Conall was startled, and flattered too, to find that she had addressed that question to him. Her slanted eyes were still peering intently at him through her long lashes, as she caressed the surface of her own tankard with slim fingers.

‘Well, lady, old man Tyrone, lady silverface may have been round when I hunted the wolf down, but it was none of her changelings that I killed. Mayhap it was a mere coincidence that the wolf hunted like a Were.’

‘How sure are you of that?’ The lady’s brow furrowed slightly as she continued to stroke her tankard.

‘Conall’s been huntin’ for th’ village since he grew old ‘nough to hold a bow, miss,’ Tyrone laughed and contributed even before Conall could speak. ‘If we don’t trust his judgement, I don’t know who else’s we should!’

The lady fell into silent brooding then, her eyes slightly dulled in contemplation.

‘So what is your name, lady?’ Conall felt bold enough to ask. ‘It’s not fair that you know mine and not I yours.’

She only smiled, tossing frost-white hair back over her own shoulders. ‘Nothing in this world is fair, Conall Bounty Hunter.’

At the same time as he tried to cover up for his disappointment, Conall could not help a thrill running through him at the way this mysterious girl said his name. The thrill intensified into a near shiver as the lady’s fingers now lifted away from her tankard and reached out to touch the large fur wrapping that was on Conall’s shoulders.

She traced a peculiar whorl of grey fur in the middle of the fur wrapping. A strange expression clouded her amber eyes. She murmured, ‘Is this…?’

‘Yes. It came from Tyrone’s wolf.’ Conall tried to breathe the words out as gently as he could, not daring to move in case he scared her away. Her fingers’ exploration was as tentative as a shy deer, running lightly through the long hair of the white fur, the white a colour so like her own hair.

Her fingers lingered at the grey knot of fur for a moment more, then fell away reluctantly, granting Conall the ability to inhale normally again.

She sat in Tyrone’s drinking room for a couple of hours more, quietly listening to and watching Conall, Tyrone, the small brief brawl that died down as quickly as it broke out… but most of all, she watched Conall.

The level in her tankard fell perhaps an inch or so, but no more; Conall never did see her partake of it.

She still did not tell Conall her name, nor did she introduce herself voluntarily, though she made polite conversation willingly enough with Conall when he spoke to her. Yes, she was native to hereabouts, and yes, she didn’t spend much time around the El Nath town. Yes, she had family here… only a father, actually; she was about to go to her family home after this evening.

And no, she wouldn’t like another tankard of stronger ale.

As the evening skies darkened outside the tavern’s windows, the lady made to leave. Remembering she mentioned a dwelling in the forests, Conall sprang to his feet and offered to escort her home.

She accepted his offer with a sideways smile on her lips, and Conall felt his heart do a little flip of triumph.

And now they were riding through the frozen woods, the lady a comfortable warmth at Conall’s back, her fingers clutching at his shoulders lightly to keep her balance behind him in the hog’s saddle.

It was starting to snow again. White snowflakes spiralled slowly downwards, forsaken fragments of the dark grey skies cast down to be left at the mercy of the playful gusts of wind that buffeted them to and fro.

Silverface rose in the skies, a pale and malevolent circle of light.

A low throaty rumble that suggested barely brindled impatience. The blinding white of the snow seemed to move, a blurred patch of frost smoothly detaching itself to slink deeper into the woods.

‘There.’ She pointed to a thin trail that split off the well-worn forest path, already almost hidden by the fresh snowfall. The hog snorted and snuffled, tugging unhappily at the reins.

Conall frowned, agreeing with his mount’s reaction. He twisted around to take a good look at his passenger. ‘Then it is a good thing that you accepted my offer as an escort, lady. There are many of silverface’s changelings that make their lair in that part of the woods and hunt their prey at night.’

She smiled, a mesmerising curve of her full lips. ‘My father did teach me means to deal with any changelings that would challenge me. Your concern is touching however, Conall Bounty Hunter.’

Conall could not help a wide answering smile. ‘Please, lady. Just Conall will do.’

‘Conall.’ The single word from her lips sounded impossibly enthralling. ‘Can I ask a gift, Conall?’

‘Anything you wish, Lady,’ Conall answered breathlessly, trying to busy himself with his hog’s reins.

‘Can I have this?’ Her slim fingers lighted reverently on the fur wrap on his shoulders.

‘This bulky thing?’ Conall frowned, then gave a loud chuckle. ‘I’m afraid not, Lady. I’ve unfortunately grown rather attached to this.’

‘Ah.’ Her disappointment was plain.

‘Lady, if you wish a gift, I could get you something more suitable for you. Soft Hector leather gloves, perhaps, or a warm cape of Pepe down…?’

She did not answer, only gently stroked Conall at the collar where the strange grey whorl was in the fur. He suppressed a shiver, and turned his eyes back to the trail before them.

The shadows in the woods shifted too, as lady silverface rose higher still, her light casting deeper shadows amongst the trees.

And in the deepening shadows, an amber eye gleamed.

——————-
This is a completed series.

Previous and following chapters:
(1) – Waxing
(2) – Fullmoon
(3) – Waning