Page 5 of The Night Vision
Silas hitched a brow at Nox. “What are you talking about? What’s a fian and what do either of us have to do with wolves?”
“Well! How much time do you have and are you interested in the history of wolves in Celtic Ireland and their significance in the old world’s lore?” Nox asked excitedly but Silas shook his head.
“Give me the wave tops.”
“Fine,” Nox sighed. “The fianna were warrior-hunters who lived in the wild and some legends even describe them as transforming into raiding packs of wolves.”
“What does that have to do with me and him,” Silas asked, nodding at the skull and making Nox grin.
“The first time I picked it up I sensed wolves and a deep connection to the moon. Like you, this man belongs in the wild. And like him, I sense wolves and a connection to the moon in your ancestry.”
“Weird…”
But it wasn’t all that weird to Silas as he studied the skull. For some reason, Silas felt understood and a strong connection to their unnamed victim. Silas didn’t know anything about his own father except his name. His mother had left Silas with his grandparents before she ran off to California. She married an abusive man and was killed when Silas was six. Somehow, Nox had provided more insight into his ancestry in a few seconds than Silas had gained from decades of database searches.
“So does this Hugh Dùbhghlas hate wolves or…fianna? Is that why he’s dead?” he asked as he returned the skull to its body. Silas traced its brow and cheek, hesitant to leave it and promising to return as soon as he could before rising and looking around for any markers or landmarks.
Nox sighed as he stood. “I don’t know but I’m prepared to do whatever it takes to prevent this from happening.” He pointed at the body, then offered Silas a hopeful look. “Want to help me find this man and stop his murder?” he asked and Silas nodded as he stared down at the body, still mesmerized by the skull’s beauty.
“Sure.” Silas crossed his arms over his chest and looked up at the sky, certain he knewexactlywhere they were. A memory had been stirred and Silas could feel it tickling his brain. It would come to him soon. “I can’t figure out how any of this is real but I’m in. Let’s see if we can find this man before it’s too late and prevent his murder.”
Chapter Two
There were rarely humans in Tighe’s dreams. He usually dreamt of fishing in a particular stream or catching a rabbit in a familiar forest. Those dreams were his guide and told Tighe where to roam next. The only exception was Eoin, who would occasionally visit when Tighe missed him the most and they’d fish together or chat by the fire as they ate in his dreams.
But as he awoke, aroused and anxious, a new face had imprinted in his memory and Tighe was bereft without it. In his dream, Tighefeltsomeone lifting and cradling his jaw and his cheek. They stared at each other in the moonlight and Tighe was one with this man and belonged to him.
The man had a strong, handsome face and a loyal, honorable spirit and Tighe could hear the low, warm rumble of his voice. It soothed Tighe and helovedthe way this man cared so deeply about what was right and wanted to serve and protect the same things he cherished.
This was a man of the woodsandof the outside world and he was searching for Tighe. Calling to him.
Tighe reflected on the dream as he ate pawpaw and wild blackberries on the shore of a lake, then stripped and went fora short swim before setting out. He recognized the stream from the dream and predicted that it would be four or five days of difficult hiking to get there.
Would the man from the dream be waiting for him?
There was no way of knowing if he was even real but there was a strong pull and Tighe heard the man’s voice, calling his name and telling him to come. His urgency fed Tighe’s as he gathered his belongings and headed south on the Trail. He knew his old map like he knew the lines on his hands, yet Tighe stopped and studied it every quarter mile, it seemed. He was unusually impatient, needing to be absolutely sure he was headed in the right direction and recalculating the time and distance countless times.
He came across a couple later in the afternoon after making his way down a steep, sloping section of trail. The young man had sprained his ankle and the woman was in distress because her “smart” phone wasn’t working, due to a satellite failure or some other issue Tighe couldn’t comprehend. She was older and was obviously a seasoned hiker and had chosen an easier path for them, but had missed an earlier split in the trail and was lost.
“No worries!” Tighe told them and immediately began searching for sticks for a splint.
It was his favorite outsider expression: no worries! What better motto or way to signal your intentions to strangers? For Tighe, life was generally free of worries and he enjoyed those opportunities where he could relieve a fellow hiker of their worries and make their time on the Trail more fulfilling.
They were able to support and bind the bruised and swollen ankle with some strips of fabric taken from the younger man’s flannel shirt and Tighe found a strong stick for him to lean on. The three of them made their way down to a ranger station and the couple was taken the rest of the way on ATVs. This time,Tighe left them at the ranger station and quickly moved on before anyone could make a big deal about it.
A few weeks earlier, Tighe had come upon a lone hiker who had gotten himself intorealtrouble. The man had lost his footing on a narrow trail on the side of a steep ridge and had slipped and tumbled hundreds of feet, causing a slide and wedging himself between two boulders. He’d been there for close to a day and was in dehydrated agony when Tighe found him, having broken his leg and several ribs.
Tighe was able to move the man and stabilize him, then he used the man’s tent and rucksack to fashion a stretcher for him. It took a few days, but Tighe was able to push and pull it until they were spotted by searchers. Then, matters took a treacherous turn for Tighe.
He’d fainted at the sound of the helicopter so they assumed that he was also in need of care and was taken as well. He woke up screaming and swinging and had to be sedated. Thankfully, one medic realized that Tighe had never flown before and he was handled like a heroic infant until he was fully conscious again. Someone had guessed that Tighe was Amish and a reporter from a newspaper had asked if he had been shunned.
That was close enough for Tighe and it had worked. He was quickly released and givenwalkingdirections back to the Trail. Having read about the Amish, Tighe certainly appreciated their ambivalence towards automobiles and technology and was happy to let people assume, as opposed to explaining what an Ossor was. The helicopter ride had terrified Tighe and he was sure the fear alone would kill him. But the hard, sterile hospital, with all its bright, artificial lights and nose-burning odors had been the exact opposite of the forest and Tighe never wanted to see it again.
He had been happy to help and was glad the man would make a full recovery, but Tighe vowed to never get that close tocivilization again if he could help it. That didn’t stop him from caring for his fellow hikers, though, and he was pleased that the couple was in capable hands and would make the rest of their journey safely.
His pockets and bags were full of foraged berries, nuts, greens, and mushrooms by the time the sun was setting so Tighe built a fire by another lake and made a rain shelter with his tarp. A pair of hikers came upon him and Tighe invited them to share his fire. In return, they shared a cup of tea with Tighe—a rare pleasure!—and told him about their occupations and their homes in the city.
“Oh, no! Don’t do that!” Tighe tapped his lips and shook his head when one of the men, Brad, began to whistle. “There’s no telling what you’ll summon if you whistle or sing while you’re in these mountains. And if you should hear any whistling or someone calling your name, don’t you dare answer.”
