“We truly have to wait here until dark?” Brendan asked.

  Maeve swallowed her bite of bread and cleared her throat.

  “I’m not saying we can’t make a move until the sun’s gone,” she said. “Everything we’ve learned about these people and their creatures tells us they run loose at night. If we spent all day searching these woods, we’re more likely to wear ourselves out in time for them to hit us when we are too weary for a fair fight.”

  “We’re in the right place, though?” Brendan asked Fergal.

  “I’m not sure there is a ‘right’ place,” Fergal said. “People don’t see the wolves, just the people controlling them.”

  “Then what made you choose this place?” Brigid asked.

  “Honestly? It’s roughly halfway between that fairy circle and town,” Fergal said. “Anyone that talks about this is either too scared to keep track of where they were—or too scared to give specifics. I’m sorry, hai.”

  “No need for that,” Brendan said. “You’ve been more of a help to us than anyone else in two lands.”

  Brendan shrugged himself into a grin.

  “Besides, it will give those two someone other than myself to blame if it doesn’t work out.”

  Brigid tore a coin-sized piece off of her bread and threw it at her brother.

  “Wasteful!” Brendan said as he popped the piece into his mouth. “What would Father say?”

  “To keep your gob shut while you’re eating,” Brigid said.

  “Children, if it’s all the same to you I’d like to discuss the plan for this evening,” Maeve said. “The sun’s dropping fast.”

  Brigid and Brendan nodded and leaned closer to Maeve.

  “Of course, fithidir,” Brendan said after an exaggerated bow.

  Maeve sighed.

  “Fergal brought us to a better place than he knows,” Maeve said. “If my memory of the trip down serves, there’s a narrow river less than a mile ahead of us and a road that follows it. We’re going to follow that river north into the hills. If there’s any wolf left in these beasts, they’ll have dug their dens into a south facing slope, or under whatever tree, boulder or bank they could find nearby.”

  “That’s a big if,” Brigid said.

  “And that’s not even our biggest unknown,” Brendan said. “We don’t know what manner of camp their masters have, and how close it would be to their dens.”

  “And that’s if they even made a camp,” Maeve said. “Making camp often creates enough of a trail for me to follow. They may have kept it simple to avoid detection.”

  “So that’s us,” she said. “Let’s finish up and leave soon.”

  “What about the horses?” Fergal asked.

  “What about them?” Maeve asked.

  “If we’re going to be wandering through the woods, I can’t imagine we’d be on horseback much,” Fergal said. “It’s more likely that we’d lead them to their slaughter when we come across those monsters.”

  “So we just leave them here to get nabbed—or worse—when we’re not around.” Brendan said. “That doesn’t sound better.”

  “How much coin do you have left?” Fergal asked.

  “Maybe enough for a few more days here and a night’s rest on the way home,” Brigid said. “Maeve here doesn’t carry much. Why?”

  “There was that house half of a mile behind us,” he said. “It had a fenced-in area. May not be perfect, but if we can trade some of your money and some of the services at my inn, it would be the safest option we have.”

  Maeve wrinkled her face as she weighed the options. None of them thrilled her. Fergal’s idea offered the least amount of risk but they’d have to double back and then do all of their tracking and fighting on foot—and that’s if the owner accepted their offer in the first place.

  The sun’s light had begun to turn orange; a decision was required. Maeve eyed the twins.

  “Brig?”

  “Fergal’s plan,” Brigid sad.

  “And you?”

  “Same,” Brendan said with a nod.

  “We’re agreed, then,” Maeve said. “Fergal, you’re the local and Brigid, you’re—”

  Maeve waved her hand in Brigid’s general direction.

  “—you. You two take the horses back up the road and see what deal you can work out. The brother and myself will head to the river. If you can’t work something out, bring the horses there and we’ll have to choose the manner in which we put them at risk. Any questions?”

  “Just one,” Brendan said. “It might be easier if three people move the horses. Should I go with them and let you scout ahead?”

  “You stay here,” Maeve said. “Because you’re… you.”

  “There they are,” Brendan said. “They were gone long enough to sit down for a meal with those people.”

  Maeve shifted her gaze from the river to the road leading southwest. The morning clouds vanished from the northeast sky hours ago. Shadows from the trees on the right side of the road touched the shore on its left side. What little sunlight broke through the tree cover flickered on Brigid and Fergal as they approached without the horses.

  Well, at least that’s settled, Maeve thought.

  The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

  “No problems?” she asked.

  “Quite the opposite,” Brigid said. “When Fergal told them we were going after the wolves, the man laughed and said we didn’t have to pay anything now. Either we were going to succeed and rid these creatures—after which and he’d gladly accept a small bit of coin—or these things will eat us and he’d have four new horses.”

  Brendan smiled.

  “Can’t argue with that logic,” he said. “Nothing else for it. Who’s leading, Maeve or Fergal?”

  The porter knitted his brow.

  “There is a line where politeness becomes patronizing,” Fergal said. “You all have been grand at staying on the right side of it and I’d ask you to keep doing so.”

  He turned to Maeve and gestured toward the forest.

  Brigid’s right, Maeve thought. He’s no stump.

  “I meant no offense by it,” Brendan said as he followed Maeve. “I like you being around, MacDavett.”

  The men shared a smile. Brigid leaned in to Fergal and flicked her head toward Brendan.

  “I hope it’s clear by now that our twinship is not identical,” she said.

  Fergal let out a single compressed laugh.

  “Lass, I’ve been aware of that from our first conversation at the inn.”

  With a smile and a nod, she started up the side road next to the river. Fergal caught Brendan eyeing them over his shoulder.

  “I meant no offense by it, Brendan,” Fergal yelled ahead.

  Brigid giggled. Maeve, however, spun on her heel.

  “When did we change the plan to ‘make tons of noise so our adversaries find us first?’” Maeve asked.

  The others cast their eyes to the ground.

  “Until now this entire chase has been academic,” Maeve said. “Tracks and carcasses. Rumors and traces of remnant—”

  She almost frustrated enough to slip up in front of Fergal.

  “Y’know, things,” she said.

  Brendan shot her a look. He had stored that moment for a later discussion. Maeve reset her thoughts with a head shake.

  “We’re closing in on these animals,” she said. “We may even see them tonight. They are very real and have killed people before—people who knew how to defend themselves. If you’re head isn’t in this then you’re putting yourselves and each other in peril.”

  She allowed enough time to let her words sink in before moving on.

  “Weapons out. Brigid, you trail. Brendan’s behind me.”

  She leaned close to Brendan as he took his assigned place.

  “I need your best,” she said. “Tell me the moment you sense something out of the ordinary. We need every available second possible to react.”

  Brendan’s expression sobered.

  “You got it, boss.”

  In truth, they spent little time walking in single file. Maeve walked on the right side of the road and kept Brigid on the left flank scanning the river banks for holes and tracks. The river veered from the roadside after two miles, leaving the group to weave in between the oak and hazel trees.

  The sun now hid under the horizon and most of the tree-creepers, jays, and ravens had already retired for the night. Maeve heard little happening below the branches—as she expected. In all likelihood this level of predator had driven the badgers and foxes to ground as they decimated the deer population. It would take several years for it to recover.

  And yet a rustle was heard from the forest floor a few hundred yards to their north. Maeve reached for Brendan to stop him, and he took the cue to pass the gesture on. He replied to her raised eyebrows with a head shake. He sensed nothing.

  Maeve shifted a pointed finger between Brigid and Fergal and signaled them to remain in place. She urged Brendan forward with soft smack on the shoulder and the pair tiptoed toward the origin of the sound. She slid an arrow from the quiver on her waist and knocked it on her bow string.

  They were in the general area of the noise and there was no sign of anything big or small. She turned and whispered straight into Brendan’s ear.

  “You’re sensing nothing?”

  “I wouldn’t say, ‘nothing,’” he whispered. “I don’t sense anything distinct. Just a lot of dull noise.”

  “Why don’t you try that revealing spell again?”

  “After what happened in the circle? We’re already outnumbered. If I open myself up and get overwhelmed, we’ll be outmatched without a doubt.”

  Maeve nodded.

  “If there was anything here, it’s gone. Let’s bring the others along.”

  The group followed the river’s east bank as it wound to the right. They reached the rivers origin after another mile, a small lough set in front of a grove of much older oak trees. Most of the trees were thinning; Maeve could see deep into the forest as long as her eyes pointed upward. The thick trunks and forthcoming night prevented such favorable lines of sight close to the ground.

  “Did you know this was up here?” Maeve asked Fergal.

  “I knew, but I’ve never had cause to come up into these hills,” Fergal said.

  “What do we do?” Brigid asked. “Do we stay behind the treeline and risk getting hit from cover, or do we put ourselves out in the open so we can see in all directions?”

  “If they were behind us, they’d have pounced on us by now,” Maeve said. “Let’s circle the lough behind the treeline for a while. Eventually, though, we’ll cross in the open. Brig, you keep an eye into the forest behind us and to our right. Brendan?”

  He pointed to the older section of the forest.

  “Nothing specific,” he said. “But you didn’t need me to tell you to check the creepy part of the forest.”

  She smiled.

  “Glad we’re agreed,” Maeve said. “I’ll be eyeing a place to cross. Fergal, is there anything else you can tell us about this part?”

  “There are two more loughs to the north and east,” he said. “Neither is bigger than this one. It’s not much, I know.”

  “It's not, but that’s fine,” Maeve said. “Let’s move—and keep it quiet.”

  The lough itself was three hundred yards long, and it was a matter of minutes before the group had a straight path to the old forest. Brigid, Fergal and Brendan fell in behind Maeve as she scanned the far side of the lough.

  “Is this where we cross out in the open?” Fergal asked.

  Brendan’s left foot tripped on an exposed tree root. He used his staff to keep himself from falling to the ground, but his right foot landed on a fallen branch hard enough to crack it. A grimace pinched his entire face as if the branch were a nail, but Maeve knew better. She showed Brendan the mercy of a glare from just the side of her eye and returned her attention to Fergal.

  “It is now,” she said.

  The foursome skirted the edge of the lough and entered the old forest. The bark of each tree was covered in lines deep enough to touch the base of Maeve’s fingernails. The ground was dry yet the musty smell of rotted wood filled the air.

  As they pressed further up the hill, she glanced back at her comrades. Brendan’s left hand kept his staff off the ground while his right hovered at chin height, ready for a quick flick of magic. Even in the fading twilight she could see the whites of Fergal’s eyes as he kept both hands at the base of his club. Maeve held her spear with a slight wringing motion near her chest.

  A shadow several dozen yards ahead of Maeve flitted between the trees into the distance on her left, away from the other loughs Fergal mentioned.

  Best not to take any chances, Maeve thought. Track that down first.

  “Maeve!” Brigid hissed. “Was that—”

  A low growl from the right interrupted the conversation.

  “Move!” Maeve yelled.

  Maeve guessed her aim based on sound of the wolf’s approaching steps and loosed an arrow. It would have struck a wolf of conventional size in its right shoulder. This time, however, the arrow passed under its belly and struck the tree behind it.

  Fergal’s quip about the the remains in Ballykenny being a bear was closer to reality than Maeve expected. It was a wolf and a half. Its shape was uneven and its muscles bulged in odd places. Its eyes glowed green in the early night as if it reflected a campfire. The animal slowed its pace and bared its teeth at Brigid. It barked as she thrust her spear into its left shoulder. The beast stood in place and growled but showed little sign of injury.

  “I hit it square but it’s barely scratched!” Brigid said. “We might need to use—"

  “—Keep its attention,” Maeve said as she drew her bowstring.

  Her next arrow hit the upper edge of the the wolf’s right shoulder, eliciting a whimper from the beast.

  “Three inches deep at the most,” Brigid said. “For you, that's also a scratch.”

  Brendan moved his right hand out of reflex but hesitated before casting a spell. He raised his staff to strike the creature but Fergal beat him to it. The porter struck the wolf in the side of its snout and then clubbed the top of its head with an overhand strike.

  The wolf hopped back and shook its head several times. Fergal smiled.

  “It’ll take some doing, but we can get it,” he said. “We’ve got this thing outnumbered four to—”

  A bark sounded from behind the group.

  Maeve’s concern over that fleeting shadow was well-founded. A second wolf emerged from that direction and charged toward Fergal, leaping at him as he turned around.

  “Bloscaid talam!” Brendan said.

  A column of earth four feet in width burst from the ground in front of Fergal and knocked the second wolf into the air.