out the basic groundwork for Tara. It reflected the various chambers, their considered uses and names. When she looked up again, Roary and Lin had been consumed by the fog. It was unnatural the way they just disappeared into the mist and it chilled her. She called out to them, but there was no answer. She briefly considered running in the direction she thought they were traveling, and then decided against it. Running in this soup was likely to send her head over heels down one of the slopes with a root tucked under the toe of a boot. She would be better off waiting for the sun to burn off the mist and looking for them in the clear of the afternoon. In the meantime, she could try to discern where in the devil a silk might be among these hillocks. It certainly did not seem that there were all that many hidden spaces here at the remains of the ancient home of the king of Ireland. She sighed. It was sad, really, that this part of the old legends was so far gone, there were so many tales that revolved around this very special place. It would have been grand to have more to visit than just your imagination when coming here. She turned her attention to the map, determined to force her attention to more useful musings.
Roary and Lin had moved through the fog and down the slope to the small component of remaining exposed ruins. The incline was surprisingly steep near the bottom and Roary had instinctually moved closer to clasp Lin's elbow and hand, steadying her progress downward. At the base, near the ruins, the cold seemed less sharp and the sun a bit stronger. It felt like this spot was being illuminated, or perhaps it was merely the fact that they felt illuminated themselves that made the small area appear to have a halo of sorts. Roary reached out to grasp her other hand, pulling her around to fully face him.
"Why don't ye say it out loud?"
"Say what?"
"Whatever it is that has itself stuck on yer tongue. Ye've been tied up in it all mornin'."
"I'm fine."
'Aye, an yer sure about that," he tucked a stray tendril of hair behind her ear and stared at her, daring her to hold firm.
"I . . . it's just . . . I had a rough night."
"Were ye ill?"
"Actually, yes, but that wasn't the worst part."
Roary waited for her to continue. Lin took her time, weighing her words, testing the idea of telling him, and then it just tumbled out. The first dream: its lightness, the joy and the awful carnal end; the time at the sink (though this certainly in less detail); and then the second dream, only not diluted as she had repeated it to Fiona. She moved as she spoke, not far, one or two steps, then back again to catch his eye - to seek a nod of comprehension. As she told the second dream, Roary found it hard to listen. He knew too much already. He certainly knew more than he should. He should never have read the little green notebook. It was an act that could not be undone. He felt like a thief who had stolen her privacy, only perhaps a bit worse because she didna' even know it had been stolen. By the time she came to the end of the dream she was crying softly. He did the only thing he could think of, he cradled her in his arms and waited. He waited for his guilt to pass and for her tears to slow. He felt her move to wipe the salt streaks from her cheeks. Then she tipped her face to his.
"Thank you,' she fairly whispered.
"Yer welcome," he growled as he kissed her. It wasna at all what he intended to do, but the frank, open look on her face, the fragility of it, had undone him.
Lin gasped at the touch of his rough cheek and the pressure of his lips against hers. Then she just let herself sink into the moment. She let him slide his strength around her and lift her up. She let him make her breath whole. How they found their way to the soft grass was lost in just that one source of connection. Once there, though, it was a series of fluid motions that sent the embers to flames and the flames to full conflagration. The fire burned and consumed, engulfed, declared itself unquenchable and finally burst into its zenith - all of its energy expended in reaching that brightest, hottest burning moment. Equally stunned by what they had just dared to share with such public abandon, Roary and Lin stared as if seeing each other for the first time. The moment hung in the air, transcendant. Lin broke the spell as she cracked a wicked little smile and started to laugh just a bit, rolling to start putting herself back together. Roary looked at her askance.
"Well, you have to admit that was a bit over the top even for the wildest tourist fantasy,"
"I'm no tourist, Lass, and I'd like to think that what just happened was no' bit of fancy, But, aye, I suppose we could have found a more private spot," he replied as he helped her to her feet. He kissed her soundly. "Though I wouldna take a moment o' it back, mind ye." She stayed in his arms, resting her head on his shoulder. "Definitely a memory worth having, I have to agree." Then she did the one thing he did not expect. She stood on her toes and she kissed him. Leaning back with a smile she asked, "I don't suppose you know where my mother is?"
"Och, ye don't suppose she came upon us and decided to visit again a wee bit later?"
Lin gave him a horrified look. "Surely not, I'm certain she would have let us know she was here. Wouldn't she? Oh, my, that would be embarrassing," she mumbled at last.
"I imagine she's aware yer not a virgin."
"That's different than watching, you clot!"
"I'm aware of that, but what else could ye hear that would make ye feel better? Ye've a fine arse?"
Lin punched him in the arm and they began to laugh, the tension breaking at the absurdity of the moment. It really was a good thing that they had not been seen. They would have enough explaining to do in any event.
Lin tried for a serious face, "Really, though, its been quite a while, hasn't it? Where is she?"
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