The North

Chapter 13

Have you ever been told there was something you couldn't do, and then proven them wrong?

Chapter 13
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The hall felt gapingly empty without jostling occupants. A few wolves lingered, those who couldn’t join the rest for meals because of various duties, but most everyone else had headed to bed. It had been a good night. My cheeks hurt from smiling and laughing with Fionnlagh and his friends, Mother had left looking at ease and relaxed, kissing my cheek and fussing over my hair before going to bed herself. Father ate well, as did I for once. For the first time, I felt almost at home. Even Mother’s friends had bid me goodnight with touches to my arm and promises of seeing me tomorrow.

Head propped on my hand, my fingers absentmindedly traced the bumps and ridges of my mug as my eyes trailed along the rafters. Maybe in a few more weeks, I’d forget how much I hated being inside.

“You are too young to remember,” Father said, drawing me gaze to him. He smiled but his gaze was far off, head tilted thoughtfully. “But one of the last gatherings we attended was in a hall much like this. Every couple of years, we would go and discuss good hunting ground with other packs, young unmated wolves would sniff around for potential partners, and much gossip was shared. It was during one of the worst winters I can remember. The blizzards lasted days, and the snow was so frozen they could cut through fur and skin. It slowed us down, and you were only young for having to travel so far in such conditions. You spent much of our journey yapping and whining.”

He chuckled as I ducked my head in embarrassment, leaning back at ease now he was in the swing of storytelling.

“Mànas was the only one in the pack who wasn’t beyond frustrated trying to keep you moving. He even offered to carry you in skin but he would have frozen solid in a matter of minutes. When we eventually arrived, you slept a full night and into the middle sun of the next day. There were so many wolves that year, almost like many knew it would be the last time , no where near as many as there are here, but that was the most I’d ever seen at once at the time. Oighrig told fortunes, your mother sang, my brother and I drank too much mead. Talk of Blood Drinkers was but a quiet rumour then, whispers from across the sea. . .”

His smile turned to a frown, so before he could forget the sweetness in what he was saying, I said, “I’m glad this place brings you happy memories.”

They were memories I wished I had.

He smiled again, reaching across the table to take my hand. “We will all run together again, one day. In bright filled meadows watched over by Hel, daughter of Loki. Or in Tir Na Nog, with The Morrigan. . .to keep your mother happy.”

He winked.

That was what I dreamt of after all; running with Mànas, Uncle Aonghas and nameless others through flowers and long grass, following trails of deer, boar, and other delectables. I would be happy if that was what waited for us. If I even still believed in such a thing. It was hard to.

 A yawn forced my jaw apart, and though Father resisted eye contact, it got to him to. He hid his behind his hand, rubbing watering eyes, but I could see he was in need of rest. He was still healing, and I doubted Eirny would be happy to see him still up so late.

“You don’t have to stay,” I murmured.

“I don’t want to leave you alone.”

Laughing gently, I motioned to the wolves around us. “I’m not alone. Go, before you’re so tired you need me to help you to bed.”

He chuffed in return, looking towards the head table where Alpha Hati sat still surrounded by highranked and, I assumed, other council members. The group were intently looking over a piece of parchment on the table before them, and whatever they discussed, they were careful to keep their voices low enough nobody could listen in. A talent around so many sharp-eared beings.