Wild Watchtower: Shield & Claw Book One

Chapter Twenty-Three: The Roaring Bay

The light streaming through an unfamiliar window roused me in an unfamiliar bed. I groaned as I rolled away from the brilliant glow of the rising late summer sun as it poured across the hills and valleys of Tírlaochra to the east. I wished the window faced west, and not only because it would have kept the sun at bay for a little longer. No, I would've liked to wake to the familiar sight of the sea, but I was just a guest and making demands would've been rude.

At least I had been given a comfortable bed after a healer had seen to both my wounds and Deimhin's, and the scent of healing herbs and old blood still clung to me. I smiled at the reminder of what I'd achieved, despite the burning pain that still made my body stiff and hesitant to move.

Yet the combined fragrances also made me nostalgic for home; the mixed aroma of medicinal flora and the blood Deimhin had spilled as he fought to subdue me reminded me of Cróga, of what he had endured in my defence, even though he had never shown any inclination of wanting to challenge father before. My brother loved me, perhaps more than I'd ever realised, and I wondered what he would think if he could see me now. He'd be proud, no doubt, that he had taught me to bluff well enough to take a chance at making a stand.

Still, I wondered how many more wolves I'd need to fight before I reached my destination, or before the reputation which preceded me shifted enough that others would give me any modicum of the respect that they so instinctively offered Styrkr. Would they ever see me as anything but a weak link?

When Aisling left home, I felt sure she would face far fewer challenges. She already had a reputation as something more than an Omega wolf; a title strangers seemed determined to give me even though it had never been my position. My history had taught our peers a different story to that which preceded my sisters, and the only way to change their perception would be with fang and claw.

At least those I challenged wouldn't kill me outright. Murdering the daughter of Láidir of the first tower wouldn't go down well in the Tírgardaí, so I had no real fear. Anyway a few scars might make it easier to bluff some of the weaker-willed into submission.

Or so I hoped.

Pushing thoughts of future challenges away, I forced my protesting body to rise from the safe nest of the bed, and realised that I hadn't bothered to retrieve my dress from the floor of the hall when I retired for the evening. At least that wolves saw clothing as optional and no one would care if I turned up to breakfast naked as the day I was born.

Oh, how we scandalised elves and men, but clothing made shifting more difficult, and often felt like manacles designed to keep is in line; to stop us being what we were. It was like the ribbons which bound the Great Wolf of my ancestors' gods; so insubstantial really, and yet so restrictive. The elves had chained us with duty and the trappings of 'nobility' and 'civility' as easily as the gods had fettered Fenris.

Or the tried to. I refused to believe they'd fully tamed our wildness.

I strode out of the room I'd been given, unconcerned by either my nudity, my bruises, or the salve covered wounds that littered my bare skin. As I made my way along the corridor, I forced my legs to work without a limp, though my fang-shredded calf wanted to dispute the idea. Descending the stairs proved more difficult than I remembered the ascension being; each step a teetering trial thanks to the stiffness in my limbs. Despite that, I managed to traverse the four storeys to the ground floor without incident, where I turned towards the doors of the great hall and drew myself up to my full height before entering a room already echoing with the chatter of a pack at breakfast.

I entered just as a little girl charged at the door, a boy who must be her twin on her heels. She squealed in delight as he chased her, playing some game and entirely unconcerned bout the stranger looming in the doorway. She pushed her way past me just as her brother tripped over feet he hadn't yet learned to co-ordinate as well as he eventually would, his body lurching into an unintentional dive.