The Winter

Chapter 22

And so the hunt begins...

Chapter 22

"Shh, you'll wake your sister."

But I was already awake, and wondering why I could feel cold feet pressed against my thigh, and hear my sister's giggle in my ear. Another lump was wriggling near the bottom of the bed.

"Who dumped them here?" I mumbled, bleary eyed and foggy with sleep.

No light crept past the shutters, and there was a thick silence in the air that only came in the dead of night.

"Your Father. It is. . .um. . .your mother is in need of tending only your father can give."

Ah.

Fionnlagh was probably milking his injuries to get out of having to look after his cousins himself. I couldn't smell my youngest cousin in the room though, which meant my Aunt had probably grabbed him and disappeared before being lumped with my brother and sister as well. Which left only us.

Niamh snuggled into the spot she'd managed to carve out for herself between my mate and I, her words distorted by a sleepy yawn, "Do you think Mamaidh will have another pup in the summer?"

"Maybe."

I doubted she would allow it. Before, she maybe thought about it, but not after losing Mànas. My mother had taught me, like all mother-wolves teach their females, the herbs and berries to eat that would keep one without a pup in their belly even if they'd gone through their time in season with a male. So it would be down to her choice. Father would respect it.

"It is still the early hours, my mate. Sleep more." Hati said as I sat up to see my brother curled up in fur at the end of the bed, his tail curled over his nose.

Soft snores were already coming from my sister, her lips slightly parted in her sleep. She would drool everywhere. And kick. And wriggle.

I tucked her head beneath my chin and wrapped my arm around her waist. Hati grazed his knuckles over her rosy cheek with a glimmer of a smile before he leaned down to press a kiss to my forehead. He lay back down carefully, his long legs at risk of kicking my other brother, and lifted his arm so it covered my sister, his hand resting on my hip.
From the redness rimming his eyes, I wasn't sure he'd slept at all before my father had hurried by, but I hoped he'd find sleep now. Some of my best naps happened when the pack tangled and piled together, mostly in fur in the cold of a winter storm, but with a bed to share, being in skin didn't bother me. As long as Niamh avoided my face with her knobbly elbows.

Despite the horrors of the last few days, watching Hati nod off with my siblings snuggling into his radiating warmth brought a smile to my lips.

When I woke again, a chill had set into my bones, one that was chased away by the sound of laughter.

Peeling an eye open, I was greeted with a sight that made my heart clench. A pup perched on each leg, Hati sat at the small round table overladen with food my siblings happily scarfed down. He picked up a spoonful of porridge, saying, "Grautr."

"Brochan," Niamh replied, using the Gaelic word for it.

Hati repeated it slowly, and might have even blushed when Niamh and Anndra giggled at his attempt. This went on for another few minutes; Hati picking food up and offering the word in his tongue, and then Niamh or Anndra saying the word in ours.

He was learning my tongue, I realised. His expression focussed and studious, alight when my siblings laughed, and pensive in quiet moments as they ate. My brother and sister were doing a better job of keeping my mate distracted than I could. He barely had the chance to eat himself between learning the Gàidhlig and making sure the wriggling pups didn't knock themselves, each other, or the table, to the floor.