Page 67 of The Wulver's Bond
Thank you for your kind welcome and the basket of goodies. I had no idea there were so many ways to eat seaweed.
I’m enjoying life in Shetland. Very windy though! Granny Ruth always said it took nerve to survive out here.
Take care!
Diana
‘Bit short,’ Moss said, sounding disappointed at first. Then he perked up. ‘But it’s a start.’
‘A start to what?’ Arran asked, carefully folding the letter onto a shelf.
‘Maybe a friend?’ Moss poked Arran in the chest, and couldn’t resist following it with a ruffle of his fur. ‘I reckon you’re a lonely old dog without people, wolfie.’
Arran’s ears twitched in surprise. ‘I’m not lonely, Moss. You’re everything I need.’
‘But you like humans. You miss them,’ Moss said shrewdly. ‘I’m not saying I want to host a party in my grove—although a party sounds like a fun bit of chaos, actually—but maybe there’s no harm in just reaching out to someone.’
Moss’s words sat with Arran for days. He found himself retrieving the mobile phone that the young Walker witch had given him, and stared at it with apprehension.
Feeling big and clumsy with it in his paws, he typed out a message.
Hello. Is all well with you? Arran.
He put it back on the shelf, half-expecting to receive no reply, but five minutes later the device buzzed.
Lachy here. Cam’s out and forgot his phone. We’re all good! Are you in trouble?
Arran carefully typed a response.
No. Just checking in.
The phone pinged back a smiley face in answer.
A weight lifted in Arran’s heart. Moss was right. Perhaps it was time to try rejoining the world. A little piece at a time.
He went to find Moss and discovered him sunbathing despite the cold autumn air. Arran lay down next to him and pulled Moss into his fur.
‘Mm.’ Moss hummed contentedly and reached up to scratch Arran behind the ears. Arran’s tail gently thumped the ground while they watched the clouds rolling overhead.
Here, in this ravine, each in the company of their life partner, Moss and Arran were at peace.
Together, they sheltered.
Epilogue
Cam Walker swung his motorbike into its usual space outside the Walker family cottage in Glencoe. He noted his aunt’s tiny Corsa also parked by the gate, and braced himself for an over-enthusiastic greeting as he walked through the front door.
‘Hello, Lachlan. Hey, Meredith,’ he called into the living room, ditching his leather jacket on a hook.
Lachlan emerged from the kitchen with the smell of warm ginger cake wafting behind him. He smiled broadly, an act which lit up his blue eyes with a happy sparkle. ‘Hello, love.’ Lachlan met Cam halfway across the room, leaning up to capture his lips in a kiss.
Cam grinned into it, running a hand through Lachlan’s golden hair. He’d never get tired of being welcomed home this way. His mind ran amuck with the things he’d do to this wonderful man if they didn’t have company.
Perhaps sensing his mood, Lachlan pulled away with a light flush of pink spreading over his cheeks. ‘Meredith’s in the back room. She’s found something she thinks you should see.’
‘Ah.’ That sounded like witching work, and therefore trouble. ‘Let’s see what it is, then.’
The back room of the Walker cottage was the hub of Cam’s witching operations. It contained a library’s worth of notes on the supernatural—creatures, curses, spells, and some dubiousfragments of gossip—painstakingly compiled by his family over generations. Meredith sat at the desk in the middle of the room, sipping a cup of tea while scrolling through her phone.
