Children of the Moon 04 - Dragon's Moon

and more information led her to admit to it now though.
    “Where was the cavern?” He asked it every time, as if by doing so would make her know.
    It never did. Though she tried to tell him all she could remember that might help. “I felt as if I was deep in the earth.”
    “You felt?” he asked with doubt that bothered her, though she never said so.
    “Yes.”
    “Could you see the entrance to the cavern?”
    “No, I felt as if it was behind me, but I could not turn away from the Faolchú Chridhe in my dream.”
    “So no proof you were deep in the earth?”
    “No,” she had to admit.
    “’Tis more likely in the hills. Birds would not bury our stone deep in the earth. ’Tis not in their nature.”
    Galen’s belief the Éan had stolen the Faolchú Chridhe had been birthed two winters past, after Da’s death and her brother started spending more time with Wirp. Their da had never had a good word to say about the other Chrechte the old stories claimed had once existed, either.
    But Wirp was worse; he’d acted as if the Faol were better than everyone and male wolves the most superior of all. The old man had made her that uncomfortable. No one was happier than Ciara that Wirp had fallen afoul of their new laird, Barr. Though she was careful not to let her brother know it.
    “It felt like deep in the earth,” she repeated stubbornly.
    “I told you under the ground is not the Éan’s playground.”
    “And if it was not the bird shifters that stole the wolves’ stone?”
    “It was.”
    “You are so certain, but all you have are old men’s stories to prove it.”
    “And your dreams.”
    “My dreams only say the Faolchú Chridhe exists, not that anyone stole it from us. Besides, they could be no more than night fancies.”
    “Nay. They are prophecy and we must pay heed.”
    Then why not heed that the cavern was underground? She did not ask because she did not want to argue with her brother. He might decide not to go looking for the stone. She saw little enough of him as it was now; she would not give up this day.
    G alen did want to search for the stone, but he insisted on taking another warrior with them, saying three sets of wolf senses were better than two.
    Ciara did not agree. She did not like this warrior any better than she had liked Wirp. Worse, she worried her brother would give her to Luag in marriage.
    Her menses had started early. Though she was but twelve summers. He would wait at least two more before pressing her to wed, but then she was done for. The fear that thought caused was fully realized, making her sick to her stomach, even as she tried to hide her revulsion.
    It would do no good. Luag was with them now and would not be going anywhere until they exhausted themselves searching or by some miracle found the Faolchú Chridhe this day.
    They had been searching for hours and were deep in the forest when Luag lifted his head and sniffed the air. “I smell raven.”
    Ciara could not understand the disgust so evident in his voice. She knew their clan’s healer was both raven and wolf, though Ciara had never told anyone. She rarely revealed what her dreams told her, except to her brother. And she never told him dreams that had anything to do with the Éan.
    “Let’s go hunting,” Luag said with a smile that was more snarl than anything.
    Galen shook his head. “We have things of more import to do here.”
    “It’s all part of the same goal,” Luag argued.
    “I’ll not hunt when we have Ciara with us.”
    Was her brother saying he would hunt the raven if she were not with him? Ciara could not let herself believe his unreasoning prejudices went that deep. And how did they plan to hunt a bird? Would they make wings out of tree branches and fly then? They hadn’t brought bows with them and their wolf forms would hardly be helpful.
    She shook her head. Sometimes warriors made no senseto her. Everyone knew that a wolf’s prey was grounded animals, not birds of the air.
    “Is she so weak then?” Luag asked with disdain.
    Normally Ciara would have balked at being called weak, but she welcomed any opportunity to be seen as deficient in this wolf’s eyes.
    “My sister is not weak, but she is too young.”
    “She’s seen twelve summers.”
    “A girl still.”
    “On the cusp of womanhood.”
    For a terrifying moment, Ciara thought they were perhaps arguing about more than whether the wolves should hunt with her present. And the argument nauseated her. She’d heard rumors that