Page 4 of Father of the Wolf

"How seriously do they fight?" Athair's words were muffled as he pulled on a lightly woven shirt and followed the younger man from his small lodge.

"Rather, Athair. From what I saw, the fight began nearly an hour ago. Allaidh must have run before it started."

The children called him Athair, meaning father, as a show of respect and appreciation for raising them as his own. Several of the younger ones didn’t remember their parents and he tried to fill the role as best he could. Only his stories kept their lost families close, but that would never be enough. Valàfrn thrived within the clan but suffered greatly without the strength of an extended family.

Growling and snarling pierced the quiet before they reached the front of the dugout lodge the twins shared. The sounds came from the back, so Athair and Rath jogged around the brush that covered one side of the roof. Athair spotted two gray wolves circling each other, each looking for an opening to attack. Their large bodies were both marked by small cuts and bites, but they were not yet badly injured.

Athair stepped between them before either used his appearance as a distraction to initiate another attack. "Romach and Molach! I am ashamed of you. Brothers should strengthen one another. Never should it come to a fight like this." Although he’d said their names in a low growl, the rest of Athair’s words flowed in his usual quiet, firm voice. The two wolves stood still, their flanks heaving, panting and bleeding, but no longer snarling as the anger faded from their identical, flashing blue eyes. "Blood is too precious to ever fall to the ground between brothers. You will heal each other and come find me this evening to explain your actions."

He used his empathy to read them deeply. They were done with their fight. Both were feeling hurt, but not angry. The only reason their fight had continued for so long was because neither of them had wanted to give in first.

Athair gave the brothers one last chastising frown, which encouraged them to drop their hostility and begin licking their wounds clean. A moment later he caught their remorseful emotions as Romie began licking a nasty cut on Molach’s cheek. Satisfied the incident was under control, Athair considered their deeper underlying problem. The young men needed mates. At nearly four hundred years of age, they needed emotional attachment more than simple sexual release. Unfortunately, their sheltered, secluded lives didn’t offer much choice. He’d been considering the problem for a while and the time had come to consider other options.

"Rath, do you know where Sgrios is?" Athair asked.

"No, but Dàn probably does. He’s down by the stream."

Of course, Dàn would know. "I would like to thank him anyway." Athair wondered if the other clans held to the old traditions. They’d lost so much with the deaths of their elders. How were the other clans dealing with changing times? Perhaps they would soon find out.

He and Rath walked down the slight hill toward Dàn's favorite spot by the stream. Athair often worried about the strangest of his adopted sons. Lately, Dàn had pulled further away from their group, wanting to stay by himself most of the time. While raising the others had been a challenge, Dàn had been different. He’d never caused trouble or allowed himself to be spoiled. And still, there was some element Athair could not provide, no matter how hard he tried.

“You should speak English now, Rath,” Athair said, remembering Rath’s use of Gaelic throughout their conversation.

“Why bother?” Rath shrugged in frustration. “We don’t see other people often enough to go to the trouble. Why should we speak another language when we are among ourselves?” He said this in Gaelic, of course.

He kept his voice calm, because he partly agreed with the younger man. “Because, it is safest to be prepared for the time when we must deal with humans.” This was his usual answer to this question, but it might take on new meaning if his brothers agreed with the drastic measures he was about to suggest.

As expected, Rath had no verbal response for Athair’s often repeated reply, other than a low grumble as he turned to leave. He continued with a few choice Gaelic phrases, descriptive enough to make Athair smile.

Such lack of respect. Still, it was only stress that made Rath speak so emotionally. Rath, like the others, needed a true mate with which to bond. Allaidh leaving him for the twins had brought the lack of a mate into focus. Her loss was even more difficult because it wasn’t in their nature to give up possessions easily, even uncomfortable ones.

Athair walked down to the small woodland stream, where he found Dàn staring at the water as it splashed peacefully past.

Dàn nodded in deference. His expression remained impassive when he looked up. “Athair.”

“Thank you, Dàn, for having Rath awaken me.”

Dàn’s gaze dropped back to the stream. Athair reached out with his empathy and tried to read Dàn’s feelings. He looked so uncertain. Athair felt fear, and then nothing as the boy’s defenses fell into place. Being able to read the emotions and sometimes thoughts of the younger clan members made Athair’s parenting somewhat easier. But some, like Dàn, had learned how to block being read. It had been quite some time since Dàn had allowed his emotions to be felt without immediately withdrawing behind his wall of protection.

“Dàn, do you know where I can find Sgrios?”

“He hunted to the west last week but is with Acair now. You’ll be able to find them both behind the meeting lodge cutting firewood.” Dàn continued to stare at the stream. “He plans to leave soon. I’ll have Lasair ask him to wait for you.” Only Lasair dared to speak with Sgrios telepathically, so only she could convince him to wait.

“Thank you.” Something was definitely bothering Dàn, but Athair knew better than to push him. If he needed to know, then Dàn would come to him with whatever problem had appeared in his visions.

He could have mentally contacted his twin brother, Acair, but he hesitated. He wanted to offer his plan to both his brothers at once and Acair was strong enough Athair would be unable to hold back information from him. If he connected with him, Acair immediately would know why he wanted to meet. This impromptu meeting could change everything for them. So much of the clan’s future depended on Acair’s experienced leadership of and Sgrios’ violent distrust.

Chapter Two

Forgotten Fears

Streams of Consciousness

Hope came awake with a gasp. Her mind screamed with almost forgotten pain. Her flesh stung and burned with a fire she’d never escape.

She opened her eyes to the familiar and terrifying sight of a sterile hospital room. What had happened? The accident blazed through her mind. The horrible rolling, burning death that had stolen her family.

They’d gone out for ice cream to celebrate acing her driver’s exam. Lightning had crashed around the car in a brilliant display, making Hope jump. Mom tried to laugh off her nervousness by saying the storm was providing fireworks in her honor, but she’d known differently. No feeling of celebration had accompanied the flashing light and pelting rain, and no amount of cheerful wishing from her mother could make the storm any less malignant. The rain soaked the roads, forcing her to drive slowly along the tree lined highway toward town. Although nervous about the storm and weighed down with the feeling of impending doom, she carefully followed every rule, anxious to prove herself as a good driver.

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