The Pillars of the World

by Anne Bishop

  “I was hoping we would meet again,” Morag said. “I brought someone who has been waiting to see you.”

  She saw the apprehension in Ari’s face and the tension in Neall’s before she turned toward the woods and gestured.

  Neall let out a strangled cry as a shadow hound burst out of the woods, racing straight for Ari. But Ari opened her arms and shouted, “Merle!”

  Neall shouted, “Don’t jump!”

  Merle slid to a stop, tucked his tail between his legs, and cowered next to Morag, looking at the man with eyes that had never lost their sadness.

  Neall dropped to one knee and held out his hand for Merle to sniff.

  “Neall,” Ari said, “don’t scold him so. He’s still a puppy.”

  “He’s not a puppy,” Neall said, petting Merle until the hound relaxed and began to wag his tail. “You’ve grown into a fine, strong, big lad, haven’t you? And you’re not really a puppy anymore. You’re a young hound.” The tail wagged harder. “And that’s why you can’t jump on Ari.”

  Merle looked at Ari and whined.

  Ari knelt beside Neall and wrapped her arms around Merle.

  Neall looked up at Morag, and said quietly, “Thank you. We had wondered what happened to him after Ahern . . .” He cleared his throat. “Glenn did remember him and went back after leaving the farm, but the pup was already gone.”

  When Merle calmed down enough to let Ari get to her feet, Morag said, “I also brought three of the journals that belonged to your family. Perhaps I shouldn’t have taken them, but I thought you would like to have your grandmother’s journal and a couple of the others that would trace some of your family’s history.”

  “Thank you, Morag. I would like to have them.”

  “Where are you staying?” Neall asked, some change in his eyes making Morag wonder just what the young Lord of the Woods was seeing.

  “Oh . . . I’m staying with Ashk for a few days.”

  “You could stay with us,” Ari said quietly.

  “But if you do,” Neall added, “you’ll have to hoe your share of the garden.”

  “Neall,” Ari hissed. “You don’t make a guest work for her supper.”

  “She’s not a guest,” he replied. “She’s Clan.”

  Something jolted through Morag, as if something painful inside her had broken and had to hurt before it could heal.

  Will you walk away from this, Morag? The Clans shun you now, and you’ve made enemies among your own kind. And this was why you made those choices. So that they could be here in this place, with the rich life ahead of them. And now they’re offering to share that life. They’re offering to be family in a way your own ceased to be since you became the Gatherer. Will you walk away?

  “I don’t know how to weed a garden,” Morag said.

  Neall grinned. “Not to worry. I’ll teach you.”

  Ari poked Neall in the ribs. “Behave.” She held out her hand.

  Morag hesitated a moment before slipping her hand into Ari’s.

  Ari smiled at her. “Come in and be welcome, Morag.”