The Song Of The Wolf (Edited & Rewritten)

Chapter Four

Steam rose from the clawfoot bath, illuminated by the ribbons of light playing on the pine panelled ceiling. Birdsong swooped in through the balcony door, heralding the rising sun. Maebh sat still, ears perked, motionless enough to become an extension of the bathroom fittings. A baritone whispering had disrupted her chamomile soak.

She stirred, the water around her responding with a ripple, and tilted her head, straining to isolate the anomaly within the soundscape.

There it was again. A faint humming.

A plump plumaged bird with a sleek crest landed on the balcony ledge, melody emanating from its open beak, ascending spirals and ringing trills. 

Maebh drew her legs towards her chest, nestling herself in the curve of the porcelain tub. She rested her chin atop her knees. Numerous migraine prescription drugs had passed down the hatch since the pizza party, none successful in blocking the throbbing behind her temples.

A shroud of disquiet draped itself over her. The feathered visitor, a Bohemian Waxwing, took flight and rhythmic flutters propelled it into the foliage. Then, Maebh recognised the sensation of being watched.

With the precision of a compass needle seeking true north, Maebh's gaze travelled from the condensated tiles to the garden below, where her breath lodged in her throat. Amidst a congregation of spruce, sat a gigantic wolf. The beast's fur seemed to emerge from the very fabric of the soil. Twin orbs of auburn flame bore into her with an intent that sent shivers down her spine.

Maebh felt stripped bare, a feeling that went beyond the nakedness of her skin. She stepped out of the tub. With a towel wrapped around her, she closed all the curtains on the first floor and tried not to think about the animal. She contemplated dialling Bear's number, but the idea was quickly quashed. What could she possibly say? Hello, yes, there's an enormous wolf loitering in my garden and it's watching me? Also, I have befriended a wolf pup who gets to sleep on the reupholstered furniture if he eats spiders, so it might be his mam, here to swallow me whole for hogging her child? He'd declare her sick in the head.

A sad bit of cardboard peered at her from the landing, which had quickly become a dumping ground for postponed tasks. Moving boxes with scuffed up corners, bearing the marks of their journey across the ocean, sat stacked against the wall, and had been for weeks.

Maebh put on a k-drama on her laptop, lowered herself to the floor and got to work. She sorted, organised, and reminisced. Whiffs of home accompanied the opened boxes, wafting up to meet her. Burned peat, meadowsweet and wild thyme. After chucking the last flat-folded cardboard over the balustrade, she peeked past the curtains. The wolf had vanished.

Lunch came and went, and Maebh kept busy. Kneeled next to her driveway, she weeded methodically, pulling at the roots, shaking them and tossing them in a neat pile.

'If it ain't my favourite Mae.'

Maebh's head jerked up to the hulking figure towering over her, 'If you and Coinín keep popping up out of nowhere, you're signing me up for a premature death.'

'I'll pass the message,' Bear grinned.

She wiped her knees of excessive dirt, tossed the pile of weeds into a rubbish bin and pulled off her gardening gloves. 

'Hot tip. Don't do any garden work if you have a gardener,' Bear said.

Maebh ran the back of her wrist across her forehead, wiping the beads of perspiration as she took in his bulking form in fur, 'What the feck are you wearing!' she burst out laughing.

The man posed and twirled on his axis, 'My world famous bear coat. Thought I'd show you.'

'You'll get heatstroke, ye eejit!'