Page 32 of Father of the Wolf

“Did you say you have children?” And if so, did that mean he had been married, but was no longer? That might explain the sadness.

“I raised the young of the clan as my own children. Their parents were murdered.” He said the word children with pride and wonder, making Hope think of every loving parent she had ever met. And he had said they were not really his children.

“Could you tell me about them? Are they like you? How did you wind up raising them?”

“My two brothers and I were the only adults left alive in our village. We found the children, who had escaped and hidden to save themselves. There were eleven of them, from newborn to fifteen years. I cared for them and taught them all I could. We performed the tagradh ceremony.”

“What is the tagradh... ceremony?”

“It allows a parent to replace one who was lost, to become mathair or athair, mother or father. One of us had to adopt the children and hold the needed connection to their magic. Without it, the children would have suffered horribly and eventually died from their immature magic. In the weeks it took to find the pages that held the steps of the ceremony, we nearly lost the two youngest, a set of twin newborns.”

“So, you adopted eleven children to become their athair. Their father. Is that why you go by Athair?” He sounded like any other protective parent she knew.

“They named me Athair out of respect. Even my brothers call me Athair now.”

Athair was more a title than a name. She wondered what he had been like before accepting the responsibility of parenthood. “What’s your real name?”

“Ailleag,” he said after a pause. “Athair is all I have been for many long years. I do not feel like Ailleag any longer. I might have adopted them out of necessity, but the young are my everything.” There was such longing in his mind, a sadness about being parted from his children.

“Is there any way to contact your family? Would they be worried about you? Would they know you were poisoned? Could they help you heal?” Strangely, she hoped he would say no. That he would stay with her at least a little longer.

“I had two of the children with me when I went to the Bear Clan. I don’t know if they escaped or not.”

“Do you mean the people who poisoned and nearly tore you apart may have your children? And be doing God knows what to them?” She shot to her feet in agitation. No wonder he glared at the woods, growling. He must want to go rescue his children. “We need to go after them. We need to get them to safety.”

Athair watched the fire flash in her eyes in the defense of his children, whom she had never met. Ones that were in fact, hundreds of years old and nearly as powerful as he was. Still her defense of them was extraordinary. “I am worried for them, but you should know they are adults now. They should have had time to get well away once they knew I had escaped the pack. I imagine they may be searching for me, with plans for my rescue.”

“Ah, how old are they? I was picturing teenagers.”

“I am not sure you want me to answer that.” Rath had just turned four hundred and nineteen, and Dàn was one year younger.

“Why’s that? Will it make me think you’re old, or what?” She smiled at him, not knowing how old her innocence already made him feel. Humans always amazed him. They lived so fully in only the few decades they were given.

“Both of them are over four hundred years old.” But the Valàfrn matured differently than humans. Even if they looked like adults by age twenty, they usually did not consider starting a family and taking on responsibility until they reached the age of two hundred.

“Oh, my.” She stared at him and frowned thoughtfully. “That must mean you’re a bit older than that.”

“Yes. A bit.”

“You were totally right. I didn’t want to know that. And I don’t think I want to know how much older you are. At least not yet. Especially, if you still call them children.”

“That is probably wise. Though in truth, I will probably always see them as children, regardless of their ages.” She was really quite remarkable. Not once had she avoided the unlikely reality of his existence. Never mind the fact that she still held the knife mostly hidden at her side. That was good sense for a woman alone. She was filled with curiosity and compassion and completely lacked prejudice. If she was typical of people in this age, his clan may finally have a chance at acceptance. He found the possibility refreshing.

Perhaps her name was as appropriate as his. She, with her soft doe eyes, could be the one to bring hope to his clan. Was that what Dàn had meant while with the Bear clan?

Athair was worried about what happened to the boys after he was chased from Lakeside. He knew they were strong and sensible, but many things could have kept them from making their escape. He also knew that Dàn would not have told him if the young seer himself was going to come to harm. There was a quiet sadness about him, and at times Athair even suspected Dàn might consider seeking the solace of death.

“Would you tell me about yourself?” What in her life had given her such strength and courage? For just this once, he wanted to lean on someone, on this woman to bolster his own failing strength.

“I would rather not. I don’t like to talk about myself.”

“Please,” he asked in quiet entreaty. He didn’t want to scare her with too much truth about his way of life, but he needed the conversation to help hold onto his sense of self. The forest was unrelenting in its summons. The scents and sounds drew him almost beyond control.

With a shake of his head, he focused on Hope. She smelled like vanilla and spice. She had moved to sit on the top step only a few feet away from him. She leaned back against the railing with her eyes closed, obviously deep in thought. The light from the moon added a soft glow to her perfect skin. His breath stopped. Her spicy scent and her tender throat awoke a dark hunger in him for the taste of her flesh and blood.

This had to stop. He had never hurt a person and didn’t want to start now.

“Please, I need the distraction.”

---