Morag stared at her, afraid to move. She didn’t know this hard-eyed woman who walked toward her. Wasn’t sure she wanted to.

Ashk picked up the hunting horn and turned to face the Clan who now stared at her with terror in their eyes.

“I am the Hunter. Each Clan will send no less than twenty fighters down to Sylvalan. They will go to the southern end of the Mother’s Hills or the northern end, the midland coast, or to a place called Willowsbrook on the eastern side of the hills. The Clans closest to those places will be expected to defend those places. We are the Fae, and it is the Fae who are the protectors of the Old Places and the woods—and everything that lives within them. Either you are Fae or you are not. If you do not defend the land from an enemy who will wipe it clean of magic, then I will take back the gift that came from the spirit of the woods. That is your choice. If you do not make it soon, I will make it for you. I do not have to be here. I don’t even have to be in Tir Alainn. I am the Hunter. I command the woods…wherever it resides.”

Ashk turned toward her men. “Get ready to ride. We have some ground to cover today.” Then she looked at Aiden. “Will you write a song about this, Bard?”

Seeing the flash of pain in Aiden’s eyes broke the chains of fear that had kept Morag silent. “Ashk, that was cruel.”

Ashk turned to look at her. “Cruelty resides in the shadows. Didn’t you know that, Morag?” She looked at the ground. “But, sometimes, so does mercy.” Taking a deep breath, she turned back to Aiden. “My apologies, Bard.”

“Accepted, Hunter.”

Just as Morag breathed a sigh of relief, a huntsman, deathly pale and trembling, approached them.

“Hunter?” he said.

What now? Morag thought wearily. The day had barely begun, and she suspected Ashk would set a grueling pace the rest of the day.

Ashk studied him. “You’re one of Gwynith’s escorts.”

“I am, Hunter. She entrusted me to find you and deliver this.” He reached into his leather, thigh-length vest, withdrew a folded piece of paper, and held it out to her.

Ashk took it, then asked, “Will you be returning to Gwynith?”

He shook his head. “She has other messages for me to deliver.”

Aiden stepped forward. “If you meet up with a bard or minstrel who is coming east with messages, perhaps you could exchange them. That way each of you would have less of a journey.”

The huntsman tipped his head. “I thank you for the suggestion, Bard. I would like to return to Lady Gwynith as soon as possible.”

“She is well?” Ashk asked.

“She is well, Hunter.” He hesitated. “She rides with the Lady of the Moon.”

“I see. Safe journey, huntsman.”