Page 20 of Cree & Dawn and the Wolf

“I agree. We don’t drink the brew, though I have a feeling that Olwen may make sure we did. So, in a short while we will lie in bed and wait for her visit before we explore.”

Dawn took the jug and first poured some into the two tankards, then emptied them and more from the jug into the bucket of water, planning to accidentally spill it in the morning so that no one was the wiser. Not long after she got into bed and was lying on her side, then her husband curled himself around her, tucking her close against him, and she smiled. She rested her hand on his arm that hugged her waist and feeling his strength and his heart beat with confidence, she felt less anxious since arriving here.

“Footfalls. Close your eyes,” Cree whispered in her ear after they had laid there for a while.

Cree had made sure they faced the door, so Olwen didn’t need to enter the room, but he thought she might anyway, and he was right. He heard a slight tap to the door, then it creaked open slowly. He listened as her footfalls neared the bed. He felt a slight poke at his arm, then he heard her walk away but not toward the door, to the table. Dawn had been wise in making it seem like they had drunk quite a bit of the brew.

Her footfalls headed to the door and the door creaked open then closed, but he waited as he advised Dawn they would, to make sure Olwen made it appear that she left when she didn’t. Once again, he was right. After a few moments, the door creaked open again and shut. Still, Cree waited since he heard no footfalls along the passageway and once more the door opened and shut. Olwen was thorough in making sure that he and Dawn had drunk enough of the brew to keep them asleep for the rest of the night.

Finally, he heard her footfalls fade down the passageway and he alerted Dawn. “She’s gone.” He helped her out of bed. “You will stay close to me.”

She nodded, intending to do just that. She did not want to chance getting separated from him in an unfamiliar and odd place, especially since she had no voice, no way of calling outto him. She had learned through the years to clap her hands or make noise with whatever was at hand to attract his attention when needed. But that was not always possible, so she did not like to take risks. Besides, this place left her feeling uneasy and only feeling the strength of her husband’s muscled body against hers could ease her anxiousness.

Cree had opened the door enough times to know that if he lifted it some the creak could barely be heard. So, he and Dawn managed to leave the bedchamber making as little noise as possible. He grabbed a torch from one of the few sconces before they climbed the stairs to the next floor. The torch flickered in his hand, cutting a light through the suffocating darkness. The flames cast shadows that danced and twisted on the cold, uneven walls, forming shapes that looked like clawed hands reaching out to seize them. His other hand gripped Dawn’s hand to make sure she kept close.

Dawn welcomed her husband’s tight grip and moved closer to him, her arm brushing his. It made her feel safe, though she wished she had worn her cloak, the air so chilly she could have sworn she saw puffs of her own breath. She kept her eyes sharp and steady, watching for danger or whatever else the darkness might hold.

They continued to climb the twisting stairs, their footfalls echoing softly in the silence. The more they climbed the chillier and darker it seemed to get. It wasn’t as cold or dark when he was here earlier but then it hadn’t been night. But how would that make a difference with the heavy fog outside allowing little daylight? He made no remark about it to Dawn, not wanting to frighten her, but he took extra care with his steps and kept his focus alert. He’d allow nothing to harm his wife.

Dawn was relieved when they reached the first landing, a narrow corridor stretching out before them. Dust motes drifted in the torchlight, and the walls seemed to close in, the shadowsso deep they appeared almost solid. She thought she heard a sound and tugged on Cree’s hand.

“I hear it too,” he said. “It sounds like the steady drip of water somewhere.”

Dawn nodded, agreeing and thought the steady drip reminded her of time passing, a warning for them to hurry.

The first door they came upon sat ajar, a sliver of darkness leaking out. Cree pushed it open with the tip of his finger and stretched the torch out in front of him revealing a small chamber.

“This room has not been in use for some time from the thick dust on the furniture,” Cree said as they entered.

Dawn nodded, casting a glance around at the items there, a basket of unfinished embroidery, a foot stool, and a wool blanket hanging off the lone chair were sure signs that the room once served as a woman’s solar. The tapestry above the fireplace caught her eye and she gestured to Cree to raise the torch.

It was a typical battle scene. Warriors lay sprawled on the ground while the victorious warriors stood over them, Lord Tiernan in the middle of them, though his hair was longer with twin braids on each side of his head. But what caught her eye the most was the forest scene at the top part of the tapestry. She spotted wolves among the trees, not hiding but rather watching as if they too were gleeful for the victory. She pointed it out to Cree and freed her hand to gesture her thought.

“Aye, the wolves do look pleased, almost as if it was a victory for them as well and they were now safe.” He tore his glance away from the disturbing tapestry. “We can’t linger. I want to get back to our quarters long before anyone returns.”

Cree led the way to the next room. Whatever the room had been used for was hard to tell, a collection of discarded furnishings and old chests now occupied it.

Something caught Cree’s eye. He believed it to be the handle of a weapon and once he extracted it from among the mountain of items, he saw that he was correct. It was a sword, an old one crudely made. Such a weapon had been abandoned by warriors long before he had even held a sword in his hand and long before this castle was built.

He wanted to dig more to see if he could find other old weapons, but moving things around would make too much noise that could possibly attract attention.

Several distant howls broke the silence and Cree hurried to grab his wife’s hand. “Time to leave.”

Dawn nodded, fully agreeing, the menacing howls running gooseflesh over her, and she wondered if they howled in victory of their hunt. And if they did, who in the clan had suffered a loss this night?

Once in the corridor, Dawn glanced down it, but it was dark, and she couldn’t see to the very end. She gave Cree’s elbow a nudge to raise the torch, and he did.

Cree stared along with Dawn at the large wood door at the end, pagan symbols intricately carved into it. It was a door that warned people away. Or was it a door that protected and if so, what did it protect?

Cree released his wife’s hand, gripped her arm, and turned her around, anxious to return to their bedchamber. “Let’s go.”

Dawn nodded, her eagerness to explore gone and her eagerness to leave here mounting. She hurried her steps and would have fallen if her husband hadn’t had a good grip on her arm and stopped her near tumble.

“Are you all right?” Cree asked anxiously.

Dawn nodded and scrunched her brow, pointing to the floor.

Cree lowered the torch and they both stared with their mouths agape at four parallel lines scored deep into the wood floor, like the marks of a clawed hand.

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