Children of the Moon 04 - Dragon's Moon

to Eirik’s only sister,Sabrine. Hell, Sabrine would probably kill Eirik before Crispin ever got the chance to put forth a challenge.
    That thought, at least, came close to bringing a smile to Eirik’s face.
    Fidaich shrugged, showing a bloodthirsty side not often seen among the ravens. “There are other clans in the Highlands.”
    “None that will guarantee our people’s safety by the word of their chief and pack leader.” He had both with the Sinclair.
    And those of the Éan joining the Balmoral and Donegal clans had the same.
    “With a dragon as our prince, we need no other leader’s assurances.” Fidaich drew himself up, trying to look older than his thirteen years.
    One day, the boy would be a great warrior, but there was still too much of the child who had nearly died at the hands of a sadistic wolf now. Fidaich had more reason than most not to trust the wolves, or care that one might have to die for Eirik to take place as a clan laird.
    Which did not mean Eirik shared his young cousin’s attitudes. He’d killed the wolves that threatened Fidaich and Canaul in a moment of horror that would forever burn in Eirik’s memories.
    “I cannot be everywhere and well you know this. If we do not have the loyalty of a clan, we only trade one hunting ground where raven are the prey for another.”
    “In the old days—”
    “What you know of the old days is from the stories told to entertain children. They were not so filled with glory and victory as the storytellers would have you believe,” Anya-Gra gently chided the boy.
    Fidaich pouted, a clear reminder he was yet to become a man. “Those stories are our history.”
    “Aye.” Grandmother’s eyes filled with sadness. “Part of it. The rest of our history is not shared so often.”
    But it was shared and Fidaich was well told on the unhappy lessons of the Chrechte’s past.
    “The old ways nearly decimated all the peoples of theChrechte.” Eirik laid a hand on his cousin’s shoulder. “Is that what you want?”
    Fidaich deflated like a pig’s bladder with a small leak. “No.”
    “Nor, I am sure, does he wish to see the loss of our people’s identity, either.” Anya-Gra spoke mildly, but the rebuke was there.
    How could she think Eirik, last true prince of their people, would allow such a thing? “We do not.”
    The Éan were an ancient race that by their very nature would always stand apart from the human clans and the Faol that currently lived among them. While Eirik would not be clan leader, he was still their people’s prince.
    His new duties removed him from the politics of running a clan but left him with responsibilities easily as far reaching, if not more so, than the ones he currently carried.
    When his grandmother made no word of reply, Eirik reminded her, “Both you and I are on the new Chrechte council.”
    Each of the Highland packs living among the clans had members on the council. A shifter from each group of the Éan joining the different clans had been appointed a spot on the council as well. Anya-Gra, as spiritual leader, held her position independently of which clan she chose to make her home.
    Right now that clan was the Donegal, so she could be close to Eirik’s sister, Sabrine. Not to mention Sabrine’s son, Anya-Gra’s only great-grandchild thus far.
    Both the Faol and the Éan were to be represented in the council and given the opportunity to contribute to interpreting and enforcing the ancient laws governing the Chrechte.
    Eirik could not be certain this would prevent the past from repeating itself, but he had faith. If he did not, he would not have agreed to the terms put forth for the Éan joining the clans.
    He was their prince and would protect his people with his life and when necessary with the dragon that lived inside him.
    Eirik reminded his grandmother, “It has been agreed that in matters of the Éan, I have final say…even for those among the other clans.”
    It was not a perfect solution, and relied on the integrity and cooperation of the Faol lairds, but Eirik would trust Barr, Talorc or Lachlan with his life. Trusting them with the lives of his people was that much harder, but he would do it.
    For the good of the Éan and their long-term survival.
    “If the council is so good, why are there no members from the Lowland clans?” Fidaich demanded.
    Anya-Gra chuckled. “Oh, child…we are Chrechte. Even the raven are too contentious to be fully united.”
    It was true. Some of the Éan had