Shadows and Light

played with the pegged clothes as she filled one line and went on to the next.
    A few years ago, she and Keely had made a large flower bed of roses and lavender behind the clotheslines so that the wind would carry the scent over the clean clothes. A simple thing, but it pleased her every time she hung out the wash, and every time she slipped a tunic over her head and caught a hint of those mixed scents.
    The message on the western wind a few days ago had been filled with warmth and humor. Aiden and Lyrra had reached the village in the Mother’s Hills where her kin lived. She wondered if Aiden had sung any new songs—and she wondered if Skelly had told Lyrra any stories about his sweet granny. At another time, she would have been tempted to escort them the whole way herself, but the things Aiden and Lyrra had said about the Black Coats had made her uneasy about leaving her mother and grandmother.
    And she wondered, as she’d wondered since the morning they left, why Aiden and Lyrra had reacted to her parting words the way they did.
    Merry meet, and merry part, and merry meet again. A common saying among family and friends—at least among those who were of the House of Gaian. But they’d looked at her as if she’d given them a key piece to a difficult puzzle.
    Breanna shrugged, pegged a pillowcase to the third line. Perhaps one day they’d ride back this way and she could ask them why a simple saying had seemed so important.
    She was halfway down the line when she heard a flutter of wings and caught the movement of something large and brown out of the corner of her eye. Turning her head slowly, she studied the hawk that was perched on one of the posts.
    “Blessings of the day to you, brother hawk.”
    She’d never seen a hawk quite that big before. No jesses, which meant it was a wild hawk. What could interest a wild hawk enough that it would perch on a post so close to where people lived and worked, not to mention the linens gently flapping in the breeze? Granted, sitting on that post would give a sharp-eyed bird a good view of the back lawn, gardens, and stables, but...
    “Are you here because you spotted a few rats you thought might be tasty? If you have spotted any, you’
    re welcome to them.” She’d have to ask Clay if he’d seen any sign of rats. She didn’t mind field mice—

    unless they got into the house— but rats weren’t to her liking.
    Since the hawk seemed content to perch on the post, she went back to pegging the sheet to the line.
    When her basket was empty and the line was full, she turned and saw the pillowcase nearest the post dangling by one peg—and the other peg firmly under one of the hawk’s taloned feet.
    The hawk seemed to be studying the brown, hard object it had captured.
    “Ah, come on now,” Breanna said, walking toward it slowly. “Come on. That’s of no use to you. You can’t eat it. You wouldn’t even bother chewing on it. Come on now. Give it up.”
    How had it gotten the clothes-peg to begin with? Breanna wondered as she continued walking toward the hawk. Pulled it off the line with its beak? Whatever for?
    “Here now,” Breanna said, raising one hand toward the hawk. “Give it back and I’ll—” She’d what?
    Offer him a bit of cold beef? He might like it, even if it was cooked, but she wasn’t sure feeding him would be a good idea.
    She reached for the peg.
    The hawk raised his wings, making him look much, much bigger than he already did. He bent so that his beak hovered above the clothes-peg—and he watched her.
    Mother’s tits! This was worse than dealing with Idjit. And, she had to admit, she felt a lot more wary of the hawk’s talons and beak than she did of Idjit’s teeth. Maybe because she saw a lot more intelligence in the hawk’s eyes than she’d ever seen in the dog’s.
    “Give it back,” Breanna said quietly, firmly.
    The hawk grabbed the clothes-peg with its beak and flew off, the downsweep of its wings almost hitting her in the face, making her duck.
    “You... thief.” Incensed, Breanna chased the bird until grass gave way to the woods and the hawk disappeared among the trees.
    “Thief!” Breanna shouted, shaking her fist. “You’re nothing but a featherheaded thief! If you steal from us again, I’ll pluck you and we’ll have hawk surprise one night for the evening meal. Thief !”
    “Breanna!” Nuala panted, having run from the house. “Whatever is the matter?”
    Breanna whirled to face her grandmother. “That