Their voices swam in and out of my consciousness, Conor saying I could not be moved tonight, Diarmid furious, Liam trying to make plans. Flashes of pain, memories of other voices. I put my hand up to cover my eyes, its roughness brushing my skin. Maybe her mother was a toad. There were other images there too. My broken garden. Father Brien lying on the ground, an empty shell of himself. Simon screaming in the dark. Oonagh combing, combing my hair, and the creatures twisting on her mirror. Pain and fear. Their voices, again and again. Prize piece of meat, eh? Just how I like it, young and juicy. How could my brothers talk on, planning, arguing now, as if I weren’t there?

“This is impossible! It’s out of the question!” Diarmid was yelling. “We can’t just leave her here! There must be some other way!”

“There is no other way,” said Conor quietly. His face was turned away from me.

“Then, by the Lady, let us end this enchantment once and for all,” said Cormack, and there was a reckless note in his voice. He got to his feet and faced his twin across the fire. “We cannot abandon her, not now. I say we use what time we have left to take her to the nearest farm, tell our story, throw ourselves on these people’s mercy. At least then Sorcha has some chance. Left alone here, she will not last the season out.”

“These people showed little mercy when they raped our sister,” said Diarmid savagely.

“Anyway, we cannot do that and return here by daybreak,” said Padriac. There was an unspoken question in his voice.

“Padriac’s right, we cannot do it,” said Liam. “Tell your story to these cottagers, and the lady Oonagh learns of Sorcha’s whereabouts tomorrow or the next day. Be away from the water at dawn, and you may end up on somebody’s dinner table tomorrow. You are not fools, I hope.”

“What are you saying?” Diarmid had pulled his dagger up from the earth and was tossing it restlessly from hand to hand.

“I’m saying this plan is impossible. I see no choice but to make Sorcha as safe and comfortable as we can; and leave her. Perhaps next time we can move her; there must be other caves down shore.” Liam did not sound altogether happy with his own suggestion.

“What do you say, druid?” Diarmid’s tone stung like a whip. “No wise pronouncements, no rhetoric to inspire us? What price your mystical craft now? Perhaps it is time we stopped heeding your advice and took matters into our own hands.” He was like a hunting dog straining at the leash.

“That’s not fair,” said Cormack, springing to his twin’s defense despite his own doubts.

“Nor is it quite accurate.” Liam spoke firmly. “You cannot have forgotten how we were able to track down our quarry tonight with such speed. Seldom have I seen a mist come down so quickly or so selectively. Or dissipate in a flash as it did when we were done. Nor have I ever before witnessed ferns and mosses creep and spread in moments to cover men’s bones and flesh so. There was a magical craft at work there; you can thank your brother for that.”