Words and Waves
Fiona stood with her back to Roary and Lin. She could just barely make out bits and pieces of an ongoing argument, the lilt in his deep bass voice somehow softening the edges of the angry tones. Her daughter's slicing remarks had no such benefit. They simply cut the air, leaving shreds in their wake. She really wanted them both to just shut up. It was well past time to stop fighting. They needed to move, to do something. Her grandchildren were lost. They were lost in a world she did not even begin to understand. They were lost in a world that only moments ago it seemed had given her everything she could have dreamed of, and now it had taken everything, or almost everything she had left from her. She idly rubbed the star-shaped pebble she carried in her pocket. Part of her wanted to fling it into the sea, but at this thought she found her hand gripping it protectively through the fabric of her jacket. No, she would not part with it. The Sidhe at Poulnabrone were not of Aiofe's ilk, she simply could not believe that. Brushing the tears from her cheeks she turned to face the two combatants. "Enough," she said soflty but forcefully.
Roary and Lin turned as if on strings at the one soft but firm command. They stood together under Fiona's harsh and judgmental stare and felt very, very ashamed.
"You're right," said Lin. " We need to start doing something about what has happened, not just arguing about it."
"Aye," groaned Roary, running his meaty hands through his hair.
Lin walked closer to the sea. "I just can't imagine where they have gone to. There is no land in sight for miles, and they can't still just be in the spray."
Roary walked over to stand nearer Fiona as if bracing her, or perhaps himself. "Tis more likely that they simply shot the mist o'er and are either held fast on the other side or have landed a good piece from here. Either way, there's no way of our knowin' where they are," he said slowly and carefully, rolling the words out as if they needed to be measured first before they were said.
Lin did not turn around; she just nodded her head, her shoulders sagging with defeat from the weight of the words. Yes, they did need to be weighed, and the weight was hard to bear. She turned and walked back to the boys' things. She picked up their clothes, holding the shirts up to breathe in their scents. Then she gathered their packs. As she lifted Sean's, a book fell out. It was very old. She picked it up quickly to avoid letting the wet sand injure the soft hide. Running her fingers over the leather she appreciated the age of it, could feel Sean running his hands over it and loving the feel of the age in the leather and the binding. She knew somehow that this was the book he had hidden in his clothes coming back from Roary's shop not that long ago. She let it fall open in her hand. There it was, the story of the Children of Lir. She clamped the book shut and stuffed it into Sean's pack. "Damn them, bloody hell," she thought. "Why did I ever let myself get tangled up with a bad mannered bit of swan anyway?"
She walked over to Fiona and Roary and they began to make their way up the strand toward the house.
"I can put on some tea," said Fiona distractedly.
Roary pulled at Lin until she moved closer to him, close enough for him to speak to her without speaking to Fiona. Her mother seemed worried enough he thought. "I probably shouldna' be tellin' ye this just yet," he said. "But ye' need to know. We havena' that much time. All the stories I know about the changin' of folk, well they do not end well. The people, they end up runnin' wild. Once the instinct of the animal gets into em, they never really come back."
Lin stared at him.
"What I am tryin' to tell ye' is when she warned ye' about the boys becoming real hounds, she was tellin' ye' true. Ye' have to solve this for her before they get feral, while they still treat each other as brothers, as human brothers, or I think they will be lost. Ye ken?" He looked at her for some reassurance that she understood. She only stared at him as if he had ceased to exist, then walked past him to follow her mother along the path to the cottage.
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