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be.”
    “I was going to track and kill the Loner. Da would have done
it right away, but I couldn’t.” Caitrin made the confession all in one breath.
    “Ah, child. You never told me you struggled with your
heritage.”
    “I was a disappointment to Da. I can track, I have a little
bit of the Sense…but I can’t kill my catch.”
    “You were never a disappointment to your father.” The
pure conviction in Iris’ voice nearly convinced her in turn. “Listen to me,
young Caitrin Flint. Your da loved you for yourself.”
    “But he tried to change my mother, have her
werewolf-bitten.”
    “Which he did purely out of an overwhelming desire to see
her survive and raise her daughter to adulthood!”
    Caitrin winced. “That’s not fair,” she said for the second
time.
    “Life is not fair.” The words were tempered with a slight
smile.
    Cait looked away, knowing the old witch was right. “What is
the potion for?”
    “To help you see clearly, child. I must be honest with
you—the potion is designed for witches who can see the supernatural by means of
their third eye. Its effects on you may not be so clear-cut. You will need to
use all your senses, paranormal or otherwise, to resolve this situation.”
    “Should I drink it now?” Caitrin regarded the glass vial
dubiously. The viscous liquid within was a dull gray-green.
    “Yes.” Iris ladled a generous dollop of honey into Cait’s
teacup. “Here. The sweetness will help chase the taste away. It is not
pleasant.”
    Not pleasant was the biggest understatement Cait had
ever heard. She staggered, rasping for breath as the potion hit the back of her
throat, burning its way into her stomach where it sat like a chunk of lead. The
taste… ugh , rancid and acidic all at once, she nearly heaved it up again.
Blindly she groped for the honey, spooned it into her mouth.
    “Told you it was vile.” Iris whisked the empty vial away.
“Sit here and finish the honey.”
    “I should start home. It’s almost evening and I promised to
wake Eagan before dinner.”
    The witch snorted. “He’s a werewolf, child. They hardly
sleep. I can almost guarantee he’ll have been on your trail for the better part
of an hour.”
    Cait barely hid her shiver of anticipation. She didn’t think
she would mind meeting Eagan on her way back. Just how skilful was the werewolf
at tracking? Would her distractions throw him off?
    Iris thrust a small package into her hands at the door.
“Here, child. Cheese, bread and apples. Have a safe journey home.”
    She hugged the witch. “Thank you, Iris.”
    The witch smiled. “Let me know your decision, Caitrin.
Whatever you choose, I will support you.”
    Iris was still watching as Caitrin reached the top of the
hill. She turned and waved, clutching the package of food away from the
collies’ interested snouts, then set off downhill.
    This time she was able to cross the beck without wetting her
feet, hopping from stone to stone as the dogs splashed through. She frowned
slightly, wondering if Eagan really was awake and following her.
    A single suspicious woof from Frost was all the warning she
received before she came upon the figure in the rapidly falling dark. At first
she thought he was Eagan, standing there waiting in the road. That same involuntary
lust rose hot and deep, more intense than her initial reaction now that her
body was more experienced.
    Arousal was immediately tempered by fear as the man in the
road took a step toward her. He was not Eagan. And he had a subtle wrongness
about him.
    “A beautiful young woman, all alone in the wilderness.”
    “I do not have time to stand chatting with strangers,
especially one to whom I have not been properly introduced,” Caitrin informed
him. Some small part of her hoped he would listen to reason, take a cue from
her rude politeness and leave.
    “My name is Delaney Coburn, wee lass. Now we are no longer
strangers, you see.”
    He came toward her. So did the lust. “Ahh, now I see why
Eagan