Wolf Warrior (The Mórrigan's Wolf, Part 2) The Last Kingdom Fanfiction

12 - Shoulders Too Slim

The last full day of their trip home was soaked in rain, which left everyone to huddle into their tents when they made camp for the night. Finan started a small fire at the opening of the tent, sheltered by a small awning, to keep the chill at bay and warm their supper. Faoladhean sat on a fur beside the fire, grateful for the warmth and chance to dry out her clothing. She had removed her trousers prior to sitting so she could check on and rebandage the wound on her thigh, relieved that it bore no sign of infection so far.

"When we get home," she sighed tiredly, "I am going to spend an entire day in bed, resting my leg. And I want you and Aodhán there with me."

Finan chuckled as he sat down beside her and wrapped an arm around her middle. Faoladhean leaned her head on his shoulder, a content little hum sounding in her chest. "I think that can be arranged," he said softly.

They were both quiet for a bit, watching the flames and relaxing. "Do ye think Sihtric and Rypere are in Beamfleot yet?"

Finan shrugged slightly. "I would imagine they are close, but not there yet. Why, are you concerned for their safety?"

"No," she shook her head, "well, a bit, but more so I worry for the lady, ye ken?" Faoladhean fidgeted with the bandage on her leg for a moment before she continued. "The longer it takes Rypere to return with news, the longer she will suffer there."

Finan pulled her tighter into his side for a moment, then stroked her upper arm with his big, callused hand. "I know, m'chroí. But ya have to trust that they will be treating her decently, or you will drive yourself mad."

She nodded, staring at the fire. "You are certain Uhtred will plan a rescue, regardless of Alfred's wishes?" Turning her head, she gazed at Finan.

He turned his head to meet her gaze, seeing the pensive worry in the tension around her eyes. "It would be the most Uhtred thing he could do," Finan chuckled. "Uhtred will always do things his own way, regardless of Alfred's wishes and orders." He raised a hand to her cheek. "It may be a while, but ya have to trust that things will work out, one way or another," he said, then pressed a kiss to her forehead before he shifted to check on the stewpot heating over the fire.

Faoladhean nodded almost imperceptibly, her gaze dropping back to the fire. The flames danced under the canvas awning as rain pelted it from above, but they were dry and cozy within. "I just do noe understand why I was meant to be there, if noe to prevent her capture." Her voice was just barely a mumble, as if she were thinking aloud.

"Faoladhean, mo chroí, ya have to stop dwelling on it. How many times have we said that sometimes the will of God-or the gods-is not meant for us to know, hm?" He sat back beside her and took her hands in his. "Ya may never know the reason. Or maybe the reason was to save Thyra, and had nothing to do with Æthelflæd at all. In the end, does it matter? You were there as you were meant to be, and I think if you had failed in whatever purpose, ya would have known by now."

Faoladhean scoffed. "And how would I ken that? The Mórrigan would come back and reprimand me? I highly doubt it."

"Is it any less likely than Her showing up to say, 'well done'?"

Faoladhean looked at him, bemused. "I do noe expect Her to show up either way." She smiled slightly at the smirk on his face and rolled her eyes before gazing back into the fire for a few moments. With a quiet sigh, she drew her right knee up toward her chest and rested her chin on it. "I just wish I did noe feel this way, like I failed her." She held up a hand to stop Finan from interjecting. "I know what ye will say, that I failed no one, but...Lady Æthelflæd is a prisoner, and I could noe stop it from happening. It stings."