Page 15 of Father of the Wolf

He sighed. “I don’t seek the visions.” Yet another aberration.

“What?” She said without comprehension.

“I don’t seek the visions. They come at me all the time.” Apparently, that was another of his oddities. He was depressed by the thought. “I cannot stop them, even if I wished to.” They were like never ending stories that played out at the edge of his vision. Constantly there, where he could see. Where he felt compelled to watch.

And this was always followed by his sense of duty and responsibility. He felt he had to help those around him whenever he was given a chance to make a difference.

“Look, Dàn. I am sorry I misled you. I know you were seeking guidance from me as a seer, but I won’t be able to help you. The clairvoyant talents you have are different from my own and far beyond my abilities.”

He closed his eyes in defeat. Would he never find someone who could help him to understand who and what he was, and show him what he was meant to do with these strange abilities?

She reached across the space and gently laid a slender hand on his arm. As soon as her hand touched him, he felt a rush of warmth. And acceptance. Along with the knowledge that she fought hard to keep him from her mind despite the physical contact.

When he reluctantly met her eyes, she said, “I may not be able to guide you, but I’d like to be your friend, if you can use one.” She slid her hand from his arm and smiled softly. “And I do think you can.”

“Yes. I can use a friend.” He already missed the contact of her hand and her mind.

“Incidentally, I can see part of your premonition’s void.” She looked down at her lap and twisted her fingers together anxiously.

“Will you share it with me?”

“Perhaps some of it.” He was surprised to see her eyes shine with tears. She wiped one from her cheek before continuing. “Your concerns over Rath’s safety are unnecessary. You will be able to protect him when the time comes. He will not be hurt seriously.”

The truth was there in what she didn’t say. “But I will be.” Suddenly, he realized her tears were for him. He couldn’t remember anyone ever crying for him before. It was very humbling. The presence of those tears brought a lump to his own throat. His heart tightened like a fist in his chest. He wanted to reassure her that he would be fine regardless of what she saw. “I thought as much by the fact that I could not see it. But you say Rath will be fine? I couldn’t see him, either.”

She nodded her agreement. She still had tears on her lashes, and he was uncertain what he should say.

Abruptly, Dàn sensed Athair behind him, just before a hand fell lightly upon his shoulder filling him with warm strength. Athair said, “Dàn, we must soon prepare for the ceremony.” Silently he added, “Son? Your stress is a bit overwhelming for the rest of us. Can I help?”

Dàn looked up into the face of the man who had been the closest to a father he had ever known and said, “She cries for me.”

“You need to gather yourself. Or we will all be crying for you within another moment.”

While Athair introduced himself to Maura, Dàn took the time to do as suggested. Athair had been right, of course. His surprise at Maura’s tears had echoed and amplified the melancholy feelings running through him. It was fortunate that so few people were close enough to be affected.

Before too long, Sandulfr, his mate, and a few others came back to the meeting house where they ate a relaxed meal with Dàn, Athair, and Rath.

After the meal, they shared coffee and talked about the upcoming ceremony. Dàn and the others learned that the Bear Clan’s eldest shaman, Belquavir, was to lead the ceremony. He was well respected, but he was also Bequlf’s uncle. In the past, Belquavir had gotten along reasonably well under Sandulfr’s leadership, but now their relationship was strained because of Bequlf’s recent challenge.

The ceremony was planned for moonrise, which would be around eleven o’clock. The moon would be not quite full. Still, the moon was held in reverence, especially for ceremonies.

It was nearly time. Sandulfr led them to a special clearing behind the meeting house, where three small fire pits were centered between the outstretched limbs of nine large oak trees.

Chapter Six

Going Forward Regardless

Ghost of a Chance

Dàn relaxed as the oak circle brought him a sense of inner peace. He knew this was a place he would like to spend some time. A light breeze played through the limbs and rustled the leaves as if the trees whispered among themselves. Everywhere he looked he saw serenity and balance.

The shaman waited in the center of the three fire pits. He was dressed in long robes decorated in earth tones, with dark gold embroidered edges. Unlike most of their kind, this man showed his age. His hair was gray, and his face showed fine wrinkles. He was a rather plain man, except for his piercing black eyes, which immediately obliterated Dàn’s feeling of tranquility.

This was the man who would poison Athair. The one who plotted to kill Athair if his plan did not work to perfection.

And Dàn knew his plans. They would begin the ceremony as expected, but the drink given to Athair would contain a highly toxic compound they thought would cause Athair to become violent. They would then subdue him and expel him, Dàn, and Rath from Lakeside, using the event to discredit Sandulfr. But how could it work? Surely only a weak clan would turn on its Alpha for such a shallow reason.

The shaman briefly explained where to sit, and that they were not expected to participate in the first steps of the ceremony. Each was given a drink before the ceremony was to begin. The bitter drink contained a hallucinogen that would “help” them talk with the spirits. Very few of their people had that ability even with the drink. Dàn knew no one who did. Although with his luck, he would discover it was another one of his exciting skills.

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