Using a bowl, she scooped some water into the provided bronze pot. She’d use that to store the water and her iron one to cook with.
Aileran began to fuss, and she took some time to feed the child. At first, he didn’t want to suck, but after some coaxing, he took his fill. Her milk didn’t come as freely as it used to and might be drying up. She’d have to prepare something soft for the wee lad.
What would become of her farm and livestock? Clíodhna shuddered to think what an angry mob might do to her home, her cows, pigs, and chickens. Anger flowed through her veins. Rage at the short-sighted bigotry of the Abbot warred with disgust at the easily led minds of men. Fury at the man’s sheer gall to steal her family made her blood boil. How dare he?
Outside, thunder crashed at the entrance to their cave, making them all jump. Clíodhna did her best to damp her ire, lest those she loved suffered for her unbridled wrath.
Several hours later, the storm petered out to a mere drizzle. Clíodhna dared to peer out of the cave entrance to assess the success of her hiding place. Mists still obscured the hilltop with velvet gray. Nothing moved but the droning drip of water on leaves. The earthy scent of rain on soil mingled with the musty odor of the cave.
Etromma woke from her nap. In a sleepy voice, she asked, “Ma? Are we safe here? I’m hungry.”
With a chuckle for her daughter’s priorities, Clíodhna handed her a bit of bread. “So far, yes. I believe Adhna’s magic obscures the path to this place. I hadn’t been able to find it on my own and I doubt the monks will have any better success.”
Etromma’s eyes grew wide. “Can we leave? Or are we prisoners?”
Clíodhna opened her mouth, but closed it again, realizing she wasn’t certain of either answer. Adhna had never been cruel or controlling. He’d been acting in his role as mentor, friend, and sometimes lover. Still, he remained Fae, and such folk were notoriously changeable. She swallowed and gazed into the mist. “That remains to be seen, my love.”
Etromma nibbled on her bread in silence as the water dripped in a steady tattoo. Aileran shifted in Clíodhna’s arm, and she moved him to her other breast.
Donn roused and, once awake, set to organizing the space. He created sleeping areas for each of them and, with Clíodhna’s direction, arranged the food supplies and cooking implements.
He exclaimed with triumph when he found the flint at the bottom of his sack. Donn held it up with a smile, but his joy faded as he glanced outside at the sodden weather. “We won’t find any dry wood for a fire in this.”
Clíodhna held up her hand. “No fire. Not until we know we’re safe from discovery here.”
He furrowed his brow. “How will we know?”
“When Adhna returns, he can tell us.”
Etromma turned to her. “Who is he, Ma? We met him at Bealtaine, and I’ve seen him once or twice in the village. I know he cared for you, but after you recovered, he disappeared again.”
Taking a deep breath to gather her thoughts, Clíodhna let it out before answering. “He’s been a friend and a teacher for a few moons, Etromma. I trust him. For the most part.”
Her daughter raised her eyebrows at the last phrase.
With a half-smile, Clíodhna answered the unspoken query. “He is Fae, and therefore not safe to trust completely. But he has protected us and taught me. I believe he has our survival and best interests at heart.”
When she mentioned him being Fae, both children frowned, but said nothing. In the silence, a distant rumble of retreating thunder rolled across the hill, a gentle growl in the darkening mist.
Aileran fussed, spilling milk down her breast. Clíodhna mopped it up and lifted him to her shoulder, patting his back with gentle thumps. He rewarded her with a deep burp and a dribble of spit.
“Here, Ma. I can take the baby for a while. Go relax while Donn finishes finding places for everything.”
With weary steps, Clíodhna trudged to one of the blanket piles. She curled inside one, the itchy wool scratching her skin. The still-steady beat of dripping water lulled her to sleep more quickly than she imagined and she descended into the darkness of sweet oblivion.
It seemed but a moment until the clattering of hooves on stone woke her. However, by the gloom of night, at least half the day had passed. Dim shapes moved in the shadows, but the clip-clop rang clear, echoing through the cave.
“Clíodhna? It’s me, Adhna. I’ve brought you a friend.”
She sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, trying to focus on the white mass moving toward her. “Adhna?”
“She’s a bonny cow. She’ll give you milk for cheese every day. I tried to find a chicken, but the monks have your home well-guarded. I borrowed this young lass from an acquaintance of mine. She asks no payment for the loan, though a bit of cheese might not go amiss now and then.”
Clíodhna’s throat clogged with dryness. A gift from someone who liked cheese. He could only mean another Fae. She disliked owing too many favors to the Fair Folk.
The cow stepped into the beam of moonlight near the cave’s entrance. The white of her hide stood out, but her ears looked dark. Clíodhna stood, brushing off her léine, and patted the cow’s large head. The animal mooed, accepting the caress.
“Thank you, Adhna. And also for the supplies you left here.”
He blinked. “Supplies? I left no supplies.”
She turned to glance
