Of Gifts and the Goddess

Chapter 4

4

Watching to see her honesty, Duncan asked, “Who are you?” He crouched down next to her legs in order to see her better in the dim light of the campfire.

Several responses passed through her mind. Would he want honesty? A lie? In her heart, she knew who he was, and she knew he knew her identity. Could she fool the Fates by cloaking herself in another persona? She scowled, as she doubted anything but the truth would satisfy him.

“Anne McCleary,” she stated, her chin raised in challenge.

Her eyes had turned a darker green in the flickering flame of the fire. Duncan watched her, knowing the pause was her hesitation to answer his question truthfully. He gave her credit for the honest response, though he ground his teeth at her contemplated defiance.

“What have you to say about the slaughter of five and twenty sheep, leaving only a pile of bones and the heads, the stealing of grain from a locked storehouse, the burning of huts in the villages on O’Connor land that led to the death of twelve people?” The last was spit out in disgust. He watched her carefully for any sign of guilt or denial. What he saw was surprise.

“You think we’ve stolen grain and killed sheep? Should we be guilty, would we be near starving? And the burning of huts? What reason would there be for that? The things you accuse us of would only be done through cunning and savagery.”

“You think sneaking in here to steal food is not cunning? To use our weapons against us not savagery?” Duncan said through his teeth, his gray eyes darkening along with his mood.

Anne ducked her head at the truth of his words and mumbled her response, “We thought only for a bite of food. Weapons would not have been drawn, except in self-defense.”

Listening intently to pick up her quiet words, the hardness of his scowl softened slightly. He cast a glance over his shoulder at her clan huddled in their rags, eating hungrily. Looking back at her, he remembered the bony hips and thin wrists. He also remembered the buzzing. Shaking his head over the strangeness of it, he got up quickly and walked to where the rabbit had been removed from the spit and was laying beside the fire.

Retrieving his knife from the sheath at his waist, he crouched down to slice some meat, laying a few stringy slabs on a cloth. Standing, he glanced at her, only to see her attention drawn to the forest off to her left. Had they missed one of her clan? Were there more of the murdering bastards in the brush hoping to take him and his men by surprise?

He stalked back towards her with his knife hidden behind his right leg, the food in his left hand. Walking carefully, he tried not to alert whoever might be in the dark. At his approach, her head snapped around, a guilty expression showed on her face before she ducked her head again, her hair closing off her countenance. He glanced into the dark, but didn’t see anything. He was quickly growing tired of the game.

Setting the meat at her knee, he showed his knife and called into the dark, “I know you’re there. Show yourself.” He was met with silence. “I’ll come in with my knife drawn, ready to drink your blood. Show yourself!” he rumbled.

His soldiers turned and stared. Rarely had they heard their laird raise his voice, much less threaten violence to another.

Not wanting Brave to be injured, Anne whistled, two short low notes followed by a short high note. Duncan c****d his head, tightened the grip on his knife, and bent his knees for the rush from the bushes. He held his breath as the branches of several bushes and ferns rustled. What he saw next, he couldn’t believe.

Brave inched forward. He smelled the cooking meat and couldn’t stay where She had told him. Hearing the whistle of his beloved person, he came into the clearing. His large, shaggy head reached the circle of light, followed by his tall shoulders, then his lame hind end. He took one look at the tall man with the weapon and bared his teeth, a low growl rumbling in his massive chest.

Duncan tensed, sure the beast would charge him at any moment. Three short whistles from behind him ended the growl. The beast lowered his head and, giving Duncan a wide berth, used three legs and dragged his fourth to where Anne sat at the base of the tree behind him. He turned his body to keep It in front of him in case of a change of heart and the beast decided to follow up on his threat. As the animal made its way towards Anne, the excuse for a tail wagged. At least, that is what Duncan thought the movement was. Anne’s hands were tied to her sides, so she couldn’t rub his great head. The beast dragged itself right to Anne’s chest, where she dropped her head to the animal’s and whispered reassuringly.

Duncan gathered his wits and asked, “What in bloody hell is that?”

Anne glanced up sharply. Her clan had grown used to Brave. She couldn’t remember the last time a stranger had set eyes on him. “He is Brave,” she answered, as if stating that was enough clarification.

Noticing that the animal not only belonged to Anne but seemed fond of her, he relaxed his stance and reworded his question. “What is ‘Brave’, Anne?”

“A hound of some sort. I found him.”

She nuzzled the dog who sat, Duncan guessed, with little coordination, in front of and somewhat on top of, Anne’s lap. Brave raised his eyes to look at Duncan, trusting him more now that the knife was sheathed.

“If you will promise not to try anything, or send Brave after me, I’ll loosen your bindings for you to eat.” Duncan moved forward and around the tree at Anne’s almost imperceptible nod.

Once her hands were freed, she plowed them into Brave’s fur, pulled him closer, and rubbed his neck.

“Is there any other member of your clan I’ve yet to meet? Someone else who perhaps is waiting in the trees to attack?”

Anne didn’t lift her head as she gave it a small shake. It was all she could bring herself to do.

Duncan stalked away, trying to clear his head. The capture had not gone at all how he’d thought. He was glad for the lack of bloodshed, but he had more questions than answers. If Anne indeed answered him honestly, he was no closer to finding the thieves and killers than before he set out to find the McClearys.