As she’d predicted, the boar had made a wallow near the bank of the small stream. With the eerie silence of an experienced Huntress enhanced by the power inherent within her blood, Brighid crept closer without the boar detecting a single sign or scent of her. When it lolled half up in a sitting position, she notched the arrow and took sight. The arrow twanged and sped to its bloody bed, and as it pierced the boar the forest exploded with an unearthly shriek of pain. The Huntress was rushing forward before the sound died. She surged through the stream to where the boar’s body should have been and gasped in horror.

The raven lay on the muddy ground with a bloody arrow piercing its chest.

“Mother!” she cried, sinking down to her forelegs beside the twitching bird.

Avenge me! The words screamed through Brighid’s mind, and then the bird lay still, its eyes turning milky with death. Brighid’s hand did not tremble as she stretched it out to touch the blood-soaked feathers of the dark bird. The instant her fingers made contact with the raven its body vanished, and Brighid found herself kneeling beside the dead boar.

“Oh, Epona, what does it mean? What has happened?”

There was no answer from the Goddess, and, feeling lost and alone, Brighid made herself bow her head and speak the traditional words to honor the spirit of the fallen boar. As she dressed the corpse and readied it to be carried back to Clan MacCallan she was filled with a terrible, unspeakable sense of dread.

“Brighid! Brighid! Brighid! I’ve been watching for you!” Liam began chattering at her as soon as she passed through the front gates of the castle.

“The boy’s been waiting all morning,” the sentry called down.

Brighid tried to shake off the sense of unease that had followed her from the forest. She flashed a strained smile up at the man. “But has he been waiting quietly?”

The sentry’s hearty laugh was answer enough.

“I didn’t know I had to be quiet inside the castle,” Liam muttered as he fell into step beside the Huntress. Then his eyes went big and round as he inspected the well-wrapped carcass she had strapped securely to the tether lines she dragged behind her. “What did you get?”

“You tell me,” she said. “No!” She spoke sharply when he started to pull up a flap in the leather skin in which the boar was wrapped. “Use your sense of smell.”

“But I don’t-” he began, but one look from her silenced him. “I’ll use my sense of smell,” he said.

“Good. Use it all the way to the kitchen.”

“I like the kitchen. It always smells good in there, and I like Wynne. She’s really pretty with all that red hair and-” Another pointed look from Brighid made him clamp his lips together. “I’ll scent the animal.”

Brighid returned the friendly hellos from clan members as she followed the grassy path to the rear kitchen entrance. She didn’t worry about unexpectedly meeting Cuchulainn. She knew he wasn’t inside the castle walls. How she knew it she didn’t damn well understand-but she could Feel his absence.

More good news, she thought, feeling like she was coming to the end of her tolerance for mysterious signs from the spirit world. The centaur’s jaws clenched. She just wanted to be a Huntress-to live and hunt and have a secure, predictable life.

Just as she entered the gate to the kitchen gardens, she noticed several of the older winged children bent over wilted-looking rows of herbs and vegetables, digging, weeding and watering. She only had a moment to wonder how they had convinced the overprotective Wynne to allow them into her precious gardens, when Liam’s voice bubbled up like an irrepressible spring.

“It smells like…like…like-” Liam took another big, audible sniff “-like mud and anger!”

Brighid stopped and looked back at him. “What did you say?”

He scuffed his taloned feet in the grass. “It smells like mud and anger?”

“How do you know that?”

He looked up at her with big eyes and shrugged his shoulders, wincing only slightly as the movement made his bandaged wing stir. “I don’t know. It’s just what it smells like to me. Is that wrong?”

“No,” she said. “That is exactly right. Boars always smell like mud and anger.” Before he could begin hopping around in victory, she took his arm. “Be still and close your eyes.”

Amazingly enough, the boy actually obeyed her. He froze and closed his eyes. She glanced around. The winged children were so busy prodding and pampering the plants that they hardly spared her a glance. For the moment, at least, she and Liam had some measure of privacy.

“Breathe deeply in and slowly out. Three times,” she said, watching him closely.

He did as she commanded.

“Now, picture a boar in the forest.”

“I don’t know what a boar looks like,” he said hesitantly.

“It doesn’t matter. You don’t have to picture the animal. Just think about the way it smells. Can you do that?”

He nodded his head vigorously.

“While you think about the way it smells, imagine the forest and imagine that you’re looking for an animal that smells of mud and anger. Tell me what you see.”

Liam’s brow wrinkled as he concentrated. Then his brows shot up. “I see a bright red splotchy light!”

She couldn’t believe it. The boy had the soul of a Huntress. She smiled. She had a winged apprentice who seemed more centaur than Fomorian, and she was in love with a human man. The smile grew into laughter. And she had wanted an uncomplicated life? Obviously Epona had other plans for her.

Liam peeked one eye partially open at her. “Did I say something funny?”

“No, my young apprentice. You said the exact right thing. Again. I’m just laughing at life.”

“Why?” he asked, opening both his eyes.

“Because sometimes it’s either laugh or cry. I prefer laugh. How about you?”

He grinned. “Laugh!”

“Och, there ye are!” Wynne stood, hands on hips, legs planted wide, in the rear doorway of her kitchen. The cook’s smile flashed. “I can tell ye honestly, Huntress, that I am greatly pleased that yer back home where ye belong.”

Brighid’s laughter still danced in her eyes. “Thank you, Wynne.” She nodded her chin in the direction of the busy winged children. “I was just wondering how they managed to win their way into your sacred gardens.”

“The bairns seem to know a thing or two about plants and herbs and such, and I thought to keep their wee hands busy. Besides, it has been a long, dry spring, and my herbs need the extra pampering.” Her imperious gaze swept over the gardens and the children. “But donna fash yourself. I’m keeping my eye on them.”

Little heads turned up with toothy smiles. Brighid was surprised to see Wynne’s face soften in response.

“You like children,” she said, more than a little shocked.

Wynne’s emerald gaze came back to the Huntress and her full lips tilted up. “I canna deny it. I like the life bonny young ones bring to a castle.”

“Huh,” Brighid said, thinking that Wynne wouldn’t like it so much if she’d been alone with seventy of them.

“Donna use that tone with me, lassie, not when I see what is following ye around.” She pointed at Liam.

Brighid cleared her throat. “Wynne, have you met my apprentice?”

“No, but I’ve word of him.” She gave the boy an appraising look. “Another good Huntress ’tis always welcome in a kitchen.”

“He’ll be a good Huntress,” Brighid said, causing Liam’s chest to swell. “Someday,” she added before the boy exploded.

“Well then, young Liam,” Wynne said, moving out of the doorframe to join them. “What is it ye have brought me?”

“Boar!” Liam said proudly.

“Did ya now?” Wynne clapped her hands together. “Wild boar! Goddess ’tis good to have ye home, Brighid! Bring it in-bring it in.” Her gleeful tone changed quickly to that of a warrior in command. “But mind where yer walkin’! Have a care with the young mint and basil shoots. This horrid dry weather has practically shriveled my garden to death.” When the Huntress and boy moved too slowly, she tapped her foot impatiently. “I dinna mean for ye to turn to molasses! Get the beastie in here. ’Tis none too soon for the dinner meal.”