Read Hounded for Free Online Page B

of the Tuatha Dé Danann alive, though he was not particularly bright. He had been their leader for a few decades, but eventually he was replaced for being more sympathetic to the monstrous race of the Fomorians than to his own people. He was a god of agriculture and had escaped death at Lugh’s hands long ago by promising to share all he knew. The only reason he had not been killed since then was because he was husband to Brighid, and no one wished to risk her wrath. Her magical powers were unmatched, save perhaps by the Morrigan.
    » Aenghus Óg has tempted him with something or other, « Flidais said with a dismissive gesture. » Bres acts only when it is in his interest to do so. «
    » I understand that. But why send Bres? Is he to kill me? «
    » I do not know. He certainly cannot be coming to outwit you. Truthfully, Druid, I hope the two of you do come to blows and you defeat him. He does not respect the forest as he should. «
    I offered no response, and Flidais seemed content to let me consider what she had said. She sipped her smoothie and reached down to give Oberon a friendly scratch behind the ears. His tail sprang to life and quickly thumped against the legs of our chairs. I could hear him begin to tell her of the sport to be had at Papago Park, and I smiled at the way he always kept his goals firmly in mind—the mark of a true hunter.
    › There are desert bighorn sheep in the hills there. Have you ever hunted them? ‹
    Flidais told him no, she had never hunted sheep at all. They were herd animals that offered no sport.
    › These are not regular sheep. They are larger, they are brown, and they move very fast among the rocks. We have yet to corner one, though we have tried only a few times. I always enjoy the hunt anyway. ‹
    » Does your hound jest with me, Atticus? « Flidais raised her eyes to mine, and a note of contempt crept into her voice. » You were unable to bring down a sheep? «
    » Oberon never jests about hunting, « I said. » Desert bighorns are nothing like the sheep you are used to. They are significant game, especially in the Papago Hills. Treacherous rocks there. «
    » Why have I never heard of these creatures? «
    I shrugged. » They are native to this area. There are several desert creatures you would probably enjoy hunting here. «
    Flidais sat back in her chair, frowning, and took another sip of her smoothie as if it were an elixir to cure cognitive dissonance. She stared for a few moments at the low-hanging branches of my mesquite tree, which were swaying gently in a whisper of desert wind. Then, without warning, her face exploded in a smile and she laughed in delight—I would almost call it a giggle, but that would be beneath the dignity of a goddess.
    » Something new! « she gushed. » Do you know how long it has been since I have hunted anything new? Why, it has been centuries, Druid, millennia even! «
    I raised my glass. » To novelty, « I said. It was a highly prized commodity amongst the long-lived. She clinked her glass against mine, and we drank contentedly and shared silence for a while, until she asked when we could begin the hunt.
    » Not until a few hours after nightfall, « I said. » We must wait for the park to close and the mortals to retire for the night. «
    Flidais arched an eyebrow at me. » And how shall we spend the intervening hours, Atticus? «
    » You are my guest. We may spend it however you wish. «
    Her eyes appraised me and I pretended not to notice, keeping my gaze locked on my bicycle still lying in the street. » You appear to be in the summertime of youth, « she said.
    » My thanks. You look well as always. «
    » I am curious to discover if you still have the endurance of the Fianna or if you are hiding a decrepitude and softness most unbecoming a Celt. «
    I stood up and offered her my right hand. » My left arm was injured earlier this afternoon and is still not fully healed. However, if you will follow me and assist in mending it, I will do