"He's yer one true mate," Laina exclaimed, grabbing both of Kirstin's hands in hers when she whirled to go. "Do'na spend another minute denyin' it or runnin' from it. There's no sense. He's t'one, Kirstin. Yer body knows it. I can see't jus' by lookin' at ye."
"
Ye can'na..." Kirstin swallowed, afraid she really could. She'd spent the night on a bed so soft it was like sleeping tucked under the wing of a goose. After the forest floor or the kitchen of the wulver den, it should have been like heaven, but she'd tossed and turned, fitful and restless. Laina was right. Her body had responded almost instantly to Donal, from the moment she'd met him in the forest, and it was only getting worse.
"Aye,'tis true." Laina's blue eyes danced.
"But he's..." Kirstin had struggled with it all night long, vacillating back and forth, unable to come to terms with it. "He's a human!"
"Aye." Laina agreed, shrugging. "But at least he's a Scot. Our own banrighinn is a shasennach. What difference does it make? Look how long Raife tried to fight against it, and fer what? She belongs t'him, and he t'her. Donal's yers, Kirstin. Oh, I'm so happy fer ye!"
Laina had thrown her arms around Kirstin and pulled her into a giant wulver hug that, if the sisters had been transformed, would have ended up in a tussle on the floor. And might have, still, if they hadn't been in the hallway of the MacFalon castle.
So Laina knew. And in spite of the arguments she kept making to herself, Kirstin knew, too. And now, Sibyl knew, or at least, suspected. The question was-did Donal know?
And if he did-if he felt the same as she-what in the name of all that was holy were they going to do about it?
"Ye've been down 'ere a'fore?" Kirstin asked as they walked together. Donal kept hold of her hand under the pretense of making sure she didn't stumble in the darkness. Even if he knew wulvers could see in the dark.
"Aye. We liked t'play ‘cloak'n'find' down 'ere," he told her. "If our da knew, he would've tanned our hides, but what boy could resist such a find?"
"There're certainly plenty'o'places t'hide," Kirstin agreed, smiling at the thought of them running through the tunnels. She stopped at one of the rooms and pushed open the door, letting go of his hand to enter. "I think this was t'healin' room."
"I always liked t'way this room smelled," Donal observed, sniffing, as he followed her inside. "I liked hidin' under this table."
Kirstin examined the abandoned mortar and pestles. "My grandmother's mother probably stood right 'ere, mixin' herbs."
The thought was both strange and comforting to her.
"Ye come from a long line of healers and midwives," he said admiringly. "Wise women."
"Aye." She ran a finger through the dust on the table, wondering how long it had been since one of her ancestors had stood here, preparing poultices or mixing remedies. "Longer than I e'en realized. S'much history 'ere-fer both our families."
"This place's been a part'o'me since I was wee," he told her, glancing around the room, his eyes filled with memory. "I used t'wonder what it was like, when t'wulvers lived 'ere, when it was full'o'life..."
"A wulver den's always busy." Kirstin smiled as they stepped out into the hallway. She took time to peer into more of the rooms, most of them small individual dens for wulver families. "These tunnels would've been full'o'wulvers, comin'n'goin'. I wonder where they kept their livestock?"
"Up top." Donal pointed at the high ceilings. "There's an old barn not too far from 'ere-I think they kept horses and sheep there. It's on MacFalon land, but I wonder if it might've been wulver land long before it belonged to me family..."
"Mayhaps." Kirstin smiled in the darkness when his hand found hers again, keeping her close when she wanted to wander ahead. She didn't mind.
"I'm still amazed that a horse doesn't spook when a wulver rider gets on," he remarked.
"Ye can break a horse to a wulver rider, jus' like ye can a human one," she scoffed. "They get used to it. I imagine horses don't much like human riders either, to begin wit'."
"Aye." Donal chuckled. "I've near broken me tailbone enough t'know that's t'truth."
"This would've been t'pack leader's quarters." Kirstin opened a door larger than the rest, revealing a room three times the size of the others. There was a large bed in the center of it, raised high, its base built of stone. It had clearly been built inside the room and was too large for anyone to move. Kirstin stopped, frowning as she looked at the mattress and coverlet still on the bed. "'Tis strange..."
"Hm?" Donal inquired, stepping closer.
"E'erythin's covered in dust... but this beddin' looks freshly laundered." In fact, the whole room looked cleaner than the rest of the den. There was an animal skin in front of the big fireplace that looked quite new.
"Oh... aye." Donal cleared his throat, rocking back on the heels of his boots when she looked at him. "I confess, we did'na jus' play down 'ere as children. When we were older, we found other uses fer this place..."
"Did ye bring lasses down 'ere, then?" She crossed her arms at the thought, staring at the bed.
She could picture a younger Donal, fumbling under the plaid of some kitchen wench he'd invited down here.
I want t'show ye somethin'...
I just bet he had!
"A few." He cleared his throat. "T'was away from t'pryin' eyes of m'father-and Moira. That woman misses nothin'. Eyes like a hawk. One time..."
But Kirstin was striding across the room, away from him.
"Where ye goin', lass?" Donal puzzled, seeing her moving along the back of the room near the big fireplace, her hands tracing over the stone.
"I'd wager ye did'na show yer lassies this secret..." Sure enough, her guess was correct. There was a section of the wall that, when pressed, revealed a narrow stone passage. She could hear the running water of the spring.
"What's this?" Donal asked, following Kirstin through the dark passage, toward the light at the end. The sun was higher now and the room glowed as if lit from the inside, the slant of light coming in from above, making the water of the spring look cool and inviting.
"There's a way in from the kitchen," Kirstin pointed to the other exit, where she and Sibyl had come in.
"That's how Alistair did it!" Donal's eyes widened, and then he chuckled, shaking his head as he notched his torch into the wall. "He'd disappear down the tunnel, and I'd go lookin' fer him-and he'd end up in the kitchen somehow."
"Now ye know how." She laughed.
"He always was a sneaky little buggar," Donal mused. "But how did ye know about it?"
"'Tis the same in our den," she explained, picking her way over the wet rocks in her boots. "The pack leader's room has access to the spring. Did ye not know it was 'ere?"
"Oh, aye," Donal agreed, catching her arm before she could slip. She smiled back at him gratefully. "I jus; did'na know about t'secret entrance. This is one of m'favorite places in the world. So calm and peaceful. Ye've a spring in yer den now?"
"Aye, there's always a spring in e'ery den," she told him as they reached flatter ground. The rock here was dry, warmed by the slant of the sun, and Kirstin drew up her plaid to sit down, pulling off her soft boots. "Water's life. 'Tis said t'very first wulver was born in a spring like this one, to his wulver mother, Ardis."
"Born in the water?" Donal marveled, sitting beside her on the rock as Kirstin scooted forward to slide her feet into the cool water.
"Aye," she told him as Donal tossed his boots aside, too, dangling his feet in next to hers. "I've seen it done."
"Doesn't the bairn drown?"
"Nuh, the bairn's a'ready livin' in water." She wrinkled her nose at the question, which seemed so silly to a midwife.
"How do they breathe?"
"No need 'til they're birthed."
He splashed her bare calves with his foot, making her laugh and nudge him with her hip. They sat very close, thigh to thigh, separated only by their plaids. Kirstin felt the press of his belt against her waist.
"Tell me more 'bout t'first wulver," he said, moving more comfortably against her, his arm sliding behind her. His palm was flat against the stone, but he still framed her with his body, making a little niche for her to settle into.
"Well, some say we're descendants of Lilith," she told him, wondering just how many lasses Donal had brought down here. Did he do this with all the women he fancied? She didn't like thinking about that, but she couldn't help it. "In yer bible, she was the first woman, but she was cast out of Eden, doomed to give birth to demons."