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Tom lay on his back staring at the Wolf Moon, which had now returned to its normal size. He ached all over and felt strange. People clustered at the edge of his vision, and he heard Arthur yelling, “This is your fault! I can’t believe you have been so stupid!”
Merlin and Nimue replied, but he couldn’t tell what they were saying.
Beansprout leaned over him. “Tom, Tom. Thank goodness. You’re awake.”
Woodsmoke was on his other side, leaning over him too. “Let’s help you sit up, Tom.”
Tom was dazed, but saw him exchange a worried look with Beansprout as he reached out to squeeze her hand. Woodsmoke put his arm under Tom’s shoulders and sat him up.
Tom’s vision swam for a few seconds and then everything focused. The fire still burned in the centre of the grove, and Galatine sat in the moonstone, the firelight flickering along the blade. He could even see the stones swirling lazily in the hilt. He could see Rahal sitting by Filtiarn who still lay prone, surrounded by the wolves who sat and whined, or lay next to him on the ground. But Elan sat at Tom’s feet looking at him, ashen.
Arthur was standing arguing with Nimue and Merlin, Bloodmoon and Brenna either side of him, Bloodmoon with a restraining hand on Arthur’s arm.
Tom looked beyond them into the trees and realised he could see further than normal. The night was less dense. He could see the shapes of leaves and bushes, the tiniest details that should be impossible for him to discern. And he could hear things in the undergrowth – the scuttle of small things, the presence of dryads who remained firmly out of sight, and birds ruffling feathers in their nests. He could smell things too. Everyone had a distinct scent. He turned to Beansprout. “You smell of blossom. It’s pretty.”
“Blossom?” She looked confused.
“And you smell of some sort of musk,” he said to Woodsmoke. “And pine.”
“Do I now?” Woodsmoke said, a worried look on his face.
“And I can smell Brenna. She smells of mountain air, with a hint of snow.”
As if she’d heard her name, Brenna turned and saw him sitting up. She smiled, relief washing across her face, and prodded Arthur. “Arthur, he‘s awake.”
Arthur broke off and raced over, dropping to his side. “Tom. How are you? Are you all right? Can you feel that ... thing inside you?”
“I’m fine Arthur, slow down.” Tom felt a weird calm settle over him, despite the knowledge that some kind of supernatural boar was inside him.
“You’re not fine. You are far from fine,” Arthur said crossly.
Woodsmoke cut him off, “Arthur, stop it. We don’t need this right now.”
Arthur glared at Woodsmoke. “What do you suggest?”
“Some rational thinking. And you can stop glaring, it won’t work with me.” Woodsmoke turned back to Tom. “Let’s get you to your feet, shall we?”
Tom nodded, and with Beansprout’s help, stood up on slightly shaky legs. Elan remained with him, silently watching.
Tom shook off their help. “I’m OK. I’ll stretch my legs for a few minutes.”
He took a few faltering steps, and quickly felt stronger, a rush of adrenalin coursing through him. He headed to Rahal’s side. “How’s Filtiarn?”
“Still unconscious,” she said, looking up at him, her eyes bright with tears. “But his breathing’s stable. I think he’ll be all right.”
“We should put him by the fire,” Tom said. And without thinking he picked him up as if he was as light as a feather, and carried him to the fireside, throwing his cloak over him. Rahal and the wolves followed, settling around Filtiarn again.
“How did you do that?” Woodsmoke said from behind him.
Tom turned to find everyone watching him. “I don’t know. I just did.”
Elan spoke. “It’s the boar, of course. It’s given you extra strength.”
Tom looked up at the Wolf Moon. He felt it was laughing at him, and the realisation hit him. “When will I turn?”
Nimue answered, her face drawn. “Two weeks, when the cycle ends, unless we can do something.”
The arguing started again.
“We’ll make another potion,” Arthur said angrily.
“The curse is bound to Galatine,” Merlin said. “Which is bound to Tom. To make it leave Tom, Galatine must be bound to someone else. It’s a never-ending curse. I think that’s what this phrase must mean.”
“Oh! Now you know what it means!” Arthur spat. “Well done Merlin.”
Beansprout started to cry. “Please don’t, Arthur. Today is bad enough. It’s my fault too.”
Woodsmoke wrapped Beansprout in a hug, and she buried her face in his shoulder.
Arthur looked stricken. “No, I didn’t mean ...”
“All of you stop. Right now,” Tom said. “This isn’t helping.”
Bloodmoon pulled a small flask from his pocket, removed the stopper and took a long drink. He passed it to Arthur. “We need to think this through. Let’s sit.”
Arthur looked as if he was going to argue again, but instead raised the flask to his lips.
Tom shot Bloodmoon a grateful look and threw more wood on the fire. He pulled Galatine free from the moonstone and sat on the Avalon stone, warming his feet.
“What do you want to do, Tom?” Bloodmoon asked, sitting on the ground next to Filtiarn and Rahal.
“Find Giolladhe. It seems to me that’s my only way out of this.”
“I agree. Where do we start?”
Tom smiled. He liked that Bloodmoon was letting him lead rather than telling him what to do. “Good question. There are four realms to find him in, and only two weeks in which to do so.” He laughed dryly. “That’s not so hard, right?”
“There are places he’ll be known to have favoured. We can start there,” Woodsmoke suggested. He had stopped comforting Beansprout and they both sat near the fire, passing another flask back and forth. The two of them were so comfortable together, it was as if something was unspoken between them. Woodsmoke looked at Beansprout in a different way to anyone else. Tom turned away, suddenly feeling he was spying on them.
The rest of his friends, realising there was little else they could now do, joined them around the fire, except for Brenna who sat next to Tom on the Avalon stone, nudging him gently along to make room. The moon had retreated to its normal place in the sky – if it had ever moved – and a pale yellow light illuminated the grove. It was an oddly comforting scene. Looking round at them all, Tom realised how much they meant to him. They weren’t just his friends, they were his family. To lose them so soon was unthinkable.
“But first we should celebrate,” Tom said, desperate to cheer himself and the others up. “For Filtiarn, it’s over.”
As he spoke Filtiarn blinked and stretched, and Rahal sighed with relief. She eased him upright. “Welcome back,” she said, giving him a shy smile.
“I feel different,” he said, sounding slightly incredulous. “I can’t feel the beast any more.”
The joy faded from Rahal’s face. “No, it has left you, but moved elsewhere ...” Her voice trailed off.
Filtiarn immediately looked at Elan, but he shook his head and nodded towards Tom.
“No. It can’t be,” he stammered. “How can this have happened?”
“It doesn’t matter how,” Tom said, reluctant to have the argument start again. “Did the beast make you stronger? You said you could feel it.”
Filtiarn looked bewildered. “At first, but then it just ate at me, using my strength. Now it’s gone, I feel lighter.” He couldn’t help grinning. “I can’t believe it. You’ve done it. But the cost –”
“Forget it,” Tom said, genuinely pleased to see Filtiarn looking so happy. “You’ve carried the burden enough. Enjoy your freedom, Filtiarn.” Suddenly he knew where he needed to be. “I should rest, I’m going to bed.” He stood, and when Woodsmoke went to stand too, said, “No. I want to be alone.” He squeezed Woodsmoke’s shoulder as he passed. “Goodnight everyone.”
And he left the clearing, leaving them talking over his fate.
