Page 140 of First Light

“We smell of wild things, my treasure.” Her mother whispered something in Welsh that Carys didn’t understand.

Her parents only spoke Welsh when they didn’t want her to understand something. Carys knew a few words, but not like her mother. Welsh was the language her mother dreamed in. At least that’s what Tegan said.

“Come.” Her mother held out her hand. “Come say hello.”

Carys walked over and saw a flock of finches flitting from branch to branch, moving closer to the deer on the edge of the forest. Within minutes they had landed on branches in the cedar tree above them, darting up and down and flying in circles around Tegan’s head.

“Pretty little things,” Tegan murmured. “Do you see them, Carys?”

“Yes.”

More birds gathered around the edge of the forest, a small army of songbirds and snappy blue jays hopping and fluttering along the border of the trees, flashing their bright feathers as they swarmed Tegan, Carys, and the three deer.

“We should get them some corn,” Carys said. “At school, the teacher said deer like corn.”

“No, they don’t need that.” Tegan stroked her hand down the doe’s neck. “She needs wild food to feed her babies. Leaves and soft twigs. Mushrooms and ferns.”

“And your flowers from the garden?”

Tegan’s laugh tinkled in the sunlight. “Yes, and definitely those too.”

The doe lowered her head and nudged her fawns closer.

Carys stayed very still. “She’s showing you her babies.”

“I am honored, mother.” Tegan whispered to the deer again. “She will bless you with a safe summer, sister. I know it.”

“Who?” Carys wanted to get closer, but she heard her father’s cautious voice in her mind, warning her that wild animals were wild, not pets. “Who will bless the deer?”

“The forest,” Tegan said. “Mother Nature. The spirits of this place.”

“Like ghosts?”

Tegan smiled. “No, not at all like ghosts.” She patted the doe’s cheeks once more before she stepped back and waved her arms for the deer to go. “Ghosts are of the underworld. The dead world. And we are very much alive, aren’t we?”

Carys lifted her arms as her mother swooped down and picked her up, swinging her around in the middle of the meadow while the birds fluttered and chirped around them.

“My daughter.” Tegan kissed her cheeks as she set her feet back on the ground. “My gift. My perfect, perfect gift.”

Carys woke,and dim light was peeking through the shuttered windows.

“You slept hard.” Duncan stood near the fire where he was feeding more wood into the flames. “Were you warm enough?”

There were heavy wool blankets piled on top of her, more blankets than she remembered when she went to sleep.

“Yeah.” She sat up. “Sorry I took your bed.”

“It’s fine. I slept by the fire.” He stood and brushed the ash from his hands. “The storm was ugly last night, and we need to take the journal to the forge this morning so Angus can translate it. No use going to the castle just to walk back in all that mud.” He pointed to the table. “Apples and cheese. No bread, I’m sorry to say, though I could run into town and grab some if you want.”

She rubbed her eyes and yawned. “From a baker who’s a software engineer in Scotland or something?”

Duncan smiled, muffling a yawn of his own. “No, she’s a midwife for NHS.”

“Buns in the oven,” Carys said. “One way or another.”

Duncan chuckled a little. “I’m going to remember that.”

Carys slid out of the bed and walked to the table, carrying the journal with her. “I had a dream about my mother. It was so vivid.”