Brighid's Quest

Brighid’s brows went up. “And who told them about that, Cu?”

Cuchulainn shrugged and kneed the gelding to follow Gareth’s path. “They asked. And they can be very persistent when they want to know something.”

“They being Curran and Nevin?” Brighid asked his broad back.

“No. They being the children.”

And then a noise drifted to the Huntress’s acute hearing. She thought it sounded like the chattering of many birds.

Cuchulainn’s horse’s ears pricked forward. “Remember that I forewarned you about the children,” he called over his shoulder.

Brighid frowned severely at the warrior’s back. Forewarned her? He hadn’t forewarned her about anything—he’d just asked if she liked children. What in the darkest realm of the Underworld was going on here?

They took another turn in the path and the trail opened up. Brighid moved quickly so that she was beside Cuchulainn. The road widened and led straight into the heart of the neat little settlement, which was currently filled with small winged bodies chattering excitedly. When they caught sight of her, the children’s talking was instantly replaced by a collective gasp that reminded Brighid of the coo of doves.

“Oh, great merciful Goddess,” the Huntress murmured. “There are so many of them.”

“I tried to tell you,” Cuchulainn said under his breath. “Prepare yourself. They are as energetic as they are small.”

“But how can there be so many?” Her eyes were roving the group as she tried to get an accurate count…ten…twenty…forty. There were at least forty young bodies. “I thought you said there were less than one hundred hybrids in total. Do they have multiple births?”

“No. Not usually. Most of these children no longer have parents,” the warrior said grimly.

“But—”

“Later,” Cuchulainn said. “I’ll explain it all later. They won’t stay still much longer.”

“What are they going to do?” Brighid asked warily.

The warrior gave her the briefest of smiles. “Nothing you can defend yourself against, believe me.”

The waiting group rippled and Cuchulainn caught sight of Ciara’s dark head.

“Come on. It’s best to face them head-on.”

Side by side Cu and Brighid came to a halt before the waiting group just as a lovely winged woman stepped out to greet them.

Cuchulainn made hasty introductions. “Ciara, this is MacCallan’s Huntress, Brighid Dhianna. Brighid, Ciara is Shaman for the New Fomorians.” He gestured at the two winged men who had followed Ciara through the children. “And, you will remember Curran and Nevin.”

The twins nodded their heads, smiling widely at her. She was instantly struck by how well they looked. The last time she’d seen them their wings had been dreadfully torn. Now they looked whole and healthy, with only pale pink lines scarring the delicate membranes. One of the twins spoke, but Brighid had no idea whether it was Curran or Nevin.

“It is good to see you again, Huntress.”

“We are all so pleased that you have come, Brighid Dhianna, famed Huntress of the MacCallans,” Ciara said.

Brighid tried not to be distracted by the horde of watching children, even though her eyes were drawn to their small faces. All different sizes and shapes, they were beaming sharp-toothed smiles at her as their wings quivered with barely suppressed excitement. Puppies, she thought. They looked like a wriggling mass of healthy, happy, winged puppies.

Pulling her gaze from the children she nodded politely first to Ciara and then the twins. “The MacCallan thought you might need a Huntress to ease the burden of feeding your people during your journey. I was glad to be of service to her,” Brighid said.

“And now I understand why I have dreamed of a silver hawk with gold-tipped wings these past several nights,” Ciara said, looking from the Huntress’s silver-white hair to the golden gleam of her equine coat.

Brighid kept her face carefully neutral, but the mention of the Shaman’s dream was like a fist to her gut. Even here, in the far off Wastelands, she could not escape her childhood.

“Oooh, you are even more beautiful than I imagined!”

The Huntress’s eyes sought and found the miniature speaker—a small girl child standing near Ciara. Her wings were an unusual silver-gray, like the breast of a dove. Her large eyes were bright with intelligence.

“Thank you,” Brighid said.

“That is Kyna,” Cuchulainn said.

At the mention of her name the child bobbed excitedly on her tiptoes.

“Cuchulainn, can I come closer? Please! Pllllease!”

Cu looked questioningly at the Huntress. Not knowing what else to do, Brighid shrugged.

“Come on then,” Cu said. As the child sprinted forward with several of the other children close behind, Cuchulainn lifted his hand and said sternly, “Remember your manners!”

Kyna’s headlong rush instantly slowed and the children jostling behind her almost knocked her over. Brighid had to be careful not to laugh when the girl elbowed one of her friends and ordered, “Remember your manners!” sounding unerringly like Cuchulainn. She folded her little wings and walked much more sedately to stand in front of Brighid.

“You’re the famous Huntress Cuchulainn’s told us stories about, aren’t you?” The little girl’s face was bright with more than just the Fomorian’s distinctive luminous skin. She was a beautiful, fey-looking little thing, sparkling with intelligence and curiosity.

“Well, I am the Huntress Brighid. I don’t know how famous I am, though,” Brighid said, throwing Cuchulainn a look of mild annoyance.

“Oh, we do! We’ve heard all about you!”

“Really? You’ll have to share those stories with me,” Brighid said.

“Not now,” Cuchulainn said brusquely. “Now there is dinner to prepare.” He dismounted and began unlacing the ties that held the fresh meat behind his saddle.

“Did you get another deer, Cuchulainn?” Kyna asked, bouncing up and down.

“A wild, white sheep this time, Ky. And you can thank the Huntress for it. She is the one who brought the beast down,” he said, neatly turning the child’s attention back to Brighid.

Dozens of sets of round little eyes refocused on the Huntress.

Brighid shrugged. “I just beat him to the shot.”

“No, you’re special. We already know,” Kyna said. “May…may I touch you?”

Brighid looked helplessly at Cu, who was suddenly oh-so-busy handing the wrapped meat to Curran and Nevin.

“Please?” the child asked. “I’ve always wanted to meet a centaur.”

“Yes, I suppose that would be fine,” the Huntress said helplessly.

Kyna walked closer to Brighid and then reverently stretched out her hand and touched the Huntress’s gleaming golden coat. “You’re soft like water. And your hair is so pretty, just like Cuchulainn said. I think he’s right. It’s good that you keep it long even though most Huntresses cut theirs short.”