Ylfing Lore

Despite the way their lives were forever changed, life went on, as it always did. Niði blamed Eygló for her choice, but the abductions ceased—even if their world did not quite return to normal, as Quany had warned. As they tried to move forward in their lives, Eygló found it best not to visit the Chaorrain Pack. She had duties as a mother and as chieftain to attend to. Glámr, their spared pup, was growing up strong, with a litter from Ash now to play with. And, finally, after a long search, Ylfing had a new herbalist in training: Ljósunn, diligent and intelligent, and as beautiful inside as out. To Rjúpa's dismay, Hjörtr had become unexpectedly smitten with the new addition.

As winter approached again, Eygló journeyed south in search of herbs to ensure good stocks before snow buried them. She found herself near the foothills without fully realizing as she followed her nose. The air was crisp and clear, but not as cold as her home. The breeze carried the unexpected sound of yips and growls and the chieftain's ears pricked.

She rounded a cluster of trees to a surprise: two strong pups playing and tumbling, uncoordinated on their stumpy legs. They were clearly well cared for with round bellies and clean fur. But most surprising of all was who was with them: Maeve.

Grooming her paw, the she-wolf did not notice Eygló, but one of the pups did. It looked at her with wide-eyes and squeaked, "Mama!"

She gasped and leaped to her paws in delight, tail wagging as her lips peeled back to reveal a toothy grin. Her coat was shiny and her eyes bright. "Eygló! It's good to see you!"

"It's good to see you doing well."

Maeve touched noses with the chieftain briefly, one of the pups stepping up underpaw to fix Eygló with a distrustful glare. "Who are you?" she demanded, her little tail bushed and sticking straight up, chest puffed out to look bigger.

Eygló raised a brow, more amused than offended. "Is that any way to speak to a strange wolf?"

The pup took a few steps back, flattening her ears.

"Oonagh!" Maeve chastised. "Where are your manners? That's no way to greet an elder!"

She looked at her sheepishly, as if embarrassed on the pup's behalf.

"Sorry," Oonagh mumbled, looking down at her paws.

Eygló shook her head. "I like the fire, she'll just need to be careful until she's big enough to back it up."

Maeve licked Oonagh's ear gently, not truly cross with the pup, and she looked up at her. "This is Eygló. Remember, from the story?"

"It's nice to meet you," she told her, but the pup ignored her.

"Wait, that story was real?" Oonagh's eyes grew big as she looked at Maeve, nearly taking up her entire face. Maeve rolled her eyes and turned to the other pup, quiet as a mouse sitting between her front paws.

"Go on, say hello, Malachy," she encouraged him. He wagged his tail hesitantly and looked at Eygló with big doe eyes.

The pup only said, "Hello," before falling quiet again. Maeve leaned down and nuzzled him affectionately.

"These are… yours?" Eygló pressed hesitantly, but Maeve wagged her tail, radiating happiness.

"They are. My dear ones."

She leaned down again to nuzzle them, and they squirmed under her attention. She shooed them away with a murmured word to go play, and after hesitating a moment they went back to their tumbling.

"Strong, are they not? They remind me of him."

Maeve was practically bursting with pride, and while it warmed Eygló's heart, she looked at the she-wolf with probing eyes. There was a sadness there to, as she had expected. As much as she enjoyed her pups, they were a reminder of her lost mate, that he could not be there to enjoy them with her.

"But you're happy?"

A thoughtful look crossed her face and she was silent as she formulated an answer.

"I am proud of my pups and the strength they carry of Lowen. I smile as I watch them and teach them what they need to know. If that is happiness, then yes, I am happy."

She turned her attention back to the pups, seeming to be at peace as she watched them. Eygló nodded knowingly even though the she-wolf wasn't looking, sitting by her side as she too watched the pups play. They sat in silence for a peaceful moment before the chieftain told her, "I'm glad you have them, and that they have each other."

"How is yours?" Maeve asked her, only looking to her briefly before casting her eyes back to her pups vigilantly.

"He's getting so big so fast. It's like he's the perfect blend of his father and I, and his forebears. He's big and strong but he's fast like his father. Everyone expects him to be a brute, the next bear slayer, but he's smart too and so kind. He reminds me a lot of Njóla. She would have adored him."

As her emotions turned somber they lapsed back into silence. This time Maeve broke it.

"Thank you… for what you did. If you hadn't… I would have. At the time, I couldn't imagine doing this without him. But now I can't imagine life without them."

The she-wolves shared a knowing look, but before Eygló could say anything another voice spoke out, "You seem to have a talent for finding our friend, Maeve."

She recognized Sirona's voice before she turned to see her spit out a bundle of herbs and brace for the onslaught of the two pups as they raced toward her.

"Miss Sirona, can I see?"

"What herbs did you find? Move out of the way, you're blocking me!"

They crowded around the herbs, sniffing wildly.

"Now now, don't ruin them with your stomping!" Sirona scolded. "Take them over there and sort them. I'll be there in a minute to check and see how you do."

They snatched up the herbs and hurried away, leaving Sirona smiling after them with a bemused look.

"It's good to see you, Sirona," Eygló told her, and the herbalist's expression seemed to genuinely return the sentiment.

"I'm glad you're well, Eygló." Sirona stretched gracefully and shook out her pelt. "Our pack has been thriving, despite everything. Although I fear our luck may run out sooner or later."

"The winter?" Eygló nodded knowingly, but looked confused as Maeve sighed.

"Don't be so worried, Sirona! You'll figure it out. Maybe Eygló has an idea."

"What's going on?"

Sirona flashed a look over at the pups to ensure they weren't listening, but still spoke quietly. "As you know, we were able to stop Bronagh. For a time, everything seemed to be fine—but then wolves began to report increasing amounts of disturbances. The lights began to float and dance again, and the whispers started twisting their way into hearts and minds. Luckily, we have not lost anyone else... but I suspect that's due in part to our vigilance.

We have avoided hunting at night, and travel to open spaces to look for prey. This way nothing can hide in the shadows and pull wolves in. I've also been making the hunters roll in mountain lion dung."

Eygló pulled a face, as did Maeve, and Sirona laughed. "It's effective for distracting the senses. It won't work forever, though, and we can't keep hunting as we are. It's not sustainable. I've been trying to come up with a mixture of herbs that is more effective that we can use, but so far I haven't been successful."

She looked back to the pups, who seemed to have grown bored with the herbs and returned to tussling.

"Let's go wrangle those two before they destroy it all, Maeve. Come see us later, Eygló. Maybe we can put our heads together and find a mixture that works."

With the pups in tow, they set off back to their pack, leaving more questions than answers. If Bronagh was gone, what would want to continue abducting wolves? And if they couldn't hunt safely, how could they survive the winter?

As Eygló traveled back to the Uplönds there was an ominous feeling drifting in the corners of her mind like a dark fog, weighing on her heart and making her skin prickle. She tried to tell herself it was just nerves, the result of stress, but she couldn't shake the feeling that something was waiting, lurking. But once she reached the clearing where the Chaorainn Pack made their home they welcomed her cheerfully, like all was well. Eygló responded politely but made her way directly to Sirona's den, where she found the herbalist chewing a bundle into a paste. The pungent smell hit the chieftain before she reached the den, and Sirona's eyes streamed as she choked and gagged.

When she noticed Eygló she spit the bundle into a large leaf, coughing and wiping her face with a paw. "Oh, Eygló! You're here…"

"Are you all right?" The chieftain's eyebrows raised in concern, but Sirona nodded.

"I'll be all right... it just takes me a moment. You'd think this mixture would work, wouldn't you? But I keep testing it, and it's smelly for a bit... but not enough to protect our hunters for any period of time." She pawed at the ground irritably, but her visitor seemed to be quickly forgotten as she started going through her pile of herbs. "Maybe I just can't find the right herbs..."

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Eygló offered, feeling pity for the frustrated herbalist. How long had she been working at this, facing failure after failure that put her pack at risk?

Sirona shot her a grateful smile. "You are a kind wolf, Eygló. I did have an idea, if you're up for it…?"

She looked hopeful, and when Eygló nodded she launched eagerly into her plan. "I've tried every combination of herbs I can think of that I can get around here. But there are lands distant from here that I can't help but wonder if maybe they have herbs there that might be what I'm looking for. Would you be willing to bring me all that you can find?"

"Far to the south there grows powerful herbs you cannot find in my home or yours. Our herbalist is from there, and I try to keep a supply of them for her. I can bring some here, she'll know better than I which ones may be of value."

Sirona bumped her head against Eygló's shoulder gratefully before returning to her herbs. "Thank you. I think we can do this, Eygló."

The chieftain watched her for a moment, admiring her fierce determination. Like Maeve, she seemed different now. Confident, self-assured. She stood tall and had a more powerful presence than before. Eygló nodded, more to herself than to Sirona, but she agreed. So long as they rose rather than bowed to the challenges they faced, they could do anything.

The herbalist's excitement was palpable when Eygló returned with the herbs, immediately beginning to form mixtures. Certainly no herbalist, the chieftain stayed back and let Sirona work, trying her best to breathe through the rancid stench. "What in hell's name is that smell?"

A shadow stopped in the entrance to the den and Eygló turned to see Quany covering his nose with his paw.

"Quany," she nodded her head in greeting and the old wolf snorted indignantly.

"I should have known you were involved. Sirona, haven't you made enough of those awful concoctions yet?"

But Sirona paid him no mind, her tail wagging as she inspected the paste.

"I think this is it! Every other mixture I tried before Eygló brought me these herbs has failed. This should be able to stay on fur for extended periods of time without needing to be reapplied or fading. Try it!"

She scooped up the leaf and tossed it their way, but Eygló quickly ducked and Quany recoiled with a snarl, glaring at the she-wolf.

"You try it! I won't be able to get that out of my fur for weeks. No pup is going to want to help me, either."

Sirona's eyes danced mischievously as she turned away from the pouting elder to look at Eygló.

"We need to test it to be sure. I'll have our hunters try it tonight. Would you take some back with you too, Eygló? It would be best to test it as much as possible to be sure it works."

The chieftain scrunched her nose. "We're doing fine, but if I must…"

Sirona laughed at her obvious displeasure. "I promise it will be worth it, Eygló. The smellier the better, so if it's still holding such a pungent odor by the time you get back, that's a great sign. Get some rest, too."

She pressed her nose to her cheek, clearly grateful. Eygló sighed at the prospect of carrying the stinking mass all the way home, but was briefly distracted by Quany, who seemed to be holding his paw gingerly. She worried momentarily about the old wolf's condition, but ducked out of the den without a word, knowing the crotchety elder was unlikely to accept help if it meant admitting weakness in front of her.

Eygló returned to the Chaorrain Pack early the next morning. Sirona was already working furiously in her den, which was in complete disarray.

"Did you sleep at all?" She asked in amusement and the herbalist turned to her, tail wagging.

"It worked! Oh Eygló, it worked! The hunters reported that the patch of fur they applied the paste to kept its fragrance and they didn't have any sightings of lights, or hear any whispers. They were too busy focusing on the prey-scent over the smell of the herbs. How did yours fare?"

"Just as well," she nodded and Sirona's excitement grew. The hunters of Ylfing had not been keen to use the paste, but the Einherjar eventually volunteered, or acquiesced.

"That's wonderful news! After our hunters came back, I started making more, but we don't have much left. We'll need to get more herbs to make more of it."

"We have some more, but… I don't think it will be enough. Winter is practically upon us. We only planned for supplies to see us through regular use, but to sustain all our hunts…"

Sirona only seemed to be half listening, looking over the den, lost in thought.

"We can't just keep this to ourselves, Eygló. The other packs nearby have not been as lucky as we have... the stories I've heard..." She fell silent for a moment, then shook herself and looked Eygló in the eyes. "We have to help them too."

"What did you have in mind?"

"I was thinking we could—"

Before she could finish, a voice called out, "Sirona! Sirona, are you in here?"

A young wolf burst in, out of breath and eyes bright. Sleek, dark fur rippled over strong muscles, clearly a hunter, the scent of prey mingling with the herbal paste. Sirona jerked back in surprise, then grinned, before growing suddenly worried.

"Lorcan! What are you doing here? Did something go wrong this time?"

"Not at all!" The exuberant wolf shook his head before turning to Eygló with a smirk. "And who might you be?"

Eygló raised a brow, bemused, half inclined to quip about just how many bear pelt wearing northerners visit the Chaorrain Pack, but she responded politely instead. "I'm Eygló."

Sirona rolled her eyes. "Lorcan, you know very well who this is. Stop teasing poor Eygló."

The young wolf's tongue lolled and he stretched languidly, unbothered by the telling off, more focused on showing off his muscles. Eygló tried to hide her incredulousness as he pointedly sat next to her, sneaking looks out of the corner of his eye, and was able to pass it off as surprise when he addressed Sirona, "All right, all right. You're no fun, Ma."

"What do you need, Lorcan? We're right in the middle of something."

"That gross, smelly paste; got any more? We need to go back out."

"We don't have anymore," Eygló told him and he looked wide-eyed at Sirona.

"Really? We used it all already?"

"Unfortunately, yes," she sighed. "We didn't have much to begin with. We have to gather more herbs, and we have to help the surrounding packs. We can't just leave them to fend for themselves when we have this paste at our disposal."

Lorcan jumped excitedly to his feet. "I can go! I never get to go anywhere anymore when I'm not hunting. Not since Lowen—" He stopped himself abruptly and looked down at his paws.

Eygló hesitated, looking between the two, unsure at first if he stopped out of curtesy to Sirona's loss or his own, but the herbalist stepped forward and nuzzled him gently.

"I know. We'll find your brother one day," she reassured before turning to the chieftain. "Are you ready, Eygló? I'm sorry to ask so much of you."

"It's fine," she shook her head. "We're all in this together. This affects us all."

"Good. Now you just have to decide what you want to do, Eygló. It's your choice. You can either come with me and gather more herbs, or you can go with Lorcan and seek out wolves from the surrounding packs and take them the news of the mixture. Which will it be?"

"If you don't mind, I'd like to stay a bit closer to home. We can alert the neighboring packs." She looked to Lorcan and the young hunter woofed in pleasure, stepping forward to touch noses. When Eygló reared back in shock he quickly realized his mistake, looking away bashfully.

"Good! Between us, we'll find everyone we can. We'll make ah... we'll make a good team, I think."

Sirona snickered as he fumbled over his words. "Very good then, Eygló," she chimed in. "I'll see what I can find on my own. Hopefully it won't be too difficult to find what I need."

Lorcan continued to avoid the chieftain's gaze as he scurried out of the den ahead of her, leaving Eygló questioning if she would have been better off going with Sirona. She probably could have used the help, and this young wolf's strangely misplaced affections were a bittersweet reminder of how Niði behaved when they were younger, only serving to remind her of how much they all had lost and wondering how much more they would still lose before this was done.

Eygló indeed came to regret her decision after the small herb pile Sirona returned with, but the herbalist insisted they would make do. Still, the chieftain took note to speak with her own herbalists to see what they could spare if it came to it. She and Lorcan had been successful at least as the wolves they told continued to spread the news of the recipe for the paste. Eygló was eager to return to her pack, finally feeling like things were at ease, even with winter finally upon them. She felt as though things may finally be back to normal, or at least that they had adjusted to their new normal. They had overcome the challenge, they had won.

Eygló was patrolling below the tree line when she felt herself being pulled to an unsettling sight: a cave, with inky black darkness pouring out of it. Her mind flashed back to Bronagh, to her pups. She could not make herself go closer, and yet she couldn't turn away. Suddenly she realized it was the same cave Bronagh was sealed in. It felt menacing and two sets of eyes peered out from the darkness, whispers hissing threatening words.

"Oathbreaker.."

"You broke An Aonta. You will pay."

Eygló finally pulled away and ran as fast as possible, her paws carrying her to the Chaorrain Pack before her mind had made the decision. Her pelt prickled and she tried to push down her fear. Could it all be happening again?

Eygló burst once again into the peaceful setting of the clearing, but this time her unsettling feeling was more than just paranoia. Lorcan, who had been sunning himself, startled at her intrusion.

"Eygló? What on earth?"

But the chieftain didn't respond, pushing past him in a hurry to the herbalist's den, but she could hear his paw steps drumming after her. Sirona was tending to Quany's paw and they both jumped at her sudden entrance.

"Eygló! What is it? Is everything okay?" The herbalist looked at her with wide eyes.

"The cave is open," she panted. "Where Bronagh was sealed, the portal has reopened…"

Sirona stared in stunned silence and Quany's breath released in a hiss. His lips peeled back in the beginning of a snarl. "And here I was thinking I would get some peace today. Clearly not. Tell me exactly what happened, Eygló, and don't leave anything out."

The chieftain sat, shaking her head to clear it, to focus. "I felt… pulled there, like before. There were voices. But… it was not Bronagh. They were cruel. Two of them. Calling me… an oathbreaker. That I would pay for breaking An… An Aonta?"

Quany's brow furrowed and he shook his head. "Two, you say? That doesn't make sense. It can't be Bronagh again. Her spirit was at peace when she left. That phrase, too, An Aonta..."

"What does An Aonta mean?" Lorcan, who had been sitting silently by the entrance, finally piped up. "It's nothing like I've ever heard."

Quany snorted in amusement. "That's because you're a pup, Lorcan. In fact, I don't think Sirona is even old enough to recognize it."

Sirona shook her head, clearly confused as well.

"But you have, haven't you?" Eygló looked the elder in the eye, experiencing a growing feeling of unease, and he glared back.

"Are you calling me old?" He snapped, then sighed. "Vaguely. We don't use the old language anymore, but some words and phrases still pop up here and there in stories. An Aonta roughly translates to 'The Pact.' The only time I've ever heard it used is in stories relating to the Faelcu."

Sirona looked thoughtful. "Considering our experience with Bronagh, these old tales having truth to them doesn't seem all that far fetched. What exactly is it about?"

The elder hesitated, clearly uneasy.

"What's wrong?" Eygló pressed.

"Nothing is necessarily wrong," he replied. "It's just not exactly a bedtime story."

"Well that's good, because you suck at those," Lorcan huffed, and Sirona gasped.

"Lorcan! Watch your tongue!" She looked horrified, but oddly, Quany actually laughed.

"Oh, he's not wrong. He's also just mad that he didn't sleep for a week when I told him a particular favorite of mine when he was a pup," the elder sneered. Lorcan glared at him but stayed silent. "All of that aside, let me see if I can remember it properly. Give me a moment."

Quany settled himself in as he prepared to tell the tale, as if inviting them to do the same. Lorcan looked to Eygló hopefully, but she maintained her focus on the elder, and he slinked over instead to sit by Sirona, his expression pointedly neutral.

"So from what I remember, the Faelcu used to share this world with us. Over time, a rift formed between the mortal wolves and the Faelcu, which led to increasingly violent disagreements. Eventually, the mortal wolves drove them so far to the brink that they retreated to a place they could call their own: it's what we now know as the Faelcu Realm.

For a time they left each other alone, but it wasn't long before the curiosity of younger generations that knew nothing of the past strife began to cause trouble again."

"Fighting again?" Eygló asked, but he shook his head.

"Not exactly. At heart, the Faelcu were playful and loved playing tricks on one another and manipulating the world around them. The mortal wolves only knew of them in stories, and the Faelcu didn't know the violence the mortal wolves had caused. This presented an opportunity: the Faelcu enjoyed toying with the mortals who knew nothing of them, and they didn't harbor any ill will toward them without the knowledge of their ancestors. Soon their tales of mischief changed from stories to very real concerns. Their penchant for the Changeling nonsense drove the mortal wolves to once again hunt them down."

"So history repeated itself?"

"Let me finish, would you?" Quany growled and Eygló huffed in annoyance.

"This time, though, instead of bloodshed, they eventually managed to make a deal. The Faelcu did not want to leave the mortal realm, and the mortal wolves wanted nothing to do with their tricks. In the end they agreed to simple terms: a wolf would join them in their realm when it grew old, to entertain them and tell them tales of the mortal world. They would get what they sought: a way to satiate their curiosity, while the mortal wolves could live in peace without worrying about Changelings, among other things. It was dubbed An Aonta."

"Why hasn't this been an issue before?" Eygló questioned and his brows furrowed.

"That's what I'm not sure of... Why now? As far as I know, if this story is to be believed, this is not something the pack has done for generations. If it was something that happened, why did it stop? Why is it an issue now when it hasn't been spoken of for generations?"

Sirona raised to her paws and began pacing, her swirling thoughts plain on her face. She spoke aloud, but was not addressing anyone in particular, "This all started with Bronagh. We settled that score; everything should have gone back to normal. And it did, for a time... and now we're thrust back into it."

"Wait a minute," Lorcan piped up. "Bronagh is the one who opened the portals, isn't she? They weren't open before?"

Quany observed Lorcan thoughtfully before nodding. "That's right. There was none of the portal nonsense going on with the whispers and lights. What are you getting at?"

Lorcan looked excited now. "So if the portals weren't open before... what if Bronagh's interference opened them, and then they never got closed like we thought? Bronagh was just a spirit; she wasn't a Faelcu. What if she wasn't able to control them at all?"

The wolves lapsed into a stunned silence for several moments before Sirona spoke. "So if Bronagh truly had no power... does that mean the Faelcu themselves were behind this all along?"

"Given what the old stories say, I suppose it's not out of the question," Quany added. "We don't know the extent of their power, but we do know that they like to prey on mortal wolves with their tricks. It's entirely possible they simply used Bronagh to gain access to our world."

"So you're saying they forced Bronagh to do what she did?"

The elder shook his head again, but did not look at Eygló as he spoke, staring off into the distance instead. "Not forced, no... but perhaps Bronagh becoming what she did all those years ago wasn't entirely a coincidence."

The den went silent again, but Lorcan didn't seem convinced.

"But that doesn't make sense," he protested, seeming oddly agitated. "When did the portals get closed? How? Why?"

"I think we're beyond the point of anything making sense," Sirona told him softly. "We can only guess. The issue at hand is that they're still open."

Eygló thought over it for a moment before musing, "He makes a good point."

"He does, Eygló," Quany agreed, "but Sirona also has a point: we don't really know, and we may never know. It's speculation that makes sense in theory, but that's all it is."

He stood and stretched, his joints popping.

"If these Faelcu are pursuing An Aonta, how will we ever get rid of them? Something that supposedly happened generations ago isn't something we have any control over," Lorcan pointed out.

Sirona sighed. "As much as I wish it weren't true, Lorcan is right. Are we truly going to pay the price for something our ancestors did?"

"Haven't you already? Haven't I?" Eygló murmured mostly to herself, but when all eyes turned to her she added, "What if… you forge a new one?"

The herbalist looked at her curiously, her eyes going wide at the thought. "A new one? You mean a new An Aonta?" She looked to Quany. "Could it work?"

But Quany was looking at Eygló with admiration, clearly impressed. "In theory...I don't see why not," he agreed. "I've no idea how, but if the intention is there and they get what they want, how could they refuse?"

But Lorcan's fur bristled and he let out a growl. "You want to let them take more wolves? Are you crazy?"

Eygló rose to her paws to meet him, holding herself tall. "An old wolf whose purpose has been served and whose days are numbered? I think that is a much smaller price to pay than what I gave."

"Lorcan, calm down. Your temper will get us nowhere," Sirona scolded, and the young wolf struggled to quiet himself.

"My hope," Quany continued quietly, "is to see if we can come to a new agreement—one where they benefit but we don't lose any more members of our pack. Or other packs, for that matter. What remains to be seen, however, is if it will work at all. The Faelcu are not known to be forgiving. It's best we prepare for the worst."

Lorcan scowled and shook his head vehemently. "I'm not letting them take any more wolves; I'll kill them before they do." He puffed himself up. He was young and strong, but naive. As much as he may have been earnest in his sentiment, Eygló rolled her eyes at his posturing.

"Going to take them on all by yourself, are you?"

"Yes, yes I am," he snapped, giving her a hard stare. "And don't think—"

"That's enough. It's not fair to take your anger out on Eygló, Lorcan," Sirona interjected, pressing her head against his. "I know you're strong, and I know you want Lowen back. I want him back... but he's gone, and a fight isn't going to get us anywhere. It may very well put us in more danger."

The young hunter slumped at bit as the fight seemed to melt out of him. He sighed and looked back to Eygló. "I'm sorry. Please don't hate me."

"Eygló doesn't have it in them to hate anyone but me," Quany said tartly, and her irritation with the hunter was replaced with surprise.

"That's not true. I don't hate you."

But the elder seemed unconvinced, leaving the den with a gesture to Lorcan to follow.

"Come on, pup. Pretend to help me back to my den so your mother feels like I'm being looked after."

Sirona rolled her eyes and said primly, "Time for a nap, old man?"

Quany whipped around, mouth agape. Eygló raised her eyebrows, looking at the herbalist in surprise and amusement.

"I…" He seemed off guard, unsure what to say. The herbalist's lips peeled back in a toothy grin, which seemed to pull him back to the present. "You'd like that, wouldn't you. But no, I'm going to be far more useful than that. I'm going to try and come up with an idea… and nap at the same time."

"Sounds like fun," Eygló teased and Sirona snorted softly. Quany pointedly ignored her.

"Be careful out there." Like a switch, his sour, teasing demeanor became serious, and he looked back and forth between the she-wolves. "I have no idea what they're capable of. Stay close."

With that, he turned and walked stiffly out of the den, limping on his paw. A cold nose poked Eygló's shoulder and she looked to the smiling herbalist.

"Let's go back to your territory together. It will be safer that way. I think we all need some time to come to terms with this and prepare for whatever is about to come." Her face darkened and became troubled.

With Sirona by her side, Eygló made the trek back home. Her company was not unwelcome as the whispers and lights danced at the edge of her senses, haunting them the whole way home.

Eygló returned to the Chaorrain Pack early the next morning, where Quany, Sirona, and Lorcan were already waiting at the edge of the clearing. The young wolf trotted up to her immediately.

"Hi, Eygló. The Faelcu didn't get you last night, it seems."

"Are you coming with us?" Though she spoke to Lorcan, she looked to Sirona as she said it. The herbalist grimaced.

"He won't be persuaded otherwise; trust me, I've tried."

"I'm not a pup! I'm more than capable of handling myself," he shot back.

"I'm still your mother; I'll worry about you no matter your age." She turned to Eygló hopefully. "Maybe you can make him see reason?"

Lorcan was clearly annoyed by this, and Eygló wondered if he could not see what she did in Sirona's eyes: more than just a mother's concern, but the worry of losing more of her family.

"Bronagh was powerful, dangerous. These Faelcu seem even more so. You'd be safer here."

Lorcan peeled his lips back in a snarl and growled at the chieftain, "Oh yeah? You're going to make me, are you?"

Eygló felt a pang of sympathy for the young wolf. She could imagine that in his place she would feel the same, to want to go to protect her mother, make right the loss of her sibling. Still, the chieftain drew herself up at the challenge, prepared to do just as he said if Sirona wanted.

"Lorcan, please," Sirona's voice cracked, and he whipped his head around to look at her. "Please... I can't lose you and Lowen... and then Conall..." She slumped over, and Lorcan looked away.

"I'm sorry," he murmured. "I can't just stay here. I can't. It's not fair that I have to stay."

"It's not about fairness, pup. It's about respecting your mother. Which you could learn to do more of," Quany said pointedly.

"You're not wrong for wanting to do this for your family," Eygló said more softly. "But your mother is the family you have now, and she needs you to stay. So stay."

Lorcan clawed at the dirt in agitation before turning away in a huff. "Fine. It's not like anyone wants me here anyway."

"Lorcan, you know that—" Sirona started, but Quany cut her off with a shake of his head.

"He'll be all right," Quany assured her. "He's angry now, but it's better than the alternative."

With a grimace he turned away from the young wolf stalking back to the pack and began descending the rise. Sirona took longer to tear her gaze away from her son and follow, with Eygló taking up the rear.

No one spoke as they trekked across the land to the place where the cave sat. The closer they got, the heavier the air, and lights danced on the edge of their vision. Eygló began to hear the whispering again, and as she looked at her companions, she don't think she was alone. Worry was etched on each of their faces, and as they turned the bend into the clearing where the cave was, two sets of eyes peered out of the darkness as if staring into their souls.

Eygló's skin crawled as she looked into their glowing eyes, as they seemed to look through her, like they were seeing directly into her mind. Suddenly the whispers turned to yips and chattering as they stopped. Were they… laughing?

Trying to shake the feeling, the chieftain physically shook herself, standing tall and forcing her authority. "Show yourselves." "So demanding for mortals, aren't they, Radha?"

"Indeed, Ailbhe. Especially considering they have everything to lose."

The two being that stepped out of the cave, hovering on either side of their group, were unlike anything Eygló had ever seen, with distorted faces and skin like tar. They were an odd mix of wolf and something otherworldly; almost as if they were normal wolves once, morphed by the magics of the Faelcu Realm. Or perhaps they were the ones who morphed the Faelcu Realm to suit their needs.

"Don't blame us, Faelcu." Eygló spat and the one named Ailhbe hissed.

"We'll blame you all we want. It was you who sealed us away."

"You're the one who broke An Aonta. Oathbreakers all, these mortals!" Radha hunched down, looking ready to pounce.

"Now, now." Quany strode forward, making a great effort to hide his limp. "We did no such thing; do you recognize us? We are not the wolves you have a grievance with."

The two Faelcu simply glared at him, brushing off his words.

"All mortals are the same. You take what you want. We care not who you are."

"Then what, now you're just going to take what you want?"

Radha turned their eyes to Eygló, peeling their lips back in a snarl—or perhaps a sickening smile. "It's not what we want, it's what we are owed. For years you sealed us away and severed our agreement; An Aonta was broken and you will pay its price."

"Yes, oh I so do love that strong wolf, the one with the red mask? The little black one is quite fun to play with, too," Ailbhe added and Sirona bristled. She let out a low, deeply guttural growl, and Eygló moved to block her.

"Don't let them get to you," she hissed quietly, but the creatures' large ears still heard.

"You should listen, little herb-chewer. Going to attack us, hmm? I'd like to see you try." Radha moved to stand beside Ailbhe, creating an imposing picture.

"And here I thought you'd be amenable to make a new agreement—as it stands, I'm not feeling very generous, myself." Quany switched tactics, understand the Faelcu would never accept they weren't responsible for severing the pact.

"Why would we want to make yet another agreement with you, mortal? You never hold up your end of the deal."

"The wolves of our past don't define us. We are not oath breakers like our ancestors."

Eygló watched in tense silence as the Faelcu shared a look.

"No? Yet you came up with that dreadful herbal mixture that messes with our magics." Ailbhe paced forward to stand nose to nose with Quany. "How are we to take that, hmm? As an act of peace?"

Sirona, having composed herself, boldly walked up to the Faelcu. "Listen here. We weren't going to stand by and let you take more wolves. Wasn't that part of An Aonta? You weren't supposed to use your magics to take wolves. You're just as much oath breakers as our ancestors were."

Radha snarled, leaping toward Sirona with teeth bared and eyes flashing, but Eygló was quick to jump to her defense. This seemed to surprise the Faelcu, who retreated a step from this larger target.

"Enough!" Quany's voice echoed loudly around the clearing, bouncing off of the cave and making even the Faelcu pause. "I'm old and tired, and I don't have the patience for this nonsense. You know what we want: leave this world in peace. Tell us, Faelcu, what is it you want?"

The Faelcu looked between each other again in a long, shared silence. Finally, they turned back to the wolves with a resolved expression. Ailbhe spoke for the pair.

"We want what we have always wanted: mortals. We like this realm; we'll not leave again. Nor will we be tricked into doing so."

"We won't tolerate your presence here, Faelcu," Sirona said. "You'll not take more wolves, and you'll not play your tricks. I'll make sure of that." Her eyes were hard, and Radha stepped forward again. Eygló's fur bristled, lowering her head and readying herself for a snarl... but the Faelcu smiled instead.

"So you say, herb-chewer. Tell me, what's more important: protecting the wolves of this world... or your precious packmates?" Sirona stiffened and Eygló let out the growl after all.

"What is that supposed to mean?" The chieftain asked, but her heart was already hardening with a cold clarity.

Ailhbe made an odd trilling sound. A laugh? "You seem clever. Eygló, they call you? It seems we have come to an agreement after all."

"Enough with the cryptic talk. State your intentions, Faelcu," Quany demanded, and Radha rolled their eyes.

"You sure are impatient for an old one. We'll say this: if you want your packmates back, you'll have to let us have our pick from the wolves around here. In return we'll leave your pack alone—but we won't be denied what we're owed."

An utter silence fell upon the cave as the wolves took in the proposal. Eygló nodded to herself, confused by the anger she saw on her companions' faces. To Ylfing, the sacrifice of a wolf was a common occurrence. A stranger for a loved one seemed like an easy choice. "An interesting proposal."

"What?" Sirona whirled on her. "Are you mad? I'll not let you use the lives of our packmates as a bargaining chip!"

She turned, fully prepared to leap for the Faelcu's throat. Eygló moved to stop her, but she paused as Quany spoke, "Sirona." It was a small warning, but it was enough. She took several deep breaths to calm herself. Satisfied, Quany addressed the Faelcu once again. "You expect us to just hand over the wolves of the surrounding packs? I'll not start a war with our neighbors."

"We don't expect you to do anything... at all. You will simply watch," Ailbhe replied cooly.

"So you're asking our permission to take wolves of your choosing?" Eygló clarified and Ailbhe peered at her curiously.

"This one's not as dull as the usual crowd, but you're not especially bright, are you? No, we don't need permission from mortal wolves to do anything. We simply require your acquiescence."

Sirona looked horrified. "You want us to lie? I'm not going to leave our neighbors to your mercy!"

Radha shook their head. "Why are the herb-chewers the most stubborn? Fine then, since you don't seem to understand: we're here whether you like it or not, and we will find a way to do as we please. Eventually your little remedy won't work, and then you'll lose more packmates."

Their gaze went to Quany, then Eygló. She felt her pelt prickled unconsciously. She looked at Sirona as she watched the horror play out on the herbalist's face as she tried to make the decision: betray her neighbors, or betray her pack?

"I can't..." Her face was blank, her eyes staring into nothing.

Eygló addressed the Faelcu instead. "Other packs already know about the salve. They'll be protected."

Sirona blinked at her words as they drew her back to the moment. "That's right... it's too late. Eygló has already made sure the packs around here know about the herbal mixture." She stared down the two otherworldly beings. "They know how to make it; your efforts will be in vain."

Ailbhe cackled. "They may know about it, but they still need herbs to make it. It's settled: you'll destroy the herb patches these herbs come from, and no one will be able to make it. Not even your own pack. Even if you decline, we're fully capable of doing so ourselves. Then you'll have lost the chance to protect your pack."

Radha looked gleefully at Ailbhe. "Ah look, what a dilemma we've given them. Mortals and their morality will always make them weak."

Sirona looked at Quany helplessly as Eygló thought to herself. Had they truly lost the upper hand? The herbs grew far and wide, could two Faelcu do enough damage to destroy them for all wolves?

"And if we refuse?"

"You'll be responsible for your packmates' disappearances that are to come. We don't need your silly little pack... but you certainly need us," Radha said ominously. "We won't pass up an opportunity when it so nicely presents itself... but make no mistake, Eygló. The wolves of this land are only the beginning. We've heard wonderful tales of the packs in your territory... we might just decide to travel, one day."

Quany and Sirona looked troubled, torn by the decision. Eygló stared back into the eyes of the Faelcu at their cold, calculating threat, but little did they know it gave her information she needed. They did not have the power to scorch the earth, at least not yet. Whatever damage was done to these lands, the herbs would be safe in others.

"Fine." She nodded curtly and Ailhbe and Radha smiled eerily.

"Very good. Go on then." Radha turned to Sirona. "You will go with Eygló."

"The herbalist's lips peeled back in a snarl. "And I suppose that's not negotiable?"

"It's not," Ailbhe replied, then looked to Quany. "You will stay here. Nothing wrong with a little encouragement."

They circled menacingly around the group as Eygló and Sirona turned to leave, feeling the Faelcus' eyes following them.

"We should split up, Eygló. We'll cover more ground that way." Sirona's expression was carefully neutral, her voice suddenly calm. At first Eygló thought it was in defeat, and she wished to share her thoughts, her hope, but was worried the Faelcu would still hear.

"Let's stay together," Eygló looked at the herbalist meaningfully, hoping she would understand there was more the chieftain wanted to say, and was surprised by the look of frustration on the she-wolf's face.

"But—" Sirona made an aggravated noise, then looked back to the clearing, as if considering something. With a sigh, she turned away, stalking forward without a glance at the chieftain. "Fine."

Eygló felt a tickling of something at the back of her mind that surprised her when she placed it. Mistrust. Why had she wanted to split up? What had she planned to do?

Eygló's mind whirled through thoughts quickly as she watch's Sirona's back, but she spoke slowly, "Where I am from, winter's embrace smothers the vegetation. Every year we must prepare for the loss of life, what seems should be impossible to return from, and yet every year, when the snow thaws, that life returns. What is lost here will live on elsewhere, and what seems destroyed will grow anew."

Sirona pawed furiously at a patch of herbs. "This isn't the laws of nature, Eygló! These are forces we don't understand, forces we can't trust! We're endangering the lives of who knows how many, and for what? Conall… Lowen..." Her voice caught and she struggled to keep her composure. "They're gone. We need to fight for those who remain, but instead we're doing their dirty work!"

"You're wrong," Eygló told her, not unkindly, and the herbalist seemed caught off guard by the bluntness of the statement. "We're not doing their dirty work, nor are we doing this for nothing. It's true, we can't know if they will hold their end of the bargain, but this gives us a chance to bide our time. Play their game by their rules and beat them. The packs know about the herbs, and they will continue to flourish outside these lands. It may make them harder to get, but they will have had a chance. We can give them a chance to return. They said it themselves, if we don't do this, they will destroy them and continue to take wolves."

Eygló was quiet for a moment as they stewed in their own thoughts, their warring opinions. Finally, she added more softly, "But… I believe they will hold up their end. After how strongly they felt about the pact being broken, I don't think they would break a new one."

The chieftain could tell Sirona did not agree, but they did not speak on the matter further as they tore through the surrounding area, clawing at the herbs they found. When they returned to the clearing the intense eyes of the Faelcu burned into them. Quany watched their approach intently, his expression stoic.

Eygló drew herself up, Sirona at her side, boldly facing the two beings. "We did it."

"Well, well," Radha snickered. "The herb-chewer actually did it."

"You're no better than any other mortal, are you? Ailbhe taunted. "In the end, you'll always do what benefits you."

Eygló felt her fur begin to prickle in fear at their provocation, but Sirona seemed defeated, her eyes glazed.

"That's quite enough," Quany growled, moving to stand with them. "They've done what you've asked; isn't it time to hold up your end?"

"So impatient," Ailbhe tutted. "First… you'll make a promise."

"We already did what you asked!" Eygló snarled, her anger hot but her body filling with a cold dread. What if Sirona was right after all? "It's too late to change your mind!"

She expected the Faelcu to turn on her in their own fury, but instead Radha seemed to study the chieftain. "For a wolf who isn't a part of their pack, you sure are invested in them, aren't you?"

"Don't try to figure mortals out, Radha. Let's be done with this; they're grating my last nerve." Ailbhe strode forward to to stand before Quany and Sirona. Like an approaching storm, something in the air seemed to change, prickling with electricity.

Radha joined their counterpart and with one swift motion they pressed their noses to Quany and Sirona. Both wolves went rigid and shivered as if a cold wind had touched them. Before Eygló could interfere  the Faelcu stepped back and Quany and Sirona were blinking, seemingly back to normal. The chieftain looked between the two uncertainly, the Faelcu appearing pleased.

"There. Now you are bound. An Aonta will not easily be broken now," Ailbhe said.

"What… what was that?" Quany repeatedly wiped his paw over his face as if trying to remove something.

"A contingency. We'll not easily give our trust to your kind again. If you break this oath, your suffering will be great."

"And what exactly does that mean?" The chieftain tried to keep her composure but looked at Sirona with concern.

"It means, nosy mortal," Radha snapped, agitated, "that their word is bound to us now. They can't break it."

Quany growled. "You have so little faith in us?"

"I'll not listen to you announce how you never break your word, so save it, elder. We've been burned before and we've learned our lesson. Now, if you don't follow through, well…" Ailbhe left the word dangling, letting their intention speak for itself.

"We already have followed through. Now it's your turn." Eygló interjected.

"Don't be preposterous; you've only just begun."

Unease twisted in the chieftain's gut. Had they been tricked?

"Just begun? Stop playing games. I'm tired of this." Eygló was surprised to see Sirona had regained her composure, facing the Faelcu head on. "I'm not a pawn!"

"You have no choice. It's not like it's hard," Radha sniffed indignantly. "You just have to make sure those herbs stay dead."

Eygló clenched her jaw so hard she could hear her teeth grinding. Her eyes flicked with guilt to Sirona, whose eyes widened as she tried to speak but no sound came out.

"So you want an herbalist to destroy herbs." Quany's words were measured but there was a warning behind them.

"She won't," Eygló said tensely.

"She will," Ailbhe insisted. "She wants her packmate back, doesn't she?"

Quany wore an expression like he had tasted something sour, but Sirona was harder to read. None of them spoke, but the chieftain desperately tried to catch the herbalist's eye. The rules of the game had changed, but they hadn't lost. Traveling and trading for herbs was normal for Ylfing, the Chaorrain Pack could adjust. Play by their rules and beat them at their own game.

"My packmates… you'll give them back? If I agree to go against everything I know and keep the herbs destroyed… you'll release them?"

"A deal is a deal," Radha said, then added, "And unlike you, we keep ours."

The warring ideals played out plainly on Sirona's face. "You've already done it," Eygló murmured. "You've earned it."

Emboldened, the herbalist lifted her head high and stared down the Faelcu. "Fine. You have my word. Now give me Conall and Lowen back."

The Faelcu's laughter rang out, sending a shiver down their spines. "You expect us to give you both? Greedy, greedy mortals. You may choose one."

Sirona leaped at them, snapping her jaws so close to Ailbhe's snout that they jerked back in surprise. "You said you'd give them back! Now who's the oathbreaker?"

Eygló was swiftly by her side, snarling, "Liars!"

Radha turned to the chieftain furiously at her intervention. "We said you could have them back. We never said how many." Then, turning their back on herm Radha shoved Sirona back from Ailbhe roughly. "Since we're feeling generous, you get to choose. Who will it be?"

Sirona's eyes went wide, her mouth opening and closing as she tried to voice an impossible decision: Conall, her mate and leader of her pack, or Lowen, her precious son and mate to her dear friend Maeve? In her uncertainty her eyes caught Eygló's and the she-wolves shared a long moment of silence.

Her mind immediately flashed to Conall, to the tough times the Chaorrain Pack would face and the guidance of a strong leader that they would need. In the time of her mother's reign Eygló certainly believed the chieftain held the most value, but now, as chieftain herself, she wasn't so sure. She had seen the role passed on, would pass it on herself. Ylfing continued regardless of who wore the pelt. Who were they really except wolves who stepped up when the moment called for it? There would always be wolves who stepped up. Isn't that what Quany and Sirona have already done? Couldn't Lowen?

She thought of Niði and grief squeezed her chest so tight she couldn't breathe. Would he save her over their pups? No. But the thought did not bring her pain. She would not want him to. She would give anything for them to be together again, even if that meant she could not be with them.

Finally, she thought of Njóla, who started this journey, always thinking of the future when the rest of Ylfing was rooted in the past. Hadn't all of this been for Lowen?

Very quietly, so quietly Eygló was not certain she even spoke, she told her, "I would want my son."

Sirona nodded, resolute. "Give Lowen back to us."

Without hesitating the Faelcu spun and headed back toward the cave. When they reached the entrance they looked back at Sirona.

"Remember your word, herbalist."

"We will be watching."

They disappeared into the inky darkness and the lights began to dance. The air was oppressively heavy, like a weight, then, suddenly, it lifted. The deep blackness of the cave retreated, replaced with a normal shadow. The wolves looked between each other, unsure what to expect, when there was movement in the cave.

"Lowen!" Sirona ran forward as a wolf stumbled out, touching her nose to his. He seemed well, if just confused.

"Wait... what are you doing here, mom?" His eyes moved to Quany and then Eygló. "And Quany? Who is this other wolf?" Sirona didn't answer, too busy looking him over for any sign that he was anything other than perfectly healthy.

"It's so good to see you, Lowen." Quany stepped forward and touched noses with him as well. "You've been missed."

"Missed?" Lowen's brow furrowed. "I just went to scout the lower area of the territory. I haven't been gone long."

Eygló's brows shot up in surprise and she asked without thinking, "Do you not remember?"

"Remember what?" He snapped, becoming agitated now.

Sirona took over, gesturing back toward their home. "Why, you agreed to meet up with Maeve! Honestly, it's a wonder you remember you have a mate."

Lowen brightened. "Oh! Yes... I'm sure I did. I must have lost track of the time. She'll rip me a new one." He took off at a lope and Sirona hurried after him, shooting Eygló a smile before she disappeared.

"Well, that's a blessing in some way," Quany said. "At least we know if anything bad did happen when he was with them, he doesn't remember."

"Is it?" Eygló said thoughtfully. "He'll be in for a shock. With Maeve."

Quany sighed. "That will have to be handled delicately. Sirona will manage, though."

With one last look at the cave he turned to follow them, smiling over his shoulder. "Thank you, Eygló. I'm not sue what the future holds, but for now our pack is safe and our packmate is home. We couldn't have done it without you. Stay safe, friend."

With that he took his time catching up with his packmates, limping. Eygló remained watching them until they were far out of sight, thinking with a bittersweet feeling in her heart about the joyous reunion Lowen would have with his family and knowing that was not what awaited her return home.

Over time the lights faded and the strange sightings disappeared. With Lowen's return, Eygló felt her role was complete, and, if she was honest with herself, found it easier not to stay in contact with the Chaorrain Pack. The chasm between her and Niði was already a constant reminder of the events that transpired, one she was not sure they could overcome. But they had Glámr to focus on now, and she had her role as chieftain. By the time summer returned again Sólbjört, Glórnir, and Róta had all passed on. But with the new light also came new life, with litters by Hrímgarðr and Ljósunn and two newcomers: Myrkva and Björk. It was a reminder to Eygló that no matter how final things felt, as frozen as her world seemed, life continued, the sun would thaw the snow, and so she too had to keep pushing forward.