The creature raised one hand. “Hot blood. Strong spirit.” She shook her head fiercely, then turned away.

“What do you want?” Breanna asked.

“Food. Drink. Grain for the horse.”

Mother’s mercy. “Sloane, ask one of the footmen to fetch a small sack of feed from the stables.”

“At once, Lady Breanna.”

The creature twisted around, stared at her again.

A chilling calm settled over Breanna. “Cook, bring out a wheel of cheese—and one of the carry baskets Elinore uses.” She took a step toward the table. The creature moved around to the other side. Moved away from her. Which gave her enough courage to keep moving forward. There was bread on the table, along with a cold beef roast and some vegetables. The cook had started to make a beef broth for the wounded and a heartier soup for anyone who could take more solid nourishment.

“Bring me some butter and a jar of preserves.” She sliced bread, carved the meat. The cook crept to the table, handing her things as she asked for them. By the time Sloane returned with the sack of grain, she had built two generous beef sandwiches as well as a butter and preserve sandwich, cut a thick chunk of cheese from the wheel, wrapped it all in the white napkins that were used at the servants’ table, and placed it in the basket.

“Do we have any canteens?” she asked Sloane.

“There are a few that are not in use,” he replied.

“Fill one with water, the other with ale.” Breanna looked at the creature who had watched her in silence. “Is ale acceptable?”

The creature hesitated, then nodded.

While Sloane filled the canteens, Breanna repacked the basket to fit the bag of feed in one end. No point having those talons ripping through the cloth and having the feed spill out. If the woman inside still cared enough about her horse to ask for feed, it would hurt her to have nothing to offer because of what her body had become.

When the canteens were placed on the table, Breanna stepped back. “If there’s something else you want, take what you can gather.”

The creature made a hideous sound that Breanna realized was meant as laughter. Cruelty filled those dark eyes for a moment before it was battled back by a strong will. “I can gather armies.” She reached for the basket, then hesitated. “Breanna.”

Breanna swallowed hard and wished Sloane had never spoken her name.

“The witches in the Old Place. In the circles of light.”

Her heart pounded, throbbed in her temples. “My m-mother and grandmother.”

“They have gone to the Summerland.”

Tears pricked her eyes. Keely’s and Nuala’s spirits were out of reach now. Safe.

Grabbing the basket and canteens, the creature hurried toward the open kitchen door. Then stopped. “Have you seen the Hunter?”

“I’ve seen the Hunter.”

“Tell her…Warn her that the Gatherer has come.”