Maeve wrapped her arms around her knees, resting her chin on top of them. The hour grew late and sleep weighted her eyelids. She let out a yawn. “I don’t pretend to comprehend the heart of a goddess, but I believe we all need to be valuable. Useful.”
Dröm caressed Flyg’s hair, staring at her lovingly. “Am I useful?”
It sounded like one of those questions you ask yourself, but Maeve had a perfect answer. “Dröm dear, you are the leader of your tribe, the guide they will turn to when they feel lost. You raised them from the ashes of war before, and you will do it again, with everyone’s help this time.” Maeve gave him a playful nudge. “You are useful.”
The huge, scarred, mountain half-breed leader smiled with authentic joy. “And you, my dear sister, will become the healer of this Forest, sharing your kindness and helping us all to overcome the darkness. And I know without a doubt, your mate will need all the strength you can give him when he becomes the leader of the Children of the River tribe.”
CHAPTER XXXXVIII
EPILOGUE
Regn
Five years later
It took him longer than usual to travel back to the village that spring. The weather had been lovely, the roads quiet, and he ran as fast as ever. The only thing to blame for his delay was the absurd amount of gifts the Warlocks and the tribe leaders forced him to accept.
Regn took the responsibility to tour the villages to ensure proper communication among the half-breed tribes. Mostly, to make sure the new mountain half-breed’s settlement had everything they needed. He also often visited because Maeve asked him to keep an eye on them.
Dröm still clung to the belief he had to do everything by himself. Unable to convince him, the other tribe leaders sent ‘diplomatic delegations’ to maintain strong relations and improve trade. These visitors usually ended up building huts and helping with winter preparations.
Eventually, Dröm figured it out, accepting the extra hands and sending back gifts to each village.
They had decided to move their home from the mountain range. After all, they initially settled in that inhospitable place to be isolated from the world and other tribes. Now, the bond between the half-breed villages was stronger than ever, including their long-forgotten mountain brothers.
Dröm and his people built their homes near the former Red Moon Valley village. It was a painful reminder of what they had done, but despite the other leaders insistence, the mountain half-breeds still felt the need to atone for their sins. So they turned the ruins into a flowery shrine in honor of those who lost their lives.
It would take many years of hard work, but Regn was confident they would thrive. He just saw them, shared meals and stories with them, and they were happy. As happy as they could be. Still, Regn could tell many of them were burdened with guilt, and he hoped to address this when he returned home.
So now, after a long, heavily weighted journey, he sat with the patriarch of the Children of the River, letting out a sigh after completing his report and handing the many gifts from the tribes. “Thank you, boy!” Kniv laughed. “And don’t worry, we’ll send you along with a cart next time. These people are far too generous.”
In the end, the villagers chose Kniv as the new patriarch after the old mother’s passing two years ago. All the talking about Hakken leading their tribe died out as soon as the war ended, and he returned to be his old laid back self.
Regn smiled. “I don’t mind. They seem to enjoy stuffing things in my pockets and way over my head.”
After pouring two cups of freshly brewed tea, Kniv settled on the ground. “All is well, then?”
“As well as you can expect. They went through a peaceful winter, and Dröm hopes to finish building before summer. The village is looking well, and there are so many young children, you can hardly speak without screaming over their voices.”
“Sounds like a lovely place to be.” Kniv blew away the steam from his warm cup. Ever since their visit to the Warlocks, he had grown fond of their tea. Finn often sent bulky packages for him, full of dried leaves.
Regn chortled, fighting the urge to lie on the ground to sleep. “You should join me next time. I’ll throw you to the children, and we might have some peace.” He was less than thrilled with the memories of loud infants, hoping to have a few quiet months before visiting again.
“How is Dröm?” Kniv shared his concern for Dröm’s peace of mind. Their last meeting left him troubled, and he had asked Regn to be especially vigilant about him.
“Flyg and his children are a blessing for his heart, but even I can see there is still a lot of pain in him. And in many of his people.”
Kniv raised a curious brow. “Should she pay them a visit?”
“I’ll ask.” Regn knew exactly who he meant.
Smiling, Kniv waved a hand at him. “Go now. I can tell you are eager to meet them, and I won’t delay you. Thank you for everything, boy.”
Regn left the hut, stretching under the afternoon sun and taking a deep, refreshing breath. The coolness of winter still clung in the air, but the sunny day’s warmth gave the flowers a push, making them bloom earlier.
Before heading to his destination, he made a quick detour to deliver a present Flyg sent to Mynte. Both women engaged in some weird competition to give each other the most fragrant oil. Regn hoped this would settle the score because he hated smelling like roses all the time.
Carrying a bundle of knick-knacks, he took a familiar path heading away from the village. It wasn’t long until he reached his destination—a peaceful meadow near a songful creek. A lone cabin stood in the distance, surrounded by swaying trees and neatly arranged crops of
