“Are two entirely different things,” Brighid finished for him, thinking once again about the small winged surprises that would soon descend upon Partholon. The humans had no idea what they were in for. She glanced at Cuchulainn. His face had fallen back into its familiar mask of nonexpression. But were his eyes still unnaturally bright and focused too sharply on Ciara?

Something prickled down Brighid’s spine, twitching her skin and making her Feel preternaturally aware of the vast Wastelands that surrounded their little camp.

“So that’s settled.” She rose restlessly. “Tomorrow we stay close together-we all keep our eyes on the children. No straggling-no exploring.”

“And we enter Partholon.” Ciara breathed the word like a prayer.

“With caution,” Brighid said more sharply than she had intended.

“What is it, Huntress?” Ciara asked. “Have you been warned of something to come?”

“No!” Brighid said a little too quickly. She hadn’t been warned about anything-she’d just been caught totally off guard by Cuchulainn’s reaction to Ciara’s dance. And now the Shaman was studying her with those perceptive eyes of hers. Brighid stood and shifted her weight restlessly. “No,” she repeated in a more controlled voice. “I’m just tired. And I don’t get premonitions anyway-that’s Cu’s area, not mine.”

The warrior’s head snapped around and he narrowed his eyes. “I don’t have premonitions anymore.”

“That might not necessarily be a good thing.” Brighid met his eyes squarely.

“You are tired, Huntress,” Ciara spoke into the tension-charged silence. “Perhaps you would like to sleep first?”

Brighid nodded tightly.

“I wish you a good-night then. I will speak with the other adults about tomorrow. Cuchulainn will take the first watch.”

Brighid nodded again. Without speaking to Cuchulainn she retreated into the tent they shared and settled herself amidst the thick pelts. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

What was wrong with her?

She was angry to her core. And she had no reason to be.

Cuchulainn had responded to Ciara. What was wrong with that? Nothing. It would be wonderful if Cu could love again. Actually it would be miraculous.

When his soul is no longer shattered the warrior will not choose death. When Cuchulainn is whole he will love again.

When Ciara had spoken those words Brighid had thought it impossible that Cuchulainn would ever love again-she hadn’t considered that Ciara had been speaking of herself.

Brighid restlessly rearranged her long, equine limbs. Cu was her friend. She had agreed to help him recover the shattered piece of his soul because she cared for him. She wanted him to be whole again. She hadn’t taken the soul-retrieval journey yet, but already Cu seemed more animated. He’d bantered with her, and noticed that she was looking tired. She should be pleased he was showing an interest in Ciara, too. The winged woman was beautiful and kind. Elphame would approve.

Brighid was happy for him, she told herself firmly. She had just been taken unawares. That was all. And she was tired. Her dream last night had sapped her energy. It had also obviously worn on her patience. She needed sleep. Then she would be herself again.

Brighid drew another deep breath and focused on relaxing the tension from her body. Exhaustion pulled her under, and sleep came easily. Her last coherent thought was that she would make a conscious effort to accept the relationship that was forming between her friend and Ciara. Cuchulainn deserved to be happy…

Her dream began with a flash of movement.

“Race me, Brighid!” Cuchulainn yelled as he sped past her on his gelding. The smile he threw over his shoulder was teasing. “Or at least try to catch me, old girl!”

Automatically Brighid gathered herself and surged forward, biting into the soft ground of the Centaur Plain with her hooves. Her long stride quickly ate up the distance between herself and Cu’s horse. She pulled alongside him. Cu was lying flat over the gelding’s neck, urging him on. Feeling her nearing, the horse found another burst of speed. With a fierce grin, Brighid lengthened her stride, easily keeping abreast of him.

Cuchulainn took his attention from the gelding long enough to grin at her.

“I’ll show you what an old girl I am!” Brighid shouted into the wind. Then she tapped the deep reservoir of her vast centaur strength. She flew past the horse and rider as if they were a boy and pony team.

She ran for the sheer joy of it.

The prairie swished past with such speed it seemed she was floating over a sea of grasses. The wind was warm, but against her flushed skin it felt like a cool balm. The powerful equine muscles of her legs burned, but it was a feeling she welcomed. Her breathing deepened, as lungs that were stronger than a human’s filled and expanded to support a body that was the perfect mixture of human beauty and equine strength.

By the Goddess, she’d forgotten how much she loved to run over the earth of her homeland! Partholon was a prosperous, beautiful country, but it didn’t call to her soul as did the Centaur Plains. She felt like she could run forever, forgetting everything…everyone…

Perhaps if she ran long enough she would find a way to return home and to reconcile her beliefs with those of her family. If she did that she might be free from the nagging sense of living as an outlander, as if she had been a changeling switched not at birth, but at the moment when she’d found the young human girl after the accident.

Brighid’s smooth stride faltered.

She wouldn’t think of that. She couldn’t think of that-not even in a dream. And anyway, wasn’t she supposed to be focusing on helping Cuchulainn? She scowled and slowed. Where was the warrior? Brighid glanced back over her shoulder. The prairie was empty except for the tall grasses, which waved seductively, calling to her with their secret whispering melodies.

Brighid slid to a halt. Great. She was supposed to be helping Cuchulainn and she’d let herself get so wrapped up in her own dream that she’d somehow lost him. She blew out a frustrated breath. Think about Cuchulainn! Brighid closed her eyes, blocking the sight of her beloved prairie, and thought about the warrior-or, more specifically, she thought about the carefree, happy part of Cuchulainn’s soul that visited her dreams.

She heard laughter and splashing water before she opened her eyes.

“Huntress! I wish you’d make up your mind about where we are. It’s dizzying to be pulled from one place to another.”

Brighid blinked her eyes open and stared. She had gone from prairie to forest within the space of a breath. The day was still warm, but the indirect sunlight filtered through the green canopy, so that the thick leaf loam of the forest floor was dappled and hazy. It took a moment for her vision to adjust. More splashing came from the other side of the moss-covered mound of rocks directly in front of her. Totally confused, she trotted forward and the waterfall-fed pond came into view. Cuchulainn was in the middle, water covering him to the waist. His chest was bare, and he looked young and soggy with his wet hair plastered to his head.

Brighid was just about to laugh at him when she recognized where they were. It was the bathing pool she and Elphame and Brenna had discovered during the early renovations of MacCallan Castle. The three of them had bathed there often and Brenna had told her it was a special trysting site for her and Cuchulainn. Brighid’s gut tightened.

Brenna had been killed here.

“You should know that I recognize your ulterior motive. You were afraid of losing the race to me, so you dreamed us here.”

“Losing the race? With you and that fat gelding of yours?” she scoffed, using annoyance to cover the uncomfortable tension that hummed within her. “Ridiculous.”