The Protectors war

"Through darkened wood and shadowed path

Hunter of the Forest, by your side

Lady of the Stars, fold you in her wings

So mote it be!"

Then: "I'll put the soup back on to keep hot."

"Thanks, luv," he said.

He gave her another kiss, longer this time, nodded to his children, then stuffed the meat into his mouth as he turned to the door, dogs eager at his heels.

There were tendrils of mist outside, thickening even as he watched. Which would combine with the darkness to make tracking through the woods a total joy:

Could be worse, he thought, chewing on the savory slice. Could be raining.

Juniper perched on her carved oak and walnut chair cross-legged and made the fiddle sing, swinging into the quick jaunty beat of "Mi ni Nollage," with the bodhran and the flute accompanying her, and a guitar backing up her flourishes, and the sweet wild tones of the uillea

Lanterns and candles lit the ground floor of what had been her great-uncle's lodge and her home, before they rebuilt it and added the upper story and loft; now it was one great high-ceilinged chamber a hundred and twenty-five feet by thirty, surrounded by verandas on three sides and with doors to the new kitchens flanking the hearth in the middle of the north face. The walls were packed with people in their festival best, and more hung through the windows, leaving an oval clear in the middle of the room; all the adults and adolescents who lived in Dun Juniper were making merry tonight, plus many guests from other parts of the Clan's holdings, and a few from outside it. Cedar-wood logs crackled in the big stone fireplace, scenting the air.

The last set had been youngsters doing a lively jig-Chuck and Judy Barstow's adoptees, Aoife and Daniel and Sanjay, plus their friends, all in their late teens and enthusiastic. This beat was faster and more complex, though; she looked around the room as she fiddled, to see who'd attempt it.

It's changed a good deal and no mistake.

The logs of the walls had been smoothed and carved in colored ru

Eyes shone in the light of pastel candles and lamps set in wrought-iron brackets, hung tonight with ribbons in the same colors, plus baskets of colored eggs. Wreaths of flowers were on many heads, and woven-straw crosses hung from the ceiling-equal-armed, Brigid's crosses, for the Wheel of the Sun. A shout of laughter rose as the Jack-in-the-Green came prancing through. That was young Dave Trent, although you weren't supposed to remember his name tonight; he wore a tight green body stocking sewn all over with vines and leaves, a snub-nosed gri

The tables had been taken out with the last of supper, but the doors to the kitchens were still pulled back, and trays came out laden with pastries shaped like rabbits with raisins for eyes, dried-fruit confection and slices of cake, along with mugs of herb-flavored mead and De

I'd be guessing we're going to have a fine crop of new Mackenzies come Yule: Well, it is a fertility festival, is it not? she thought with a wide grin. The young God rises ready and randy to wed the Maiden!

"Well, come on, you cowards!" she called to them all. "The music's for dancing to, isn't it? We're tapping our feet on the earth to waken Her from sleep!"

Happy shouts came through the wide-open front doors as someone leapt over one of the fires for luck; the night was cool, but the body heat and the blaze on the hearth and the lanterns kept it warm enough in the hall that the breeze from outdoors was welcome. She heard the stepping of feet in time to the music, scuffing on the ground and tapping up the stairs and over the floorboards of the veranda, and cried greeting with the rest as Astrid and Eilir burst through the door and out into the open space, making someone taking a shortcut to the jakes dodge aside.

They were both in kilts and singlets and light dancing shoes with jeweled buckles, their hair done up in braids under the feathered Scots bo

Ah, the Dance of the Spears, Juniper thought as they went across the floor in file, their feet flashing in unison, twirling the long poles like batons in blurring arcs, left hand on hip:

Sweet Goddess! she realized, almost but not quite startled enough to lose the beat; then she didn't dare alter a note.

Those weren't props; they were real battle spears, seven feet of stout ashwood and sharp-edged steel, as deadly in reality as the legendary Gae Bulg of the Sedanta was in story. One slip-or even one bad stroke of her own fiddle bow throwing the dancers off their stride The tune went faster and faster, and they switched to a face-to-face posture; mock-combat, synched to the rhythm, and a ting! as steel met steel and crack! as wood met wood, leaping, whirling, feet blurring as fast as the silver arcs of the spearheads. Across the room her eyes met the wide, appalled and unbelieving gaze of Chuck Barstow, who'd practiced with edged weapons for years before the Change and every day after it. The crowd gasped; now the two were whirling the spears wrist-over-wrist like quarterstaves as they danced, moving them in huge figure eights and then leaping into the air and letting the momentum pirouette them completely around one last time, kilts flying up to show the strong slender thighs. The spears slowed as they each went down on one knee facing Juniper, the polished heads out and nearly touching the floor as the music crashed to its finish.

The two young faces gri

– and stood, arms around each other's shoulders, free arms waving as they turned to take the applause. Rudi dashed out to hug his sister, and the two of them grabbed him and tossed him up between them, throwing him nearly to the ceiling.

A sudden pang took her heart as she looked at them; could life offer them better than this moment? Eilir her heart, and Astrid who she loved nearly as well.

Certainly there's more and better; they're at the springtide of their lives, she thought. Loves and children of their own, and the wisdom of age, and then the Summerlands:

Though there were likely to be problems there. They weren't lovers, as many assumed-in fact, they found the thought inexpressibly fu

It would be easier if they were, Juniper thought. They're everything but that to each other, which leaves little enough room for a man-or at least a man you'd want.