Before the twenty-fifth full moon
By the end of the third day of walking, we stood at Cadair Tor, a turret of weathered granite atop the low mountains that bordered Fawryn Moor. Both Tanwen and I had to shield our eyes from the glare of the setting sun. Even Owain-the-hen, perched on my shoulder, hid her head under her wing.
“There.” Tanwen pointed to a dark line stretching diagonally across the moor. “That’s one of the old barrow roads the ancients traveled to bury their dead.” I remembered the chieftain who’d become the Hunt-Lord, how he’d been called to the Otherworld before he could take his family and captains to the barrow. “Even now, the Hunt respects that road. So the Queen’s hound-men respect it as well, for tracking you is their own twisted Hunt. If I understand aright, there’s another barrow road beyond this one. If we can cross that road, you’ll be safe—at least for a while.”
I glared at her.
“We will be safe,” she amended.
That night we didn’t build a fire. There was little fuel for it on the moor, but even if there had been, we wouldn’t have used it. The Hunters would be able to see us creeping along like insects if they stood on the mountains. There was no need to draw further attention with a fire.
We crossed the second barrow road after four days and kept walking beyond that. We needed to find a lake for my brothers—and nettles. Passing beyond the barrow roads offered us protection for at least a year. Nettles would shield us after that.
* * *
We traveled a week till we found a town where I could buy clothes and other supplies for Tanwen. She remained hidden while I went into the town. I didn’t dare risk having her with me: her red hair was too memorable if someone came searching for her.
After another week’s travel, we’d found a hiding place among the ruins of the ancients who built their fortresses on great mounds. The ruins sat at the top of a tree-covered hill near the sea. The west side of the hill sloped down to a rocky beach and the sea beyond. On clear days, we could see the shores of Eyre like a gray cloud on the horizon. The east side of the hill sheltered a lake that would, in turn, shelter my swan-brothers.
I’d heard tales that stinging nettles loved old stone, and they were right: nettles grew throughout the ruins and crept in long swaths down the hill. Tanwen and I cleared the nettles out of a ruined foundation and built a small shelter against the tilting remains of a wall. I knew my brothers would help us build a sturdier home before winter.
But first, my brothers needed to know that Tanwen was here. I wondered if their swan selves would guess the miracle, for Tanwen watched them for hours once they reached the lake.
Finally, the night of the full moon, Tanwen and I awaited the transformation. The roar of the sea filled our lives now, and I’d thought I’d heard the wind that heralded my brothers’ change at least twice only to discover I’d been mistaken.
Tanwen squeezed my hand till it hurt. “How much longer, Ryn? I don’t know if I can—”
And then the wind caught us, blowing down from the hilltop, making the nettles bow and dance, catching my swan-brothers and—
“Ryn? Ryn!” That was Aiden. “Where are we?”
“. . . clothes are here . . . ,” said someone. “She’s fine.”
I tugged on Tanwen’s hand: Say something!
Yet the only sound was the scuffling and murmuring of my brothers as they dressed.
“Aiden.” Tanwen’s voice broke, and I felt her pulse pounding in her fingertips.
Silence, then. Not a word, not even a twitch from my shadowy brothers.
Then I heard footsteps. Slow. Wary.
Aiden emerged from the dim by the lake’s edge, carrying a branch like a weapon. He stiffened when he saw the figure beside me, drawing the branch back to deliver a blow.
“It’s me, Aiden.” Tanwen released my hand and stepped toward him.
He turned to me, unbelieving.
I nodded.
He covered the distance between them in two strides. Tanwen reached up, pushed his hair out of his eyes, and smiled up at him. Then Aiden crushed her close, as if that could make up for all the time they’d been apart.
My other brothers crowded around them. Gavyn touched Tanwen’s shoulder, just to be sure it was her. Owain grinned, and Cadan brushed at his eyes.
But Aiden and Tanwen didn’t notice any of it. After a moment, Mael said, “Lead on, Ryn-girl. Let’s give them a little while to themselves.”
Declan nodded and shooed Gavyn and Owain toward us. I led them up the hill, on a path we’d cleared through the nettles, to the fire and food Tanwen and I had prepared.
How we celebrated when Aiden and Tanwen joined us! The Kingstone was passed from hand to hand as we pieced together all that had happened since the enchantment was begun. After spending time among the Hunters, Tanwen could finally tell my brothers who the wolf men were and how the Queen called them here when they were not required at the Hunt. I tried not to look smug as she confirmed that nettles did somehow thwart them and that she believed they limited the Queen’s power too.
I knew that it must be easier for my brothers to understand—and believe—the details of the enchantment when it was explained with words rather than signs, when Tanwen could answer their questions directly. But I still savored the moment when they realized that I’d been right all along about the nettles and the Hunters.
I grinned when Tanwen scolded Aiden for throwing away the spindle, hackle, and fiber—the things that would save him!—nearly a year ago. But Aiden wasn’t anywhere near crestfallen. I think he would have borne a beating with a smile just to have Tanwen near again.
To their credit, my brothers apologized in grand style, exclaiming over the work I’d completed. Then Declan told every embarrassing story he could remember of all of them just to make Tanwen and me laugh.
And laugh we did—my hand pressed over my mouth so no sound would escape—till Owain-the-hen flapped down from her perch and wandered out into the night so she could find a little peace.