I regarded the sleeping Cathal, stretched out under the cloak with his head pillowed on one bent arm. In repose his features were pleasing: not handsome like Aidan’s or harmonious like Johnny’s, but grave and strong. The eyelids were shadowed with weariness; the bold strokes of the fox tattoo emphasized the dark, emphatic brows, the straight nose and prominent cheekbones. The contours of his face were all angular, with nothing soft about them, though his lips looked less severe in slumber. If he was actually Aidan’s half-brother, as I suspected, there was little physical evidence of it. It’s better if you and I keep our distance, he’d said. I wondered, again, why he had kissed me.

“I don’t want him to be an enemy,” I whispered.

There was a sound like a dry cough from low down in the undergrowth right by me. I started violently, clutching Becan to my chest. “Who’s there?” I hissed, telling myself it was probably only a hedgehog and knowing in my bones that it wasn’t.

A patter of feet in the bushes. Not claws, not paws; feet in shoes. Crazily, I thought of clurichauns in little green boots.

Cathal stirred, flinging an arm over his eyes, then rolled so his back was to me. I really didn’t want to wake him up, not unless I couldn’t cope alone. He’d looked so exhausted. In sleep, he seemed almost peaceful. If this thing, whatever it was, popped out armed to the teeth, I wouldn’t hesitate to scream. There wasn’t much point in having a warrior of Inis Eala by my side if I couldn’t make use of him in a crisis.

“Show yourself,” I said as boldly as I could, my hand curling around the hilt of the little knife in my belt. “Friend or foe?”

A low chuckle emanated from the ferns, and a moment later out stepped a small figure in a hooded cloak of gray fur. I could not see its face, for it held a mask before its features, a dog mask made of shining silver, wrought with stunning detail down to each tooth in the gaping mouth, each hair on the shining pelt. The ears were pricked like those of a hunting hound on alert. The creature behind this concealment was child-sized. Its hand, holding the silver rod that supported the false face, was human in shape but covered in fur like the cloak. Maybe gloved; maybe not. Through holes in the mask I could see a hint of lustrous eyes. “A challenge!” The being’s voice was deep and strong; this was no child. “Friend or foe: I like that. Why are you traveling with him?” The creature jerked its head toward Cathal. “He smells wrong. Why did you bring him here? Best lose him as quick as you can.”