Dawn frowned.
Cree understood without asking. “I feel the same with this snow. I do not want to linger here and be trapped for weeks. I miss Lizbeth’s hugs and Valan falling asleep in my arms, and I know they must miss Beast. They adore him as much as he does them.” His hand went to her rounded stomach. “Old Mary says it is another son that grows in you.” He chuckled. “Another brother for Lizbeth to command.”
Dawn tapped his chest and smiled.
“Lord, I hate to admit it, but you are right. My daughter is much like me… demanding and commanding.”
Dawn’s body shook with silent laughter.
They shared another honey cake, Dawn resting comfortably against Cree.
“I have given thought to what Flora said earlier about myths, and I wonder? Who would be the best to ask about ones specific to this area?” Cree said.
“The clan healer,” Flora said as she approached the table.
Cree noticed the difference in Flora from barely two days ago. There was more color to her face and her dark eyes were bright and alert. Her dark hair was well-groomed, braided and wrapped at the back of her head. As she healed, her lovely features were beginning to reveal themselves. But there was not a woman alive whose beauty inside and out could compare to his wife.
The light spark in Flora’s eyes had Cree saying, “You already asked the healer.”
Flora nodded, grinning. “I could not resist.”
Dawn smiled.
“I have a feeling you are much like my wife, you do as you please,” Cree said.
Flora spoke softly, just above a whisper. “You would be right, Lord Cree, which is why I do not wish to wed, unless of course, I find a love as pure and rare as yours and Lady Dawn’s.”
“You are right. Our love is pure and rare, and I am grateful for it every day,” Cree said. “Now tell me of these myths.”
Dawn shook her head, tapped her mouth, and pointed at Flora.
Cree scowled. “That’s right. You are not supposed to talk. I will send for Auda.”
“It will be a while. She was called to deliver a bairn,” Flora said, maintaining a soft whisper. “I am sure a hot brew and rest between tales will be all I need to keep my throat from worsening.”
Cree was not sure about that, but since he was eager to hear the myths, he did not argue.
Dawn, however, was not convinced that it was a wise thing to do.
Flora saw her skepticism. “I will keep it as brief as possible.”
Dawn doubted that, but in the end it was Flora’s choice, and she would not take that away from her. She nodded and was pleased when Cree ordered a servant to bring a jug of fresh, hot cider.
“There are two myths Auda related to me that I believe may prove helpful,” Flora said, “and I discovered you spoke of one of them, Lord Cree.”
“An old wise woman advised me of one,” Cree said, recalling Old Mary’s warning. “The myth was born out of a time of constant battle. Demons rose up out of a crack in the earth and captured innocent souls, young and old alike, to serve their evil needs. Who knows whether it is truth or tale?”
“I imagine it was born of some truth and grew with the telling of the history of foreign invaders on this land who took captives to serve them and were never seen again.”
Cree shook his head. “That myth would not fit our present situation.”
“But it does,” Flora argued, “if the reason for the abductions is for evil means then it is more demon than man who you search for.”
Cree did not want to think of those who had gone missing suffering at the hands of a person so crazed he was more demon than man. He had come across such men, and he believed they had no heart and definitely no soul, something others thought of him once until… he took hold of Dawn’s hand. She had changed everything.
“The other myth that might pertain to our problem?” Cree asked.
“A ghost who claims lives, hoping for a rebirth,” Flora said and seeing skepticism widen Cree’s eyes continued to explain. “Auda says it is a tale healers hear now and again when they are present at a death of someone who rants against dying. Women send their bairns to stay with a friend since it is a young soul they look to take.” She paused a moment to take a drink, her throat scratchy. “The women know to keep the door locked and let no one in or out for an hour or more, keeping the spirit lingering until it has no choice but to fade away. Herbs are often burned to speed the spirit’s end.”
“How could that possibly fit our present situation?” Cree argued. “Older men and women were taken. What good would old ones do to a ghost eager to be reborn?”