The Song Of The Wolf (Edited & Rewritten)

Chapter Six

To say Maebh was having a bad day would be an understatement.

First, she tripped with her crutches and tore half her stitches, resulting in a trip to the infirmary. Then after coming home, breakfast saw a full mug of tea baptise a book. Her favourite, worst of all. The leather-bound one on Greek mythology. She had only just begun reading a story about a deranged king and his twelve sons when it happened. The spill rendered most of the ink indecipherable. She had used a hairdryer to try and salvage the smudges, but the heat exposure had only made the pages more brittle.

The saga of misfortunes continued with an oven malfunction. The cursed thing had doubled the intended cooking time of half an hour, and Maebh was rudely interrupted from her ankle-exercises by the unmistakable stench of biscuits in the throes of death.

As if the universe held a grudge and sensed her tipping point, the doorbell chimed at five o'clock on the dot. Maebh opened the door and her lower lip quivered at the sight of her mother. The floodgates burst open, hot and fast, her composure crumbling.

'W-what are you doing here?' she stammered into her embrace.

'Shame on ye, Wavey, that is no way to welcome us,' Saoirse O'Cleirigh teased in their native tongue, kissing her cheeks and wiping them dry. John O'Cleirigh hobbled into view with two oversized suitcases in tow, bearing a striking resemblance to a sleep-deprived child.

'This wasn't my idea,' he said and marched onward after pecking her cheek in greeting, seemingly unfazed by her dishevelled state. He made a beeline for the guest bedroom like it had not been decades since he had last seen his childhood home.

Maebh cracked a smile. 'How reassuring!'

Her father replied with a strangled grunt.

'Ignore him, he's shattered from all his tossing and turning,' Saoirse said.

Maebh tightened her arms around her mam. 'Missed you.'

'As I missed ye, a stór. And yer da as well. Ye should've seen him during shark week without his trusty shark pal, bleedin' miserable that one.'

Snores resonated from the guest bedroom as her father caught up on some shut-eye. Leaning on one crutch, Maebh guided her mother through her renovated house. Her voice resonated with excitement as she pointed out the carefully selected decor that now adorned the space. Upstairs, she highlighted the upgraded hardware and the transformation of the once-yellowed bathroom fixtures through a fresh coat of paint.

'Yer efforts have paid off, love, ye did a grant job,' her mother praised, drinking in her surroundings, only to halt on the cast enveloping her daughter's ankle.

Maebh could already feel a storm brewing and cringed. 'Right.. I might have downplayed this part a wee bit.'

Her mother shrugged. 'Why d'ye reckon we're here? Coinín rang us, such a darling lad.'

Maebh nearly choked on her own spit. 'Come again?'

'He suspected ye might not have told us the full truth,' her mother chided. 'We hopped on the first available flight.'

Maebh bit her tongue. The cheek of the man! He had all but forbidden his brother from visiting, saying he hindered her healing instead of aiding it. A move she secretly welcomed: Bear's nurse-playing act had quickly grown vexing. But Coinín had also agreed that yes, she would be peachy on her own and no, there was no need for him to hover. She had broken her ankle, not her neck.

'Why on earth would he do that!'

'Cut him some slack, Maebh. Friends like him are hard to come by.'

'He could be a grogoch for all I care, that does not give him the right to take matters into his own hands!' Maebh snapped, throwing her own hands up for emphasis.