Page 44 of Killian
Cynog wormed his way up next to her. The Fae were wonderfully quiet in the woods. She had to admit that they weren’t the worst hunting companions ever.
“Moira, my dear friend,” whispered Cynog, staring down at the temple, “there are many warlocks in our temple and that is very upsetting.”
“Yeah,” agreed Moira.
“But not as upsetting as the fact that you and Killian appear to be fighting.”
Moira debated what to do. She felt like she might burst at the seams if she didn’t say something and Killian refused to be here to argue.
“He said bad things about my grandfather,” said Moira.
“But does he even remember your grandfather?”
“No!” snarled Moira. “He does not know what he is talking about! Grandpa did not throw Uncle Rafe away. And anyway, Uncle Rafe is back now and he’s fine. So... Killian is wrong.”
“I am very confused,” said Cynog. “What did Killian say about your grandfather?”
“He said that Grandpa was wrong to kick Rafe out of the pack.”
“Ah,” said Cynog.
“He said they should have tried therapy. And I may not currently remember every wolf tradition ever, but I am fairly damn certain thatnotgoing to therapy is a wolf tradition of long standing.”
“I have no idea what therapy is,” said Cynog.
“It’s like arbitration for personal relationships,” said Moira. “Only some third party then also tells you how you’ve been doing your life wrong this whole time.”
“We have this also,” said Cynog. “We call it the Circle of Tears.You go with the person with whom you are in conflict and drink the sap of the library and then a trained mediator helps you through your hallucinations and conflict.”
“Uh,” said Moira and realized that she had no more to add to that sentence.
“It elevates your consciousness and helps you become aware of your negative patterns of growth.”
“I’m having a hard time evaluating if hallucinations are better or worse than our form of therapy. Also, for the record, there are no wolf therapists, so I’m not sure where Killian thinks they were going to find one of those, particularly back in 1968 or whenever Rafe got booted.”
“But,” said Cynog, “it is my understanding from my reading that exile from a pack is considered the stiffest form of punishment outside of death. Your uncle is all right?”
“He’s fine! Totally fine! Everything is fine!”
Cynog itched his nose. “It is my experience that repetition of the wordfineindicates that everything isnotfine.”
“You don’t know anything about it either!” snapped Moira.
“It is possible that I do not. However, it is also possible that you are feeling extreme conflict on the topic because you love your uncle and your grandfather, but also your grandfather is the leader so you feel obligated to support his decisions, even if you don’t really agree.”
Moira stared down at the warlocks.
“I dislike insightful people, Cynog. They’re irritating.”
“I completely agree,” said Cynog. “What are they doing down there?”
“Juvenile shit,” said Moira. “Lighting things on fire. Carving their initials in the tree.”
“That is sacrilege,” moaned Cynog. “I hope they are crushed to death in the center of a black hole for all eternity.”
“Sounds like a good idea. The problem is that while we arecurrently above them, the only way to engage is to go down into the valley and then up the stairs to the temple. Unfortunately, that gives them the higher ground. And while we don’t know how much ammunition—those are the little iron bits—they brought with them, judging from their gear, we can assume it’s not a small amount.”
“The shield spells did work,” said Cynog. “Mostly. They aren’t designed for so many hits so rapidly.”
