Watch Wolf

paradox that the most depraved of all the clans has never produced an actual
malcadh.
It’s as if their spirits have been deformed rather than their bodies. In a manner, that is much worse than any physical flaw.” The Obea heaved a great sigh and shut her eyes tightly, as if she could not bear to say what was coming next. “When I found out I was barren, I was relieved. I didn’t want to pass on the bad blood of the clan.”
    “But look at the MacNamara clan,” said Edme. “They’ve produced fine wolves and they were founded by MacHeaths.”
    “Yes, almost a thousand years ago. The first Namara was a MacHeath wolf named Hordweard. Even to this day, some she-wolves of the MacHeath clan find their way to the MacNamara clan. The name Hordweard, of course, is cursed within our clan.”
    “It’s not my clan anymore,” Edme said stubbornly. “Anyway, I never heard the name Hordweard.”
    “Well, it’s a forbidden word. But it’s odd about thingslike that; the more forbidden, the more attractive they become. Throughout the centuries, there’s been a secret Hordweard Society within the MacHeath clan. Sometimes it dies out for generations, but then it reappears and a few she-wolves strong of spirit leave and seek the MacNamara clan.”
    By this time, their snow pit had become a puddle. “Isn’t this weather odd?” said Airmead. “It was very clever of you to play on the clan’s superstitions about such things. It might divert their anger for a while.”
    “You mean about my rejection of the clan.”
    “Yes. All they’ve ever wanted is representation at the Watch, you know.”
    “I didn’t want to tell them who told me about my eye.”
    “They’ll find out. They always do.”
    “What will they do if they find outwhat you told me?” Edme asked.
    “It won’t matter.”
    “Why not?”
    “I’ll be gone.” Airmead hesitated but then continued, “I think I’m one of the last members of the Hordweard Society. And I plan to seek out the MacNamara clan.I’ve had it with the MacHeaths. It took me a while to getmy courage up to leave, because if they find out, they’ll set a
byrrgis
on me and kill me. Tear me apart.”
    “Were there other members before you?”
    “One.”
    “Who was it?” Edme asked.
    Airmead’s eyes were such a green that they were clear, almost translucent. She looked at Edme, and her jaw began to tremble.
    “Who?” Edme pressed.
    “Your mother, Edme.”
    Edme felt a dizzying nausea swirl up within her. She shut her eyes.
    Airmead continued, “Your mother’s name was Akira. She left when they tore your eye out.”
    “Did she make it to the MacNamara clan?”
    Airmead’s head dropped and she shook it sadly. “She was brave, Edme. Oh, my, she was brave. That scar that runs across the chieftain’s face down to his neck?”
    Edme nodded.
    “That was what she did to him. She was going for his eye as he had gone for yours.”

CHAPTER SEVEN
T ATTERS
    FAOLAN GASPED. “YOUR MOTHER gave Dunbar MacHeath his scar?” Edme nodded at him. They had met up again near the marsh where they’d seen the frost-covered spiderweb. Faolan was dizzy with what Edme had told him. The false
tummfraw.
Her maiming. Her mother’s courage and Edme’s own courage in rejecting her clan.
    “There was one more thing I forgot to tell you,” Edme said.
    More!
Faolan thought.
What more could there be?
    “I never realized how truly superstitious the MacHeaths are. But when it started to snow, I took a chance because they were all pretty tipsy on Litha juice and I thought it might play to my advantage. I wanted them confused.”
    “So what did you do?”
    “I commented on the strange weather for this moon. I said not since the Ice March out of the Long Cold had there been snow in this moon.”
    Faolan tipped his head to one side. “You did?” An odd light seemed to glimmer deep within his eyes. He rubbed his splayed paw into the ground.
    “Yes. Do you think that was wrong?” Edme asked, suddenly nervous.
    “No, no, not at all.”
    But as Edme looked at Faolan, it seemed as if he had withdrawn to some distant, unreachable place. Something within Faolan stirred like the tatters of a long-forgotten dream.
    “But what will the Fengo say?” Edme asked.
    “About what?” Faolan blinked. He snapped back to his old self, as if he had just taken a wander and then slipped into his own pelt once again.
    “Will he reject me because I am not a true gnaw wolf?”
    “But you won — you proved