The children were hiding in the underbrush and thought themselves as undetectable as if they were sheltering underneath Manannan’s magic mantle. Three pairs of ears listened as the sounds of hoofbeats and soft words came down the path towards them. Presently, a pair of horses came along. Sitting on top of one was a man and a wee woman, with exotic skin and ears like a fox’s. She has pointed ears almost like mine, thought Caoimhe. I wonder if her sisters make fun of her ears too? Her curious wolfhound nose was wiggling, taking in the tapestry of scents that wafted from the pair of travelers. The lady was nervous, as was evidenced by her smell and her demeanor. She looked over her shoulder and the great black dog flattened herself against the earth, wondering if the woman could see her through the tangle of brambles. Clarissant laid a hand on the hound’s head, as a reminder for her to keep still.

And keep still she did, but it didn’t matter, for, when the horses made to jump the log, the man dropped the lead, setting the bay at liberty. At the sound of her mistress’ voice, the animal trotted towards her, but caught scent of the trio in the underbrush and became spooked. In a fit of equine terror, she reared up and down, sharp hooves coming dangerously close to the children’s sanctuary. That was more that the hound in Caoimhe could stand and she rose to the defense of her friends, springing out of the undergrowth and barking loudly to scare the horse away. That only made matters worse, for the bay was not lacking in her own courage, and she made to kick the offending cur that dared to address her so rudely. With a yelp, the cu sidhe dodged out of the way.

“Caoimhe!” Ciaran jumped out, worried for the safety of his friend. And then there was Clarissant to look after, as well. Since he was the oldest, he had elected himself the champion and protector of the little maids. The hiss of a bowstring made him pause, and he pushed Clarissant to safety behind him as the terrified man let loose with an arrow. He tensed, waiting for it to bite into his chest, but instead it stuck in the ground at his feet. The archer’s aim was fouled by his lady; she was yelling at him to stop.

Ciaran gulped, and once he discovered he wasn’t dead, fear was replaced by fury. He added his voice to the commotion. “Coward!” he yelled. “You would use a hunting weapon against little girls and a dog?”

“Caoimhe, no…don’t chase the horse!” Clarissant ran to the side of the great black dog, who running ‘round in circles, barking at the horse and the man, who was now desperately trying to get the animals – and himself – under control. “You can’t hurt the horse. She belongs to the lady, who kept that man from shooting Ciaran with an arrow.”

Shoot Ciaran with an arrow! At those words, a deep rumbling growl like thunder came from the wolfhound’s chest. Where did that archer go? Forget the horse, now she was going to bite him, and hard!

“No, listen!” The golden haired girl clung to the big dog’s neck. “You have to calm down.”

Calm down? No chasing? No biting? These aren’t bad people? But that man with the bow and arrow! He smelled like the one hiding in the shadows near Baine’s tent that had scared her so badly! The hound’s drooping ears reflected her confusion.

“We’re sorry,” Clarissant continued, as Wintermist flounced over, with fire in her eyes. “Your horse scared us!”

The Sidhe woman gathered the children close and gave them a good talking to about playing in dangerous woods without the proper supervision. By the time she was finished, the trio was looking quite guilty.

“You three could have been killed!” Wintermist finished with a final disapproving look, quite aware that the dog wasn’t really a dog at all. But, to soften her words a little, she reached into her pouch and brought out a bag of candied borage flowers, which she gave to Clarissant. She whispered a quick blessing over their heads and collected her bewildered looking companion.

“Is she safe with him?” Ciaran wondered, watching them ride off.

“He’s not right in the head,” Clarissant agreed. “Did you see him cross his fingers and wave them at us like we were evil spirits? As if that could banish us!”

“And he smells funny.” That statement was from Caoimhe, who had turned from hound to girl and was now standing between her friends. “I’ve smelled his scent before. He was hiding in the shadows near the Lucky Charm Lady’s tent. There’s also something about him that smells like the man who wore the Lugh mask.”

“Lugh!” The mention of the great hero’s name reminded Clarissant of her original quest. “I’d better hurry if I want to catch up with him. I have to ask him how his arm got so big – “ The sun child stopped mid sentence, as a new sound echoed through the forest. It was the unmistakable sound of a scream.

“Maybe someone’s in trouble,” said Clarissant, with a determined look. “We should go and help them!”

“What if that archer did something to the lady who gave us candy?” Caoimhe squeaked.

“He probably just ran into a tree or something.” That was Ciaran’s opinion, although he was warily looking around, just in case.

“Let’s go!” said Clarissant, and off she dashed into the gloom, leaping nimbly over obstacles just like her pet fawn, Sabdh. Following close behind her were her loyal friends, Caoimhe having resumed the shape of a wolfhound.

They burst out into the clearing and saw a body sprawled face down in the loamy soil, long since past any aid the children might offer. The smell of blood fouled the sensitive nose of the hound. She hated the way dead things smelled! Standing beside the body, she let out a bloodcurdling howl…