Children of the Moon 04 - Dragon's Moon

weak, being what I thought was the last of my race.”
    “There are other eagles?”
    “Not many, but yes, there are some. I had my coming-of-age without the Clach Gealach Gra .”
    “What does that mean?”
    “It meant that if I had my way and had destroyed it, I would not be a healer.” He looked away from her, over the water, its gray surface telling him nothing new. “I do not know if I can give my mate children, if I can pass on my eagle.”
    “I don’t understand.”
    “Anya-Gra said I was healed by the sacred stone, but I don’t know if she meant my heart or my body.”
    “Who is Anya-Gra?”
    “The spiritual leader among the Éan.”
    “If the stone gave you the power of healing, surely it healed anything else.”
    “I thought so at first, too, but now that I am charged with healing others, I know better than most that power comes with a cost and that healing is rarely complete with Chrechte power alone.”
    “Oh.”
    “I don’t deserve to be healed completely,” he admitted.
    “Now you are being an idiot.”
    “It’s true. I would have killed my laird’s lady.”
    “The Donegal laird?”
    “Aye.”
    “She’s raven?”
    “She is.”
    “But you did not kill her.”
    “I tried.”
    “How?”
    “With an arrow.”
    “So, you are a poor shot.”
    “No. I was one of the best in our clan.”
    “Then you must not have tried very hard.”
    ’Twas what Barr had said at the time, but Lais would never forget his guilt. “In time, you will find a mate worthy of you and you will forget this crush you have on me.”
    Mairi’s eyes narrowed. “Will I, then?”
    He nodded, but she was no longer looking at him. Her brows were drawn together in thought and he was fairly certain it did not bode well for him.
    T he Balmoral soldiers had a small hut cleverly disguised by outer bracken, so one had to be almost upon it before seeing it was not merely part of the forest.
    Inside, it was clean if small. Two bedrolls were tied and stacked neatly against the far wall. Matching benches that could seat two in a pinch were on either side of the fire pit in the center of the hut.
    The pit smoldered in the fashion of a fire that had been recently banked. Gart poked at it and blew on it until a small blaze caught the fresh wood Artair laid across it. They worked in a unison that told of longtime friendship and training together.
    “We’ll heat stew for our supper,” Artair said with a smile for Ciara.
    Gart harrumphed and grabbed the stew pot from a shelf on the nearest wall. He hung it by its handle from the tri-legged iron stand over the fire. The big soldier grabbed wooden cups from the same shelf and Artair poured wine from a skin into them before adding water from a bucket.
    He served Eirik first. She thought it was because the Éan was a prince, but Eirik took a sip of the watered wine before handing the cup to Ciara.
    He’d been testing it for her safety. “If you trust them with your secret, surely you can trust them to serve us a drink.”
    He ignored her and took his own cup from the Chrechte soldier.
    She frowned, but took a sip of her drink, suddenly realizing how very thirsty she was. She should have drunk more water on the journey here, but she had been preoccupied with her thoughts and conversation with Eirik.
    Artair indicated one of the benches with his hand. “Please, sit.”
    She took his offer with alacrity, only to nearly jump out of her skin when Eirik joined her on the small bench. He pressed against her side from hip to shoulder. She tried to bump him with her hip, but he didn’t move.
    He could be a gentleman and choose to sit on the floor, but perhaps those kinds of manners were not taught among the Éan. Him sitting so close was indecent though.
    And she did not care that she had ridden his dragon not a half an hour past. ’Twas not the same. No, it was not. And she would tell him so. Later.
    The two warriors shared the other bench, instead of one of them taking the floor, too. She supposed it made sense,but she did not like the way her body heated in inappropriate places at his closeness.
    The Balmoral soldiers started to pepper Eirik with questions of what it was like to be a dragon.
    “Do you see with colors?” Artair asked.
    It was a fair question. Wolves did not.
    Eirik nodded. “My vision is very good as well.”
    “Better than your raven?” Artair asked.
    “Much.”
    Both soldiers went silent to give that truth the respect it deserved.
    Then Gart asked,