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

27 - The Space Between a Blink and a Tear

Alt Clut, Strath Clota
(Modern-day Dumbarton, Scotland)

The days had all begun to blur together for Giric, especially now that nearly every day was cold and rainy. On this particular day when the broth and bread were passed out for their daily meal, Giric heard the young boy begin to cry. His mother tried to quiet him, but to no avail.

“I am still hungry, and this does nothing to help!” The boy cried.

“Hush, Cuilén! We are being given food, and that is more than we can hope for!”  The woman whispered harshly, the stress of their captivity having worn her patience thin.

“But I am still hungry, Máire! And I am cold, and I want to go home!” The boy sobbed as the woman pulled him into her arms, shushing and rocking him.

Giric looked over at them, his heart aching for the boy. He called her Máire, not Mother, he noted, and looked at his own meager portion of bread in his hand. Without any further hesitation, he scooted closer to them, at least, as close as the chains would allow.

“Hey,” he said quietly, not wanting to draw attention from anyone but the woman and boy, if at all possible. They both turned and looked at him, the boy still sniffling in the woman’s arms with his cheek pressed to her breast. Giric handed the bread out to the boy and nodded encouragingly. The woman’s eyes narrowed briefly as she looked at Giric, the boy still clinging to her as he sniffled and hiccupped. Giric sighed and lowered his hand. “I know you are hungry, lad. You can have my bread. Please.” He offered it by extending his hand once again.

The boy, Cuilén, he’d heard, turned and looked up at the woman. She looked down at him, then back up at Giric, her lips pressed into a thin line. “Go on, Cuilén.” She murmured, releasing him from her arms. He crawled off her lap and cautiously scooted as close to Giric as he could, though it wasn’t enough for him to reach.

Giric gave him a small smile. “I will have to give it a toss. You can catch it, yes?”

Nodding as he wiped the tears from his eyes, Cuilén positioned himself, and Giric gave the bread a gentle toss so it landed perfectly in the boy’s grasp. He quickly scooted back beside Máire, his face looking less pinched as he stared at the bread in his hands. Giric watched them in his periphery, trying to remain unobtrusive, and saw Cuilén break the bread in half to share with Máire. She forced a pinched smile as she shook her head at him and whispered something Giric could not make out.

Sharing his bread with the boy became a daily occurrence, and while he felt the increased hunger the first few days, it eventually stopped bothering him. In his mind, Giric thought giving the young boy a better chance of survival was more important than his own comfort. He had lived a life filled with adventure, and he could survive longer on less food than the child. Giric wanted to give the boy at least a slight chance of leading his own adventure-filled life - assuming they made it away from the slavers. Closing his eyes with his head resting against the wall of the shelter, Giric sighed as his stomach rumbled quietly. Great Father, please…help me get through this long enough for Faoladhean to reach me. Great Mother, please protect that young woman and boy. They both are still so young to be facing such hardships. If there is any way for them to be freed…

The sounds of the other captives shifting and shuffling as they began to find their sleeping positions interrupted his prayers. Giric stifled a groan as he pushed to his feet to stretch before lying down beside the other men. At least the bastards have given us a fire for some warmth. While the fire was not large, it did add some ambient heat to the shelter, as well as provide light, a fact which seemed to help Cuilén sleep a bit more soundly. Giric could only wonder at what horrors had befallen him in the dark prior to being brought to Alt Clut. None of his guesses would be pleasant.