Bloodline by Katy Moran

Author:Katy Moran [Moran, Katy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781406348903
Publisher: Walker Books Ltd
Published: 2013-02-21T05:00:00+00:00

Northern marches

ESSA was lying on a sheepskin with a blanket pulled over his legs, up to his waist. Fenrir lay sprawled at his feet, her head resting on her front paws. Anwen kneeled beside him, the blood-sodden linen bandage in a heap beside her. A bolt of clean linen lay folded next to it. He felt a jolt of anxiety, remembering the look in her eyes as he had stepped away from her in the courtyard at her father’s fortress. What was she going to do to him?

Her black plaits hung over her shoulders, their tips tickling the skin on his bare chest as she leaned forwards. His skin felt cold; she was dabbing a wet wad of cloth against his knife-cut. It did not pain him so much now. Maybe she was not going to hurt him after all: perhaps she was trying to help. Early evening sunlight slanted in through a doorway cut so low a grown man would have to stoop through it. He had slept in bothies like this with his father many times. Little green huts like the mounds left by moles, cut into the hillside for shepherds to shelter in when the night or a storm beat them home. He felt safe and at peace. He could do nothing.

She did not know he was awake. She twisted the lid off a clay jar, breaking the wax that sealed it. Then she tore a strip off the bundle of damp cloth and dipped it into the jar. It came away trailing a golden stream of honey, and the sweet scent mingled with the smell of lavender. Anwen was treating the wound with honey and lavender water: honey to keep out the rot, and lavender to make it heal faster. Lark was not there. He had known she wouldn’t be, not really.

But it did not stop him wanting her.

The honey dribbled on to the raw wound, warm and thick. Soon the whole area was coated. Then, with gentle fingers, Anwen covered it with a long strip of clean linen.

She looked up and he closed his eyes. He wasn’t ready to speak.

“Yes,” she said in British. “It’s best for you to sleep, cariad.”

Time slipped by, darkness fell and went away again, sunlight came and faded. He dreamed of his father, the great white mare running across the hillside, the firelit god-house at Caer Elfan. He dreamed of the ash tree in the courtyard of Hild’s village, Yggdrasil, the World Tree. He dreamed the serpent in Yggdrasil’s roots was coming for him, its great shining coils seething across the ground. He could not run. He could only wait.

Then, after a spell of darkness, he dreamed of his spirit journey again, soaring high above the earth, looking down on the hall below. I’m not a wolf, he told himself frantically. I’m not a real member of the Wolf Folk.

So what am I?

Morning came once more. Anwen sat beside him with a bowl of porridge and a cup of water.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.