Page 8 of The Wild Hunt

"You have a beautiful voice," Cianán says suddenly, his eyes locking onto mine. My face heats up instantly, and I can feel the blood rushing to my cheeks. I wasn’t expecting him to comment on my singing, especially since I only ever sing when I’m alone. I had felt alone in the forest, lost in the moment, unaware that anyone was listening.

"I—thank you," I murmur, my voice barely above a whisper. My gaze drops, briefly taking in the necklace he is wearing, something black that looks like crossed over antlers, before dropping further to the forest floor, where leaves and roots twist and curl underfoot. I can’t quite meet his eyes; it’s too much,too personal. The thought of him hearing me sing makes me feel vulnerable in a way I hadn't expected.

Cianán takes another step closer, his expression gentle but curious. "What was that song?" he asks, his voice low, as if he’s afraid to disturb the quiet magic of the woods around us.

I force myself to look up at him, taking a deep breath to steady my nerves. "It’s just something I learned from my great-grandmother," I say, trying to sound casual, though my heart is still racing. The truth is, the song has always felt special to me, I’m not sure if it was how connected it made me feel to her, or to the stories she told. But I’m not sure how to explain that to him without sounding strange.

Cianán seems to sense the significance of my words. His eyes flicker with understanding, though he says nothing more about it. Instead, he simply watches me, his gaze soft and contemplative, as if he's trying to piece together some hidden puzzle.

There is a stillness to the forest now that I hadn’t noticed. I don’t know what to say next, so I turn my attention back to my camera, fiddling with the settings as a way to ground myself. But I can still feel Cianán’s presence, quiet and steady, like he’s content to just be here, in this moment with me.

After a long pause, he speaks again. "Your great-grandmother must have been a remarkable woman to pass down a song like that." There’s a hint of reverence in his voice, as though he understands the weight of my memories.

"She was," I reply softly, a small smile tugging at my lips. I can’t help but feel a surge of warmth at the mention of her.

Cianán’s eyes hold mine as he tilts his head slightly, his expression thoughtful. "The song came from around here," he says. "But you... you don’t."

I can't stop a soft laugh from escaping, the sound catching in my throat. There’s something endearing about the way hephrases things, with that lilt and a touch of something else—something I can’t quite place. It makes me feel both amused and oddly connected to him.

"Well, that's probably because I’m from America," I admit, my voice steady despite the flutter in my chest. "I’m just here on vacation."

As soon as the words leave my lips, I notice a subtle shift in the air around us. Cianán takes a small step back, and my gaze immediately follows, trying to catch any hint of what might have caused the change. I wonder if my being American has somehow affected his perception of me. But when I look up, I find him simply observing me with an expression of curious interest.

His eyes slide over me slowly, as if he’s taking in every detail. The heat that enters his gaze makes me blush again, a warm flush spreading across my cheeks. There’s something in his eyes that feels both intimate and distant, like he’s seeing through me, but he wants to remain a mystery himself.

Cianán’s smile returns, though it’s softer now, tinged with a hint of regret. "I should get back," he says softly, his voice carrying a note of finality. "I’m afraid I’ve taken up too much of your time."

I nod slightly, returning his smile with a soft, understanding gesture. "It’s no trouble at all. I probably distracted you from your work."

His smile widens a fraction, and there’s a fleeting glimmer of something—maybe amusement, maybe sadness—before he steps away. I look down at my camera for a moment but when I look back up, he has already left and I find myself standing alone again, the forest quiet around me.

The magical feeling of the forest still lingers but it’s more subtle now, and the image of Cianán in my mind feels like a fleeting yet vivid dream. Like a picture of something too brightand too colorful. Something that deep down I yearn to recreate or see again.

The sunlight filtering through the leaves now seems to have a different quality, as though touched by the presence of the man who had just disappeared into the woods. I find myself lost in thought, replaying the details of our conversation and the way his green eyes had held mine with such intensity.

I glance at the images on my camera, but they seem mundane compared to the vivid reality that just unfolded. The intricate details of moss-covered rocks and wildflowers now pale in comparison to Cianán. I’m struck by a sense of wonder and longing, as if his presence awakened something deep within me, something that makes the rest of the world feel less vibrant in comparison. I’m sure I’ll see him again in the village at some point while I’m here—perhaps tonight when I have dinner at the pub.

My stomach rumbles at the thought and with a sigh, I start to retrace my steps, hoping to find my way back to the cottage. I wandered more than originally planned, and the forest is a lot deeper than I first imagined.

Glancing back I stumble slightly, there is something about the forest behind me now that feels darker, more haunting. As though the trees themselves don’t want to let me leave. Maybe it’s a good thing I’m turning back now, I could have easily gotten lost if I kept going.

Chapter 5

Cianán

Iwatch as she stumbles briefly on the path back to safety, unaware of my presence. No matter how hard she looks, she won't see me. My steps are as light as a whisper on the sunlit ground as I follow her through the forest.

The midday sun filters through the canopy, casting dappled shadows on the ground, and light dances across her skin, highlighting the delicate freckles on her pale face. She moves with a quiet grace, the occasional rustle of leaves and snap of twigs the only sounds marking her passage.

I keep my distance, careful not to disturb the tranquility. Concealed by my glamor, I blend into the shadows, watching. There is something about her that is both captivating and unsettling, a subtle contrast to the serene beauty around her. As she leaves the forest and heads toward the small cottage on the cliffs, light glints off the sea, providing a shimmering backdrop to the quaint structure.

I remain hidden at the forest’s edge, watching her. Her skin flushes slightly in the warmth of the day, her breathing steady, her mind seemingly far from any thought of danger. The sight stirs something deep within me. As the sun catches the faint sheen of her hair, it creates a halo-like glow around her. Her hand lingers on the weathered door of the cottage, and even from this distance, I can see the pulse at her throat, the gentle rise and fall of her chest.

She looks back toward the forest, directly toward me. She pauses, waiting. Logically I know she cannot see me because my magic is currently the strongest there is here. But still, she looks and I almost want to throw off my glamor and see how she would react. When she simply shakes her head and enters the cottage, I retreat deeper into the forest.

Her song—an old, haunting fae melody—echoed through the trees as I had drawn closer. I’d hoped she might be a new participant in the hunt, a fresh challenge to break the monotony of my days. But recognizing that ancient tune, I knew she was no stranger to the dangers lurking here. If she knew that song, she would stay indoors on the night of the hunt, safe from me.

Her resemblance to the lower fae woman who vanished a century ago, around the same time as Lorcan’s soulmate, only added layers to the intrigue. If she wasn’t already aware of the old stories herself, the villagers would surely warn her. This knowledge deepened my disappointment, a wave of frustration crashing over me.

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