Page 3 of The Wild Hunt

I offer a small, shaky smile. "Thank you.” Taking a deep breath, I continue. Something about this place already has my anxiety fading, and the story I thought would be difficult to share comes out naturally.

“The next day, I packed whatever I could fit into a bag and left. Went back to my parents' and ignored his calls and messages. Spent the next few months trying to piece myself back together."

"And that's when you decided to come here?" she asks gently.

"Yes," I reply, feeling a bit of lightness returning to my voice. "My grandmother reminded me of the stories she and my great-grandmother used to tell about growing up in Ireland. My great-grandmother actually came from the area near your village before moving to America with her little girl, my grandmother. Apparently I look just like my great-grandmother when she was my age. It felt like the right place to go—to find myself, experience a part of my heritage. I feel almost like I’m reconnecting with her."

Bridget's face softens into a smile, her eyes shining with understanding. "Then you've come to the perfect place. Our village may be small, but it's full of heart. And the cliffs... well, you'll see. They're something else entirely."

"I can't wait," I say, feeling a genuine sense of excitement bubbling up inside me for the first time in a long while.

We lapse into a comfortable silence as the car continues its journey, the city fading away behind us as we drive deeper into the countryside. The scenery becomes increasingly picturesque, with lush green fields dotted with grazing sheep and ancient stone walls lining the winding roads. The sky begins to clear, allowing shafts of golden sunlight to illuminate the landscape and cast everything in a warm, inviting glow.

Bridget points out various landmarks along the way, sharing little anecdotes and bits of local history that make me smile and feel even more drawn to this new place. She tells me about the annual harvest festival, the local pub that's been around for over a century, and the old castle ruins that supposedly house a resident ghost. Her stories are lively and engaging, and I find myself relaxing more with each passing mile.

After a couple of hours, we turn onto a narrow road that winds through a dense forest. The trees arch overhead, their branches creating a natural canopy that filters the sunlight into dappled patterns on the ground. The air seems fresher here, filled with the rich scent of earth and foliage.

Eventually, we emerge from the forest, passing through a small village that seems straight out of a story book. The streets are lined with quaint cottages, a tiny grocery store, and a pub with a cheerful sign swinging gently in the breeze. Bridget points them out with pride. "That’s the local pub I mentioned, and there’s the grocery store—just about everything you might need is within walking distance of the cottage."

I take in the sight of Ennisvarra, feeling an overwhelming sense of contentment. This is exactly what I’d hoped for—a peaceful retreat where I can lose myself in my painting and leave my past behind.

As we continue driving, the village is replaced by more trees and a narrow road. The car bumps along, and I can feel the anticipation building with every turn.

"We're almost there," Bridget announces, her voice tinged with excitement.

Finally, after what seems like both a moment and an eternity, the landscape opens up to reveal a breathtaking view of the sea. The water stretches out to the horizon, shimmering under the late afternoon sun. Jagged cliffs rise majestically from the shoreline, their rugged beauty both awe-inspiring and humbling.

I gasp softly, pressing a hand to the window as I take in the stunning vista. "It's even more beautiful than I imagined," I murmur.

Bridget beams, clearly pleased by my reaction. "Wait until you see the sunset from the cottage. It's like nothing else."

We don’t travel much farther before a quaint little cottage comes into view. It's constructed of weathered stone, with a thatched roof and ivy creeping up the sides. A small wooden fence encircles the property, adding to its charm.

Bridget parks the car in front of the cottage and turns to me with a wide smile. "Welcome to your temporary home away from home, Mac."

I feel a swell of emotion at her words, my eyes prickling with unshed tears. "Thank you, Bridget. This is... perfect."

We step out of the car, and I take a deep breath, filling my lungs with the salty sea air that feels like a fresh start. The sound of waves crashing against the rocks below mingles with the distant cries of seabirds, creating a symphony that soothes my weary soul.

Chapter 2

Mac

Bridget retrieves my suitcase from the trunk and insists on carrying it up the path to the cottage door. I follow, my heart swelling with a mix of gratitude and excitement. She unlocks the door and steps inside, holding it open for me.

The interior is as charming as the exterior. The main room is cozy, with a small fireplace and a comfy armchair next to a bookshelf filled with well-worn books. A wooden table near the window overlooks the cliffs and the sea beyond. To the left is a small kitchen, equipped with all the essentials—nothing fancy, but more than enough for my needs. The rustic decorations and wooden beams overhead give the space a warm, inviting feel.

Bridget places my suitcase by the door and gestures toward the kitchen. "I’ve stocked the cupboards and fridge with basics—tea, coffee, milk, bread, butter. Most of it is local, except the coffee. I even baked the bread myself this morning. I run the bakery in town."

Well, that explains the flour in her hair.Her pride is evident, and I smile at her kindness. "Thank you, Bridget. This is perfect. Exactly what I needed."

She nods, pleased, and gives me a quick tour of the cottage. "There’s the bathroom down the hall, and your bedroom is just here on the right. It’s small, but the bed’s comfortable, and the linens are freshly laundered. I also left some extra blankets in the closet in case the nights get chilly."

I peek into the bedroom. The double bed is small but inviting, with a patchwork quilt adding a touch of color to the room. A window offers a stunning view of the sea that takes my breath away.

Bridget continues, "If you need anything else, or just want a chat and have something sweet to eat, don’t hesitate to stop by the bakery. It’s a short walk through the forest to the village. You can easily see the path from the back of the cottage. The pub also has delicious food each night if you don’t feel like cooking."

We return to the main room, and Bridget ensures everything is in order. "Well, that’s it. I’ll leave you to settle in, but if you ever need anything, you know where to find me."

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