(Continued directly from Silvered in the Moonlight)
Turning back to the warmth of the bed, my body sought rest, even if my mind continued to twist possibilities into endless knots.
And then I saw something. Just out of the corner of my eye it was. Movement. A shape changing darkness, even against the dark of night. It did not move into the moonlight, but seemed to jump from tree to tree, as if it would blot out all illumination until it settled almost over the silver wolf’s head.
Outside, Isa raised her glance and looked straight at the fluid darker darkness. She made no sound I could hear. Neither did she make a challenge, or run.
Herne, down in Ethel’s room was another matter. He barked out an alarm.
I was still, my own head cocked to one side; a mirror of my wolf. Listening intently for something other than…ah, a flutter of several pairs of wings.
There was a noise from the basement as a woken Ethel walked hurriedly upstairs, and a ‘clank’ as she took up a weapon. The key turned in the lock as she opened the main door. Then I was running to the stairs. “Ethel, no!” to be overtaken by a surprisingly wide-awake Waelden.
“Spear,” he hissed. “Get back in the house. Ethel.”
There was silence.
Waelden and I ran across the wooden floor to the door, which was lit with moonlight again.
“It’s alright, old ones,” Ethel said, her voice a little raspy from the cold air. “We have it sorted.”
The chance of any threat lurking near Duncadda’s house, and ours, was a very slight one. The garrison still stood alert. There were still patrols going out every eve. But you could never be totally certain.
“It’s no man out there,” Waelden stated bluntly, to be answered by another flurry of wings as some few birds settled on our roof.
“Crebain” Ethel announced. “Though I didn’t think they flew at night.” Then Herne barked again. A curious bark it was, not a warning or threat.
A girl with a drawn dagger, and hound with a wagging tail came back through the door to us. Following them, we could see what appeared to be a small family of Crebain sitting in the yard. Now they began making noises. Not the harsh ‘cawing’ alerts normally associated with such animals, but the gentler, almost cooing sound they spoke with each other. As we turned to close the door, one broke from their number, jumping towards us. Noting we had seen him or her, the bird changed to walking with a confident saunter through the door, then hopping up on a chair near the embers of the fire.
“Caw” it said, looking up at me with a blinking, dark circular eye.
“Caw?” I returned, tilting my head to one side.
Waelden lowered the spear and scratched his beard. “Do tell me, you are not now ‘She-crow’, Yllfa?”
I hoped he was jesting, but it felt almost as if the creban had been sent to me.
“Can we keep him?” said Ethel. She shrugged her shoulders lightly. “I have to ask, don’t I.”
“We will see in the morning. After your mama had had a chance to ‘talk’ with him.” Waelden half coughed.
(Linked to this picture )
