Page 21 of The Wild Hunt

A smile pulls at his lips, subtle but unmistakable. "I seem to always catch you while you are deep in thought," he says, his voice low and smooth, carrying the same unplaceable accent that echoes in my memories of the dream.

It takes me a moment to ground myself, to remember that my dreams aren't real. The only times I’ve actually seen this man are now, and that one strange encounter in the forest. Yet, the sense of déjà vu is so strong it makes me question everything. I dip my head, trying to shake off the strange mix of emotions rising inside me, and mutter with a shy smile, "I do get very focused."

He steps closer, his gaze shifting from me to the painting in progress. "Focused, yes, but with good reason. You have a gift." His eyes linger on the canvas, studying it with an intensity that makes my skin prickle. I glance at the painting, suddenly feeling vulnerable. It’s a strange feeling to have someone witness something so personal—this piece of myself, raw and still incomplete.

"Thank you," I manage to say, a soft blush creeping up my cheeks. "I haven’t seen you in the village." I can’t help but wonder where he’s been, why I haven’t crossed paths with him again since that day in the woods.

Cianán smiles slightly. "I've been around," he replies, his tone teasing. "I prefer to wander through the forest in my spare time." There’s something about the way he says it, like the forest is a part of him, an extension of his spirit.

"So, McKenna of America," he continues after a moment, turning his intense green eyes back to me, his voice smooth like honey, "how are you liking it here so far?"

I chuckle softly at the way he says my name. "It’s beautiful," I reply, glancing around at the scenery surrounding us. "The landscape is breathtaking, and the air feels so different."

His eyes light up, a playful grin tugging at his lips. "Different how?"

I shrug as I duck my head. "I’m not sure. It’s more refreshing, and I love the quiet. It’s a nice change from the chaos I left behind."

Cianán steps a bit closer. "And what chaos is that? If you don’t mind sharing, of course."

I hesitate for a moment, weighing my words. "Just… life stuff.” I trail off, feeling the weight of his gaze on me. There’s a warmth in his expression, but it’s coupled with an intensity that unnerves me. I’m not used to people prying into my life, especially not strangers. But something about Cianán feels different—he’s a stranger, yes, but somehow, he doesn’t feel like one. I try to shake off the strange sensation and force a smile.

“Just a lot of changes back home,” I continue, keeping my tone light. “Work, relationships, you know how it goes.” I wave my hand dismissively, hoping to keep things vague. I’m not ready to dive into my tangled mess of emotions, especially not with someone I barely know.

Cianán watches me for a moment, as though weighing my response, before nodding. “Ah, the chaos of life. Sometimes we need to escape it, don’t we?” He glances out toward the forest, his eyes distant for a moment. “To find some stillness in the madness.”

I nod, grateful for the shift in conversation. “Exactly. That’s what this trip is for—just to reset, get back to myself.”

His gaze returns to me, soft but probing. “And have you? Found yourself, I mean?”

I pause, caught off guard by the question. It’s simple enough, but the truth is… I don’t know. I came here hoping for clarity, butinstead, I’ve been overwhelmed by dreams and sensations I can’t explain. I feel more confused now than when I arrived.

“I’m still working on it,” I admit, my voice quieter than I intended.

Cianán's smile deepens, as though he understands more than he lets on. “That’s the thing about stillness,” he says, his voice low and almost hypnotic. “It has a way of making everything louder.” His words hang in the air, and for a moment, I feel as though he's speaking directly to the chaos swirling in my mind, as though he sees the confusion I’ve been carrying with me.

I laugh softly, more out of discomfort than amusement. “You could say that again,” I mutter, turning back to my painting as an excuse to break off the eye contact that’s suddenly too intense. My brush hovers above the canvas, but my focus has slipped away, lost somewhere between the trees and the mysterious man standing next to me.

He steps closer, his presence both grounding and disorienting at the same time. “It’s not always about finding yourself,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “Sometimes, it’s about remembering who you’ve always been.”

I swallow hard, the lump in my throat making it difficult to respond. His words stir something deep inside me, something I’ve been trying to ignore. It’s true—I haven’t been trying to change; I’ve been trying to forget. Forget Nathan, forget the pain, forget the part of myself that feels broken beyond repair.

But maybe I don’t need to forget. Maybe I just need to remember who I was before the hurt.

“Do you ever feel that way?” I ask suddenly, my voice surprising me with its vulnerability. “Like you’re trying to find your way back to something you’ve lost?”

Cianán’s expression softens, his eyes darkening with an emotion I can’t quite place. “Yes,” he says after a long pause. “I think we all do, in our own way.”

There’s a depth to his words that makes me wonder what he’s lost, what he’s searching for in this quiet corner of the world. But before I can ask, he steps back, breaking the spell between us.

“You should finish your painting,” he says, nodding toward the canvas. “The light will fade soon.”

I glance at the sky, noticing for the first time how low the sun is in the sky. I decide to finish the piece tomorrow, but when I look back toward Cianán to wish him a good night, he has already disappeared, as if he was never there at all.

Chapter 13

Mac

After cleaning my supplies and setting the half finished piece aside to dry, I make my way down to Ennisvarra for dinner. As usual, the pub is warm and inviting, filled with happy patrons drinking and laughing after a long day.

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