Children of the Moon 04 - Dragon's Moon

turned and did her best to wrap the sword again in the Donegal plaid.
    “When you had your vision, were you touching it?” Eirik asked, pointing to the not-nearly-so-neatly wrapped bundle as the one she’d taken from the trunk.
    “How did you know?”
    “I did not, that is why I asked.”
    “Oh, well…I was. Touching it, I mean.” She sounded like a simpleton and it was all his fault.
    “Mayhap we should bring it with us on this quest to find the Faolchú Chridhe then.”
    “It is too big for me to wear.”
    His lips quirked as if he thought her observation amusing. “It is a man’s sword. I will wear it with my own.”
    “Two swords?” She’d seen other warriors with such, but only one long sword and one short one. She’d never seen a warrior carry two long swords before.
    “It would be too heavy,” she protested without thinking.
    Eirik laughed, his head thrown back, the sound booming in the small bedchamber. “I am a dragon shifter. I could carry an arsenal on my back and still fight with ease.”
    No doubt that was true, and she would have thought of it, were her mind not still muddled from his kiss. Regardless, she hesitated to bring her brother’s sword.
    “I will not keep it, if that is what worries you. Nor will I lose it. I know the value of our heritage.”
    “I know.” She frowned at Eirik, not understanding why he would even think she would be afraid of such a thing. “You might be irritating beyond measure and too arrogant for any one man, but you are no thief and are certainly not likely to misplace a Chrechte king’s sword.”
    He was a bloody selfless prince of his people, not even a mere man.
    Eirik’s lips quirked in a wry smile. “I’m not sure if that is praise or condemnation.”
    “Like you need praise to add to your overweening confidence.”
    “Do you not know? It is only overweening if it is not justified. Mine is.”
    “No doubt.” He sounded just like her father.
    “If not fear of losing it, then why hesitate to bring the sword?”
    There was nothing for it but to tell him the truth. “I don’t want to touch it again.”
    If she could avoid another waking vision, so much the better.
    “You may have no choice.”
    “If we have it with us, that is certainly true.”
    “You are no coward.”
    “I’m not.” Though sometimes she wanted to be.
    “We bring the sword.”
    She sighed but relented. “Oh, very well.”
    He picked it up and donned the scabbard so the sword’s handle rested opposite his own on the other side of his back. “You can finish gathering your things later. We need to find the Sinclair.”
    He talked as if she would need some measure of time to do so, but she did not. Making quick work of folding her old Donegal plaid, she put it in the trunk. Then, she grabbed the blanket from her bed before she folded it with a single fur into a bundle she tied with a leather strap. “This is all I need.”
    “You are certain?” he asked with a surprised frown.
    “Yes.”
    “I expected you to bring more…fripperies.”
    “Why?”
    “You are a woman.”
    “Éan women find fripperies necessary, do they?” She could not see it.
    The women of his people she’d seen so far among her clan were quite minimalistic in their dress and appearance. Over time, that might change, but for now they still lived much as she was sure they had in the forest.
    “No.” He packed a world of the absurdity at such a thought in that single word.
    The Sinclair women were not much more focused on their appearance than the Éan that had come to live among them though. “Then why believe I would take a trunk full to travel?”
    Not that she thought he would ever stand for that kind of an unwieldy burden on their quest.
    Eirik gave a significant look to Ciara’s dress and understanding dawned.
    “It is like the cross between a clanswoman and an English woman’s dress. I know. And with too many layers for an easy shift into my wolf form, but Abigail does not despise her homeland like we do. She has no notion of dressing to make a shift easy and quick.”
    Eirik frowned. “The laird has not told her that it would be better for you to dress as the other clanswomen?”
    “He does not wish to hurt her feelings and no more do I.”
    “Hurt feelings cannot always be avoided.”
    “I know.” She lived in a keep filled with Chrechte warriors, after all. They were not well acquainted with subtlety or tact, though they tried with their lady. “Abigail has been too