Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

N ight had fallen and the thick mist remained. Cree’s horse’s snorts led him to where he had left him and he ran a gentle hand down his side to calm him, then took hold of his reins. He kept tight to the side of the keep following the directions Olwen had given him, taking no chance of getting lost in the mist and leaving Dawn alone in the keep. He made his way slowly along the stone wall keeping alert for sounds, particularly the howl of a wolf.

When he reached the end of the wall, he peered as best as he could into the mist and caught sight of something looming large a few steps away. He kept his eyes on it as he made his way towards it, his horse following behind, his gait agitated.

Cree made it to the building and pushed open the wide door and once his horse was inside, he hurried and closed the door. He spotted a sconce attached to a wood post and made his way to it to set the torch’s handle in it.

“You will be safe here and you are not alone,” Cree said to his horse as he eyed the four stalls curiously. Two were occupied and two sat empty.

He walked his horse to the empty one nearest the door in case he had to leave hastily. He would be easier to reach and to be on his way with Dawn if a quick departure proved necessary. The thought that his wife was alone in an unfamiliar keep had him hurrying to see his horse settled comfortably and safely.

Cree heard it as he tended to his horse—a low growl. The other horses’ sudden uneasiness told him they had heard it as well. It was a growling rumble, and it sounded like it was close to the stable.

He stilled and listened, but the horses remained agitated, snorting and stomping the ground with their hooves. He made no move to console them. It would be a worthless effort with wolves roaming nearby.

The door creaked as if someone or something pressed against it and this time the growl was distinct. A wolf prowled outside.

How had wolves entered the area? Where were the clan warriors and the torches that kept unwanted animals at bay?

“MacMadadh meant son of the wolf,” Cree whispered. “Werewolves.”

Where the foolish thought came from, he couldn’t say. It was utter nonsense to think such a thing could be true that humans could turn into wolves. But it was a tale that was repeatedly told in the Highlands as well as in foreign lands he had traveled to. He had even seen a man hung for believing to have turned into a wolf when the moon was full, even though no one had ever seen him transform into such a creature. He had learned that in the ensuing years after the hanging there had been no more wolf attacks. So, could it be true or merely a coincidence? Either way, he did not want to leave Dawn alone for long, though it also wouldn’t be wise of him to leave the safety of the stable when growling was heard. He feared Dawn’s fate if anything should happen to him, not so if he were home. There she would have friends to console her and would make sure she stayed safe.

“I need to get back to Dawn,” he said to the horse, though more to himself.

Once he finished tending to his horse, he stilled and listened again. The growling had ceased, and the horses had calmed down. That meant that the wolves weren’t around the stable, but what about the keep?

He had no choice. He had to take a chance.

He slipped as quietly as possible from the stable, but his steps seemed to echo in the fog and the door to the stable sounded as if it creaked loudly in the night. Even crackles and spit could be heard from the flicking flames of the torch he carried.

Cree stopped briefly, thinking he heard a low growl and swung the torch around him, in warning to any wolf that might be near, then he continued walking. He had taken several steps and stopped again. He should have reached the keep by now. Had he disoriented himself when swinging the torch and inadvertently gone in the wrong direction?

Stranger still, Olwen was right about the fog. It had thickened. He could not even see where he was walking. A few more steps and he found himself at a cottage, at least that was what he believed, having to feel his way around it.

When his hand felt the door, it creaked open, and Cree called out, “I am looking for the keep, can you set me in its direction?”

When no one answered, he pushed the door further open and saw a fire burning in the hearth. He called out again and when no one responded, he entered and jumped back, his heart slamming against his chest and his hand going to the hilt of his sword at his waist.

He shook his head when he realized the wolf’s eyes glaring at him and the sharp teeth appearing ready to attack was the head of a wolf resting on a bench. He stepped further into the small room and when he reached the center, he stood staring at the walls. Wolf pelts covered the walls.

“MacMadadh, son of the wolf,” he whispered, reminding himself once again.

Was the clan out hunting wolves tonight the reason the village appeared empty? Were women and children tucked away tightly in their homes while their husbands hunted? Or had he stumbled into a den of werewolves?

Cree shook his head at the insane thought, blaming it on the heavy fog and the prowling wolves. Whoever inhabited this place was a skilled wolf hunter. He turned to leave, anxious to get back to Dawn, when he heard a weak growl. He gazed around and when he didn’t spot anything he went to leave only to have his attention caught again by the sound of several, soft growls.

He thought he knew where it came from and stepped closer to the narrow bed in the corner and that’s when he spotted the small paws peeking out from beneath the bed.

He set the torch he carried in a bracer on the wall and crouched down in front of the small paws, tossing the blanket back that hung down over the side of the bed, hiding the animal beneath.

A little wolf cub stared back at him growling, his teeth small but sharp, nonetheless.

“Are you all right, little wolf?” he asked, and the cub jumped at him as if ready to attack then cried out in pain and collapsed.

Cree wondered if the wolf he heard outside the stable was searching for the small cub and if the injured cub was drawn into the heat and safety of the shelter. He knew he should leave the cub alone and let his mum or da find him, but what if they didn’t? What if the hunter returned and found him? But his decision to help the cub was made on only one thought… Dawn would never forgive him for not helping the helpless, little cub, wolf or not.

He grabbed a soft pelt from the bed and dropped it over the cub’s head and snatched him up quickly, muffling his small but menacing snarls. It took some maneuvering, but he was finally able to see the cub had suffered a wound to his left front leg. The only thing he could think of using on the cub’s minor wound was honey. Whether honey worked on wolves as it did on humans, he didn’t know, but it was all he knew to do for the little fellow. With the cub tucked under his arm, and the pelt still covering his head to keep him from biting him, Cree looked around and found a small crock of honey. He sat on a bench and with more hasty maneuvering got the honey smeared heavily on the wound, though not without snarls from the cub.

When he finished, he placed the cub on the ground and snatched the pelt off him. The little cub rushed back beneath the safety of the bed, sticking his head out and snapping at Cree.

“That’s the appreciation I get for helping you?” Cree said with a snarl of his own and the cub turned silent.

Cree realized it wasn’t him who caused the cub’s sudden silence. It was the howl of a wolf in the distance that silenced the cub and had him returning the howl, louder than Cree expected. He took his leave without hesitation, thinking the cub’s response would surely bring a wolf and by sheer luck, he found his way back to the keep.

Cree pounded on the door. “Open up!”

“I feared you got lost,” Olwen said, her eyes round with worry after opening the door.

“I almost did,” Cree confessed and thought to tell her about the cub but stopped. It was better he kept the incident to himself, at least for now, though he would tell his wife.

“I will take you back to your wife. You can eat and rest and hopefully the heavy mist will be gone by morning,” she said and took the torch from him to return to the bracer.

Cree did not like hearing that the mist might continue to linger. He wanted to leave this strange place as soon as possible and get his wife home where his skilled healer, Elsa, could care for her.

“Does heavy mist usually last a day or more around here?” he asked.

“It has been known to last a week,” Olwen said.

Cree liked hearing that even less. He would not be happy spending a week here. And what would the clan leader say about his unexpected guests? Would he welcome them, or would he find disfavor with them? He decided to find out what he could about the clan laird.

“Your clan laird may not welcome a lengthy stay from my wife and I.”

“Lord Tiernan is a good man but a man whose commands are obeyed without question and that includes any guests who stay here,” Olwen warned.

“Then he is much like myself, for I rule the same way,” Cree said, not one to bow to another’s command though honorable enough to respect another man’s command in his own home… within reason.

A lone howl penetrated the keep’s stone walls, silencing them both.

“That sounded close,” Cree said.

“That howl calls out to find a lost wolf,” Olwen said.

“You can distinguish the various howls?” Cree asked, surprised and curious.

Olwen nodded. “I have heard them since I was young. I know the different howls. They are beautiful in their own way and deadly in other ways.”

“Wolves are dangerous animals,” Cree said, pointing out the obvious.

Olwen voiced her own opinion. “They are no different than people. They protect their pack as humans protect their clan. They hunt together, making sure all in the pack are fed just as clans hunt and store food to keep their people fed, and when one of their own is in danger, they do whatever is necessary to save him or her just as clans do.”

“You speak as if wolves are more human than animal.”

“Their instincts are the same—protect what is theirs,” Olwen said, coming to a stop in front of the bedchamber where Dawn rested.

“OLWEN!”

The forceful shout echoed through the keep, causing Olwen to jump in fright, though not Cree. He braced himself, ready to defend himself and Dawn if necessary.

“Lord Tiernan has returned,” Olwen said anxiously.

“I should go meet him,” Cree said and hurried to peek into the bedchamber to make sure his wife was as he left her. She looked to be resting comfortably, a soothing rise and fall of breath to her body, and he shut the door, eager to meet the clan leader and judge for himself what type of man he was.

“Morning might be better for you to meet with Lord Tiernan,” Olwen suggested as if reluctant.

Cree had no intention of waiting until morning. “That would not be right of me to do, showing up here and spending the night without making myself known to him. Now lead the way.”

“OLWEN!”

“Lord Tiernan grows impatient, and I do not blame him. Now take me to him,” Cree ordered with a scowl that had Olwen hurrying to do as he commanded.

Cree thought she would take him to the Great Hall, but she led him down another narrow passageway and stopped in front of one of two doors.

“You will wait here while I speak with him,” she instructed and did not wait for a response. She entered the room.

Cree remained rooted to the spot where she left him, staying silent so he could hear anything that might be said. Unfortunately, he heard nothing. He feared meeting no man, though most men feared meeting him, his reputation often preceding him, and he did not mind that they did. It often gave him the advantage.

Olwen opened the door and stepped to the side. “Lord Tiernan will see you now.”

Cree entered the room and Olwen hurried out, shutting the door behind her. The room was not well lit. A large fire in the stone hearth provided most of the light but only to half of the room. The other half was immersed in darkness.

Cree went to the hearth, turning to stare into the darkness, the only place Lord Tiernan could be. If the man had evil intentions, Cree would be ready for him. If he remained silent, in an attempt to intimidate Cree, he was doomed to fail.

“The fog can be dangerous in these parts.”

Lord Tiernan continued to conceal himself but that did not bother Cree. “Which is why I am grateful for your generous hospitality in allowing my wife and I to shelter here, Lord Tiernan.”

“How could I deny the infamous Lord Cree?”

“You have me at a disadvantage, Lord Tiernan. You have heard of me while I have not heard of you.”

“We are a small clan, known to a few trusted friends, and we tend to keep to ourselves.”

“I regret having to intrude on your privacy, but it could not be helped. My wife was injured and needs rest before she can travel again,” Cree said, making it clear that he had no intentions of going anywhere just yet, whether the man liked it or not.

“I would be remiss and unkind to turn someone away in a time of need. You are welcome in my home until your wife is well enough to travel. You have no warriors with you?”

“I do, two dozen skilled warriors, but the fog separated us, though not for lack of trying to remain together. I am sure once the fog recedes enough, they will search and find us and no doubt their efforts will lead them here,” Cree said, purposely letting the man know he had warriors who would search for them in case the man had any ill intent toward him.

“They would be wise to remain sheltered until the fog clears completely. The wolves love to hunt in the fog.”

“My men are superior warriors?—”

“No warrior is superior to a wolf when he hunts. He stalks like no other and attacks when least expected.”

Cree did not budge when Lord Tiernan suddenly emerged from the darkness, though for a moment, he thought the man’s eyes glowed a bright green then realized it had been the fire’s flames playing tricks. However, he was surprised by the man’s stunning features. He had a bold handsomeness to him that could not easily be ignored. It caught the eye and kept you focused on him, almost mesmerized by his exceptional good looks. His black hair fell just past his broad shoulders, and he was tall, though not as tall as Cree, and his body was lean with muscle.

“Since you know of my reputation, than you are aware that my warriors are exceptional and can hold their own against any foe,” Cree said.

A knock sounded at the door and Lord Tiernan called out, “Enter.”

A young woman with pretty features and soft red hair entered and Cree could see she was clearly upset.

“We cannot find him,” she said, looking close to tears.

“Worry not, Brigid, we will find Tade,” Lord Tiernan assured her.

“A bairn is lost? I can help search for him,” Cree offered.

“My clan will see to it,” Lord Tiernan said, “but I thank you for the offer.”

“How old is the bairn?” Cree asked.

“Four years,” Brigid said, a tear slipping down her cheek.

“That is young to be alone out in the foggy night,” Cree said and almost thought against telling them about his encounter with the wolf cub, but if the wolves hunted for one of their own that was lost it could very well bring the pack to the village. “Olwen mentioned that the wolves hunt for a lost wolf. You should know that I came across a young wolf cub in your village when I got lost returning to the keep after sheltering my horse. He was injured and I managed to get some honey on the wound then he buried himself beneath the bed where he was hiding. His pack may come for him.”

“Where was this?” Brigid asked anxiously, her eyes wide with worry.

“A dwelling I found myself in when I seemed to get turned around after leaving the stable,” Cree said. “The place had wolf hides covering most of the walls. He must be a fine hunter to have gathered so many pelts.”

“Dolan’s dwelling,” Brigid said, “I will go alert him, my lord.” She turned to Cree, her eyes stirring with more worry. “Did the wolf cub bite you?”

“Nay. I threw a wolf pelt over his head while I tended to his wound, though that did not stop him from trying to bite me. He is a brave one.” Cree thought he caught the woman smile, but it was too brief to be sure.

The door swung open.

“We still cannot find him,” a man who looked similar to Lord Tiernan, though lacked his bold handsomeness, rushed in and stopped when he spotted Cree.

Brigid hurried to his side. “There is a wounded cub in the village. This man,” —she nodded at Cree— “came across him in Dolan’s dwelling and tended his wound. We should go make sure the cub is removed and placed where his pack can find him.”

“Go now,” Lord Tiernan ordered.

Cree caught the questioning look the man sent Lord Tiernan and the brief and almost undetectable response. Something was going on here and unless it could harm him and Dawn, he wanted no part of it.

The man and woman left, and Cree was anxious to return to Dawn, so he was glad for what Lord Tiernan said next.

“It is late, and I must join the hunt for the little lad. I will speak with you tomorrow.”

It was something Cree would have said himself, though more forcefully, leaving no doubt at all that the person should take his leave.

“Again, I am grateful to you for allowing us to remain here, and I wish you luck in finding the bairn,” Cree said and walked to the door.

“I have no doubt we will find him,” Lord Tiernan said confidently.

Cree thought the same but said nothing, he simply nodded and left the room. It didn’t surprise him to see Olwen standing outside the door.

“I will take you to your bedchamber,” she said and hurried off, leaving him to follow.

Silence lingered between them until they reached the door, and Olwen said, “I will see that the healer looks in on your wife as soon as she returns.”

“I appreciate that, Olwen, and thank you for all you have done for me and my wife tonight.”

Olwen nodded and turned, hurrying off.

Cree entered the room and went to sit down on the bed beside his wife. She continued to lay on her side, to avoid disturbing the wound on the back of her head. He ran his hand gently beneath her sleeve and along her arm resting over the blanket. He loved touching his wife’s soft skin, the intimate gesture always stirring his passion, a passion that had not dimmed since they had first met years ago. He had known he would wed, but never had he expected to love his wife with such fiery passion. Nothing would stop him from keeping her safe. Nothing. Not even wolves. He was pleased to see her eyes flutter open to look at him.

“How does your head feel?” he asked, and she cringed. He understood and voiced what she felt. “It hurts.”

She tapped his arm once.

“Rest and heal,” he said gently and stroked her arm once again. “From what I can surmise so far, we are safe here.” He wanted to tell her about what had happened since their arrival and get her thoughts on it. But it would have to wait until she was more rested and feeling better.

Her eyes drifted closed, and Cree leaned down and brushed his lips over her warm cheek in a soft kiss. His brow creased after kissing her and he sniffed along his wife’s face and her hair. A scent lingered on her, and he sniffed closer, glad she had fallen asleep.

The scent was a bit familiar to him, but where he had smelled it before he couldn’t recall. He sniffed a bit more then left the bed to fill a tankard with ale. He stopped and turned to glance at his wife. It came to him then, why the scent was familiar. Only this similar one was more potent… it was the scent on Beast when his fur got damp.

An animal had been in the room during his absence.