I sat by the fire hours later, a mug of tea cradled between my palms as I kept the mid-watch, the watch between post-dinner and the graveyard shift. Thom wasn\u2019t happy about it, but I knew I wouldn\u2019t be able to sleep despite the excitement of the day, so he went to bed and I lingered, keeping the fire going and listening to the sounds of our village by night. That\u2019s what it was now, really\u2014a village. Our village.<\/p>\n
Home.<\/em><\/p>\n \u201cYou could have taken him to task, you know. For the way he was behaving.\u201d<\/p>\n I startled at the sound of Leinth\u2019s voice, twisting to look at her as she came into the light of the fire. She looked pale and drawn, dark circles beneath her eyes. I frowned.<\/p>\n \u201cYou look like hell,\u201d I told her.<\/p>\n \u201cOnly tired,\u201d she said, settling on the ground an arms\u2019 length from me. \u201cHe\u2019s still sleeping the sleep of the dead. No change.\u201d<\/p>\n I nodded slowly. \u201cYou want some tea?\u201d I asked, gesturing to the pot over the flames.<\/p>\n \u201cI can get it,\u201d she said, sitting cross-legged and arranging her sleeveless robe around her. Her attire was caught somewhere between early Roman chic, hippy flower child, and 90s grunge, but somehow she made it work. \u201cI mean it, though. You could have reamed him out for the way he was acting. He deserved it.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWho?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSeamus,\u201d she said. \u201cHe would have listened to you and you\u2019d have been utterly right to say something.\u201d<\/p>\n I shook my head. \u201cHe didn\u2019t do anything to deserve my chewing him out. We\u2019re all a little overwrought and what little he\u2019s said about this whole mess have been far less alarming and far more kind than some of what the rest of us have been thinking. Trust me on that.\u201d<\/p>\n She stared at me for a long moment before nodding slightly. \u201cIf you say so. Still, should it ever come up…you can do it and he\u2019ll listen.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI doubt that.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t.\u201d She offered me a faint smile. \u201cHe used to speak of her fondly, you know.\u201d<\/p>\n The hairs on the back of my neck stirred. \u201cOf who?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBrigh\u00edd of the Imbolg.\u201d<\/p>\n My blood went cold.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" I sat by the fire hours later, a mug of tea cradled between my palms as I kept the mid-watch, the watch between post-dinner and the graveyard shift. Thom wasn\u2019t happy about it, but I knew I wouldn\u2019t be able … Continue reading