Ailill

Ailill lay across the warm stone that shadowed the entrance to the dens, eyes closed as he soaked in the late spring sun. Below him, the new year’s pups played in the tall grass. Their joyful yips and growls made him smile.

“You look content,” A soft voice said behind him. Ailill opened one amber eye. In the shade of one of the trees, a dark, russet she-wolf watched him. Ailill tilted his head, beckoning her close.

“Can’t an old wolf enjoy a bit of sunbathing every now and then?”

Maeve snorted as she moved to lay beside him. “You’re not that old yet, my dear.”

“Perhaps. Perhaps not.” Ailill shifted until he was leaning full against Maeve, his head draped across her front paws. He would not tell her, but he had felt the ache of the spring’s thaw in his bones that year. Faintly, but enough to leave him stiff and uncomfortable when the mornings brought frost instead of dew. He could no longer be sure the white on his muzzle was just from his markings. Maeve herself showed no signs of aging. Her eyes were just as bright, her movements as quick and effortless as the days of their youth.

Meave licked one of his ears. “What are you thinking about?”

“Do you remember the first spring? After Fiadh had the pups?”

“And you nearly lost your tail with worry over them?”

Ailill laughed. “Yes. Would you have thought we would be as we are now?”

“With our pack strong and skilled? Our children grown and capable? Or us, old and lazy and growing fat?” Maeve’s voice was filled with laughter, but Ailill could sense the wistfulness beneath.

“Everything changes, Maeve. We certainly have. Is it not an accomplishment to grow old and fat? We have made strong children, who feed and protect us just as we fed and protected them.”

Maeve sighed, but it held less weight than before. She shifted slightly, and Ailill felt the weight of her chin on his shoulders. He hummed contentedly. Below, the pups organized a new game, something with bears and deer and an eagle. Ailll listened as they began to play anew, fearless the way pups always were. And why should they not? There was nowhere safer than the dens of the Fianna.