Morag knelt in front of the open window, her chin resting on her crossed arms. Quiet conversations drifted up to her from the inn’s garden courtyard where men and women were enjoying a still summer night. The voices were nothing more than sounds, as soothing as air flirting with leaves or water murmuring over stone. Just another part of the Mother, those voices. Not surprising, since she was in the part of Sylvalan ruled by the House of Gaian. She was in the Mother’s Hills.
Odd how she’d never thought to describe Tir Alainn to Ari and Neall but found herself trying to remember everything she could about these hills. When she returned home, she wanted to tell them about the horses, the people, the land…and the shadow hounds.
As she followed the innkeeper across the courtyard, she spotted the children playing with a litter of puppies under the shadow hound bitch’s watchful eyes. She walked over to them, unable to resist getting a better look at the little bundles of fur.
“Hadn’t intended to breed her,” the innkeeper said, grinning. “But females of all kinds are tempted to take a walk on the night of the Summer Moon.”
She knelt and picked up the little bitch of the litter, who was more black than gray and had tan markings on her legs and face. An adorable bundle of fur.
Cuddling the puppy, she looked up at the innkeeper. “What are you going to do with them?”
“Oh, most of them are already spoken for,” the innkeeper replied. “Pure shadow hounds are hunters, but a shadow hound mix tends to be happiest with a family where it can be both companion and protector. So there’s no worry about any of them finding a place around here.”
Reluctantly, she put the puppy down and got to her feet. She wanted that little bitch. Merle had never been hers, not really. She wanted something of her own to care for and cuddle. And Ari and Neall wouldn’t mind having another shadow hound around the Old Place.
The innkeeper studied her. “The little bitch isn’t spoken for yet.”
She hesitated, then shook her head. “I’m headed for Willowsbrook. I couldn’t take her with me.”
The innkeeper nodded. “Lots of folks traveling to Willowsbrook lately. Tell you what. The pups aren’t ready to leave their mother quite yet. I’ll hold her for a while longer, and you think on it. If you decide you don’t want her, just send a message back and I’ll let her go to someone else.”
Morag rested her forehead on her arms. She’d reach Willowsbrook in four days. Maybe three if the dark horse and her escorts’ horses could maintain the pace. She’d get there in time to help Ashk and the Huntress stop the Witch’s Hammer from devouring any more of Sylvalan. And when it was over, they would all go home.
Aching and stiff from long days in the saddle, Morag rose and got ready for bed. As she blew out the bedside candle and settled down to sleep, she thought about the feel of the puppy’s fur and its eagerness to belong to someone.
She would give the innkeeper her answer in the morning. The puppy would stay here a while longer, waiting for her in a land that flowed with the power of life while she rode to a place that would be a banquet for Death.