Page 7 of The Wild Hunt

Eternity may be long, but it doesn’t have to be boring.

Chapter 4

Mac

After watching the sunset and putting away the items from the grocery store, the exhaustion from the long journey to Ireland settled heavily in me. Barely an hour after the light disappeared from the sky, I curled in the bed and fell into a heavy dreamless sleep.

I’m thankful for the exhaustion making me drift off early, but when the light woke me the following morning, it still felt far too soon. Yet, it was already nine in the morning. I slept better than I had in a long time, as though something about being here settled something inside me.

After having some warm bread with honey for breakfast, I grabbed my camera and set out to explore. I couldn’t stop thinking about the different colors of the forest and how desperately I felt the need to explore it as I ate and drank my coffee.

Soft moss settles under my shoes, creating a sort of padding as I walk into the dense forest. It’s beautiful and enchanting,with an almost magnetic energy, calling to me in subtle waves. It makes me venture off the path and further into the depth of the forest on a trail that seems less frequented.

Occasionally, I catch glimpses of what look like large fireflies flitting between the trees. The shadows cast by the canopy block some of the sun, making the little glimmers of light that sneak through even brighter. It adds an otherworldly glow to the space, as if nature itself is alive with its own quiet magic.

There's an eerie silence in parts of the forest, a stillness that feels both calming and unsettling, as if the woods are holding their breath. Every now and then, the rustling of leaves or the distant chirp of a bird breaks the tranquility, but mostly, it feels like I’m alone in a hidden world. Without thinking, I start humming one of the old melodies my great-grandmother taught me, the tune weaving through the trees as my voice breaks the quiet.

I focus on the plant life and trees around me, appreciating the rich greens, oranges, browns and the delicate blossoms. There’s something soothing in the way the leaves and grass sway in the gentle breeze, as though dancing to the song.

As I move, I snap pictures of the intricate details—moss-covered rocks, the gnarled roots of ancient trees, the small wildflowers hidden beneath tall ferns. Each shot feels like capturing a piece of this world’s essence, something I want to keep with me long after I leave.

I look around me, searching for more images to capture, my voice unconsciously lifting as I sing the old songs I have treasured every day since I had to say goodbye to my great-grandmother. They make me feel closer to her. The melodies flow naturally, carrying on the wind like they belong here as much as I do. After capturing another shot of sunlight filtering through the leaves and casting a heart shape shimmer, Istraighten, ready to continue wandering. But something at the edge of my vision catches my attention.

I turn a little further and startle at the sight of a man standing on the path, his hand resting casually on a nearby tree. He watches me with an expression that is both calm and curious. His beauty is striking, taking my breath away with just one look. His long brown hair falls past his shoulder in a straight line, but "brown" seems an inadequate description. It almost appears to have absorbed the different hues of the tree bark beside him, woven into rich, earthy tones that shimmer subtly in the dappled light. His green eyes are startlingly bright, almost glowing against the backdrop of the forest. His features are fine, with an ethereal quality, and his arms—lean and muscular—are bare, exposed by the sleeveless linen shirt he wears.

For a moment, I can't move, captivated by the way his muscles flex as he pushes away from the tree, stepping toward me with an effortless grace.

"I did not mean to startle you," he says, his voice smooth and warm, with a faint lilt that I can’t quite place. It takes a moment for his words to register, my mind still swirling with the unexpectedness of his appearance.

The subtle twitch of his lips tells me he’s trying not to laugh at my stunned reaction. There's a glimmer of amusement in his eyes, though it feels kind rather than mocking.

"I—it's alright," I finally manage, feeling a little flustered. The forest around us seems to hum with a newfound energy, as though it too is aware of the unexpected encounter. "I wasn’t expecting... company."

For a moment I scold myself because what woman treks through the woods alone in a country they know very little about. Apparently that would be me. Now, I’m alone with a man who could very easily overpower me and I have no idea what to say or do next.

He smiles, and it feels as though the entire forest smiles with him. There’s something unearthly about him, something that feels both ancient and ageless, like he belongs to this place in a way I can’t quite grasp. I lower my camera, realizing that I had instinctively raised it when I first saw him, ready to capture the moment as though it were a scene from a dream.

"You're not alone out here," he says softly, as if sharing a secret with the trees. "This forest is alive with more than just the plants and animals. It has a life of its own.” His hand braces on a tree as if he were feeling for its heartbeat. “Haven’t you felt it?"

I blink, the sensation he’s describing striking a chord deep within me. I have felt something here—something ancient, something watching—but I hadn’t fully acknowledged it until now. My gaze drifts back to the fireflies, or what I thought were fireflies, still darting between the trees. They suddenly seem almost too large, too bright.

"Who are you?" I ask, my voice a little steadier now, though the air between us feels charged, like the moment just before a summer storm.

He takes another step toward me, and I feel as though the distance between us is closing in more ways than just physical space. My mind tells me to take a step back, to not let this stranger near me, but my body says something different. It tells me I need to stay. When I don’t move, his smile deepens slightly, and there's something both playful and mysterious in his eyes.

I shake my head, trying to dismiss the thoughts swirling in my mind as silly. He must come from the village. There’s no other explanation. Maybe the forest just has a strange effect on me, making everything seem more magical than it really is.

He catches my brief look of confusion, and with a slight tilt of his head, he says, "My name is Cianán."

Cianán. I don’t even know the meaning of the name, but something tells me it suits him. I nod, forcing myself to focus. “I’m Mac,” I respond automatically.

Something flickers across his face—a subtle shift, but enough to make me pause. His fine features draw together into a brief frown before his expression smooths out. "That's not your real name," he says softly, his voice carrying an unshakable certainty.

My heart skips a beat. How could he possibly know that? A thousand thoughts rush through my mind, but I quickly brush them away.Macprobably isn’t a common name around here. That must be it. But the way he said it feels different, more knowing, as if he’s looking straight through me.

I swallow hard and manage to respond. “It’s McKenna,” I admit, my voice quieter now, as though giving him the real name somehow deepens the moment.

Cianán’s gaze softens, though the frown lingers for a heartbeat longer before his face relaxes. “McKenna,” he repeats, testing the name on his tongue like it holds meaning beyond its sound. There’s a weight to the way he says it, and for a second, I feel exposed, as if by sharing my name, I’ve given him something more.

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