“Now I might end the story there,” I said, adopting something of Willow’s own style, “but that would leave my listeners dissatisfied. So I will tell you what came next. The druid was right about the wolves—they would not take this lost son back into their clan. The boy hung about on the fringes for days, trying to edge in, to slip himself back among them unobtrusively, but the clan leader kept him off. The wolves would not attack the boy. They knew he was not of ordinary humankind. But they could not receive him as one of them. It was too late for that. Perhaps, even if he had remained among them, this would have occurred anyway when he began to grow into a man. They sensed the danger innate in his kind. Wolves have no sentiment. That he was raised by one of their own meant nothing at all.

“After some time, the druid noticed that he was no longer quite alone in his secluded corner of the forest. Wolf-child would slip in from time to time, hesitating on the edge of the clearing, wary and pale. The druid began to divide his rations into two and set one half out on the flat stones by the rowans. At first Wolf-child would snatch his food and bolt. But as he regained the ability to trust, he would come to squat near the round pool and eat while the druid ate. The druid began to talk to him. A long, long time later, Wolf-child began to answer, not in growls and whining, but in words. And that was the start of a whole new story.”

I was done. Willow bowed her head courteously in my direction, giving me the recognition due from one storyteller to another. I felt my face grow warm with pleasure.

“Very good, Clodagh,” Aidan said. “I like this ending far better than mine.”

“You have something of Conor’s storytelling gift, Clodagh,” put in Father with a smile. “This tale, in all its versions, has a great deal to teach us.”

As a discussion of the story began, I got up quietly and left the hall. I had heard enough about the boy raised by wolves. It was a sad tale whichever way it worked out. If such a thing occurred in real life, the lad would probably be dead before he ever reached the age of manhood. Indeed, the she-wolf would likely have seen the newborn child not as a cub to be nurtured but as an easy supper. I had enough to worry about without dwelling on such things. Besides, there was something else I felt compelled to do.