I looked down at the sleeping child, curled in his damp shawls on the forest floor. Leaf-lids covered the pebble eyes, and the bark slivers that formed his lips moved gently in and out as if he dreamed of sucking. His hands were open, trusting. “He’s a real child with real needs and feelings, despite his odd appearance,” I said. “He deserves to be cared for just as Finbar does, just as any human baby does. It wouldn’t be right to neglect him. Clean clothing is only part of it. There are stories and singing; food and shelter and love. Every child needs those things. Becan shouldn’t be denied them just because he’s . . . different.” Perhaps, when I got home and looked in my mirror, I would be different too. Perhaps I would be so scarred that my chances of attracting a good husband, someone like Aidan, would have all vanished away. I thought of my sister Maeve, far off in Harrowfield, with the cruel marks of her burns disfiguring her face.

“Very well,” said Cathal. “When we’ve eaten, I’ll show you a place I spotted where there’s a small stream and a pool. We can wrap him in the cloak; I’ll give you my tunic to wear in the meantime.” He was removing it even as he spoke. “Now let’s try these mushrooms.”

Approaching the pool later, we disturbed a badger drinking. I held my breath, watching it turn its head to peer in our direction then retreat into the shelter of the ferns that fringed the waterway. An ordinary badger, with no sign of eldritch qualities at all. Somewhere high in the canopy above us birds were exchanging mournful cries, confirming that there was indeed life on this side of the river. In the undergrowth something scurried away, fearful of our cautious footsteps.

I settled the sleeping baby between the massive roots of a tree. Cathal stationed himself on a flat rock and I knelt by the pool’s edge to wash out the two shawls and the swaddling. The water was preternaturally chill; it was like plunging my hands into liquid ice. As I pounded the cloth on the stones, I tried to concentrate on a plan for tomorrow. How far could we reasonably expect to walk? Perhaps we should look for high ground so we could assess the lie of the land. If we saw any signs of life, would it be better to hide or to reveal ourselves? Somehow, stepping out and asking to be taken to Finbar’s abductors did not seem altogether a wise course of action. Those creatures at the river had been intent on attacking us.

“Are you done?” Cathal asked quietly. “We should return to the fire.”