Fergal poked at the fire pit that fueled his inn’s makeshift forge. “That’s quite a story,” he said. “So these descendants of druids and gods have been around us for centuries, hiding in the fringes?”

  “‘Gods’ might be a bit strong of a term,” Brendan said. “At least compared to the Catholic God. But the Tuatha Dé had a whole host of abilities.”

  “And you have to stay hidden?” Fergal asked.

  “There’s no rule or law to it,” Maeve said. “It’s simply easier when we do. There are long stretches of time—sometimes centuries—during which there’s no need for us to flirt with public exposure. But once in a while one side or another gets some notions and things need to be addressed.”

  “I thought you lot were the good people and the Fomori were evil,” Fergal said.

  “Ferg, things are rarely that simple,” Maeve said. “There are times—rare aul’ times—when certain sílrad think putting an end to all Fomori is in everyone’s interest. And while the Fomori often follow darker paths to reach their goals, there are many who share ancestors from both sides—just like our gods of old.”

  “Are we in one of these darker times?” Fergal asked.

  “Feels like it,” Brigid said. “I can tell you we didn’t start things this time.”

  “How many normal people like me know what you’ve told me?” Fergal asked.

  “I wouldn’t call you normal,” Brigid said with a smile, “but the answer is not many. Some families have members with no powers. There will be branches and boughs of certain families that know and keep their ancestors’ secrets.”

  “Once someone is born without powers, is that it?” Fergal asked. “That line is normal?”

  “Sometimes,” Maeve said. “It can skip a generation. But if keeps up that way for a few more generations after that, well, it’s unlikely anyone after them will develop these abilities.”

  Fergal bobbed his head at the fire. He furrowed his brow and looked up at Maeve. “Is there any way to know if your family was sílrad in the past?” he asked.

  “I’m afraid not,” Maeve said. “Ferg, I know what you’re getting at. I have to be straight with ya: if this is the first you’re hearing about all of this, then there is likely no sílrad in you.”

  “Hai,” Fergal said as he hung his head. “That’s what I was afraid of.”

  “It’s nothing to hang your head over,” Maeve said. “You don’t have to be descended from Cú Chulainn or Ogma to be brave and good. You’ve shown that to us several times over the past few days.”

  A groan sounded from the nearby shed, surrounded by the contents formerly stored inside it. “You couldn’t have done this in the common room?” the sorceress asked through the shed walls.

  “We needed to keep you two where we can see you,” Maeve said.

  “You can see through walls, now?” the lady said.

  “Can’t you?” Maeve said. “I thought you had magic.”

  Another groan. “Can we please go to Tyrone already?” the sorceress asked. “Unless your people there are going to sit next to our cells and use this same manner of banter to torture us.”

  “And what if they do?” Brigid asked.

  The shed fell silent for a minute. “In earnest,” the man inside muttered, “I’ve gone through worse than this.”

  “Whist!” the sorceress whispered.

  The elder MacDavett entered the courtyard from the kitchen bearing three bags. “This should last you until Derry,” he said, “or damn near Belfast if you decide to ration it and starve your traveling companions in there.”

  He handed Maeve a folded piece of parchment. “Should you decide to stay at an inn along the way, show them this. It should smooth things over with most of the keepers along your way. This plan of yours to camp outside of town most nights seems silly to me. The smell’s not as bad as you make it out to be.”

  Maeve smiled and clapped the man’s upper left arm. “You know yourself that it is, sir,” she said, “but that’s not the reason. We don’t want to draw undue attention to ourselves on the way back. We paraded them through the streets of Rathmullan as proof for the people here that they need not fear the forests or the nights anymore.”

  “I still don’t understand how you can be so certain,” Mr. MacDavett said. “I was hoping one of you could explain it all to me before you left.”

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  “I can!” yelled the woman in the shed.

  Brigid slammed the heel of her fist against the shed wall.

  “At the moment, however, getting that one out of town is higher on my list of wants than knowing what happened,” he said.

  Brigid grabbed the elder’s right hand with both of hers. “Mr. MacDavett, we appreciate everything you’ve done for us,” she said. “Know that we couldn’t have done this without Fergal’s help. Without him, we would have failed. You raised a good man.”

  A tinge of red washed over the cheeks of both father and son. The elder beamed as he looked to his child.

  “You even paid those people to get our horses back,” Brendan said. “Very gracious of you.”

  “They shouldn’t have charged you in the first place, for all the good you’ve done them,” Mr. MacDavett said. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get you any other horses to help your journey.”

  “Not at all,” Maeve said. “We’ll be back someday on a happier occasion.”

  “That’s grand,” Mr. MacDavett said. He eyed each of them—Brigid, Brendan, Maeve, and Brigid again—and backed away.

  Maeve spoke up as he turned to leave, “Sir,” she said, “someday you will know more about what happened here. When Fergal trusts that you’re ready to hear it.”

  “He knows?” the elder asked.

  “Hai, he does. Because we trusted that he was ready to hear it from us.”

  Mr. MacDavett pursed his lips and nodded. He offered a final, lazy wave and left down the main corridor.

  Fergal helped the trio ready their horses and swung open the large wooden gate. He fetched two lengths of rope for Maeve as she opened the shed door.

  “That was dreadful,” the sorceress said.

  “I have enough here for both a lead and a gag,” Maeve said. She wrapped a lead around the rope wrist bindings that secured the two prisoners. She placed the woman’s lead in Brendan’s hands.

  The sorceress grinned and stepped directly in front of him. “We’re sharing a horse? Maybe the trip won’t be so bad.”

  “No,” Brendan said, “we were—”

  “—going to ride and let you two walk beside us the first bit of the way?” Brigid said as she rolled her eyes and grabbed the lead from her brother’s hand. “That’s what he meant to say.”

  Maeve walked up to Brendan and leaned in. “Is this going to be a problem?” she asked him.

  “Sorry?” he said.

  “She’s had you flustered from the first time she spoke to you,” she said.

  “You might be right,” he said. “She throws me off.”

  “She knows it,” Maeve said. “It’s one of her games. She tried it on Fergal.”

  Brendan jerked his head backward. “She did?” Brendan asked. “How’d he respond to it?”

  “Better than you did,” she said.

  “Hai, he might have other things on his mind, though,” he said with a nod to their host.

  Fergal and Brigid shared a smile as he finished securing supplies to her saddle fifteen feet from where Maeve stood.

  “So he might,” she said.

  “I don’t know, Maeve,” Brendan said. “I get the sense that there’s more to her beneath the surface.”

  Maeve threw her head back and released a laugh from her stomach. “Do you, now?”

  “Maybe being around our kind will show her a better path to take,” he said.

  Maeve gave Brendan a shove in both shoulders. “Cop yourself on, O’Cahan! Less than a day and she’s got you on her hook.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not,” Brendan said. “You could give me some slack and trust that I’ll be careful.”

  “I could,” Maeve said. “But I can’t risk that. Your sister and I will watch her. You can work out the dowry on the way back with her da’s friend.”

  “Leave the jokes to me, O’Connor,” he said.

  Maeve stared at him until he laughed.

  “Fine,” he said. “You got me.”

  She laughed and beckoned for Fergal with a wave. “If you ever tire of the locals selling you short, you come find us. Likewise if you ever need our help. We’ll come.”

  “You can count on it,” Fergal said. “I’d just need to know my da’s taken care of first.”

  “Of course you do,” Brendan said. “Maybe we can help with that, too.”

  “You all are welcome whenever you come through town,” Fergal said. “I have to warn you that your money won’t be.”

  “Fair trade,” Maeve said. “We’ll send Brigid over for her farewell.”

  “If you must,” Fergal said with a smile.

  The pair walked back to the horses, each grabbing a lead from Brigid’s hand before climbing atop their mounts.

  “I was right about you from the start,” Brigid said as she nudged the dirt with her right foot.

  “I appreciate you three proving me right to my father,” Fergal said. “I’m sorry to see you go.”

  She hopped forward and squeezed him. It was so abrupt that Fergal barely freed his arms in time to reciprocate. “We’ll see you soon enough,” she said as she let go of the porter and patted both of his arms. “Take care, Fergal MacDavett.”

  He nodded and flashed her a narrow grin.

  Brigid swung a leg over her saddle and the group turned south to head out of town.

  “Sure look,” Brendan said to Maeve. “I don’t suppose you’d want to stay for longer than a day once we arrive at—” He glanced down at the captives walking alongside them. “—y’know, the place we’re going.”

  Maeve chuckled. “I appreciate that, Brendan, I really do,” she said, “but I went through a lot of arrows in the past few days. I need to see a smithy in Dunfanaghy about restocking. Probably couldn’t hurt to have a second set of trained eyes look my bow over.”

  “Are you sure you need a blacksmith for that?” Brigid asked. “Even if you did, there are a hundred smithies between Dunfanaghy and where we’re going.”

  “You’re right,” Maeve said, “but I think I found a new one that I like. I should give him a chance.”

  Maeve O'Connor, Brigid O'Cahan, Brendan O'Cahan and Fergal MacDavett will return.

  Wolf Hunt was only supposed to be another 10,000 word short story but I had so much fun exploring these new characters.

  Tale 3: The Window as I finish the final touches on Book 2 (Title TBD). So follow Scions of the Tuatha Dé to know when the latest chapters are published.