The Winter

Chapter 4

Gàidhlig - Gaelic
(If I've missed anything you want the pronunciation of, comment and let me know!)

A mhamaidh - mum/mummy (ah vammy)

A ghràidh - dear (ah ghrye)

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Should Eabha heed her father's warning about the lives Hati has taken? There's no denying Hati is as deadly a wolf as his brother. . .

Chapter 4

"I don't know where to begin, a Mhamaidh."

I twined a loose thread from the folded blanket on my lap around my fingers so I wouldn't have to look my mother in the eye, weaving it around the digits again and again until it began to chafe. But I couldn't stop. As soon as Mother sat down on my bed, I knew this would be one of the hardest things I had to do; telling her what Father had been hiding, and what I'd been hiding from them both in turn. . .

They were already upset about Bruadar. His death had shrouded the entire castle in silent mourning. Laughter and conversation didn't echo off the walls as it usually did and normally rushing pack members went about their chores with slow shuffling movements and creased brows. Most every wolf who had skill with a weapon boasted sharp looking axes hanging from their belts, or glinting swords strapped across their backs.

Enough had gotten out about the manner of his death; that it was no accident. I'd even glimpsed knives hidden in the folds of skirts and cloaks, but more worryingly was the way I was avoided like the plague once more. Either Cerri's reaction to me that morning had gotten out too, or people simply didn't want to be near the female who heard the dead at such a time. Not that I minded being left alone; it gave me time to think over exactly what I was going to say, even if at the moment, I'd forgotten every planned word. They'd fled from my lips when I found my family all piled into my parent's den.

Oighrig had been feeding Seumas while my siblings played a game of rough and tumble on the floor. Mother had tried to hide that she wiped her red rimmed eyes in between weaving her offering to Macha for Bruadar, and Fionnlagh had been pacing the floor much like my father was doing now.

My parents hadn't uttered a word when I ushered then into my room.

Father must have known what I intended to do. Rigid anxiety stiffened his steps as he made his way towards the door then turned on his heel to stride right back to the window. His lips were pinched together and dark brows were drawn down over equally dark eyes as he cast a furtive glance my way.

I couldn't meet his gaze anymore than I could my mother's.

This wasn't the right time for more doom and gloom, I knew that, but I feared there would never be a right time. How could there be? All I had to cling onto was the knowledge my mother was a gentle soul who would rather placate than fight. She would be disappointed in me for keeping secrets, in Father too perhaps, but not angry. I hoped.

"Start wherever you feel comfortable, my female," mother urged, but there was a tightness to her voice that told me she knew she wouldn't like what I had to say.

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I raised my head and began, "There's something you should know about me. . ."

After those simple words, it came spilling out of me like a dam overflowing in a torrent of water too fast to control. I told her everything. The whole sordid, ugly truth.