by Nina Croft
“Half werewolf,” Caleb replied.
“Hmm, I know. Which is one of the reasons I’m here. Sorry I missed the wedding. That bastard Sardi had me all tied up. I was freed when you killed him—good job, by the way—but I had a few things to do first. Anyway, I’m here now, and I’ve brought you both presents.”
She reached inside her tunic, pulled out a wriggling little body, and handed it to Regan.
“It’s a puppy,” she said. “To replace your hounds,” she added when Regan remained silent.
Regan studied the thing in her hands. Tiny and white, with a pink bow on the top of its head, and small, beady black eyes that stared right back.
“It’s a poodle,” she said, not even attempting to keep the horror from her voice. Caleb snorted, and she turned to him with narrowed eyes, daring him to make a comment.
“Yes, well,” her mother replied, “I thought about replacing the hellhounds, but I saw this and—”
“Thought of me—wow, thanks.” The puppy swiped a warm wet tongue over her fingers, and Regan drew it close against her breast. It was really quite sweet.
“Have you got one for Caleb as well?” she asked.
“No. I have something else for him.”
She turned and gestured toward the forest. At first, Regan saw nothing, then a small, brown bird flew down from a low branch and settled on the ground at the edge of the trees. Regan raised an eyebrow. She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again as the bird vanished, and a woman stood in its place. Tall and slender, with silver-blond hair hanging down to her waist, and sky-blue eyes. The same eyes as her son.
Next to her, Caleb’s whole body went rigid, his hand tightened in hers, and she glanced away from the woman to look at him. He was staring, a hungry, hopeful look in his eyes.
She squeezed his hand once, then tugged free. Placing her palm in the small of his back, she pushed gently.
“Go,” she whispered.
Caleb took a tentative step forward, then another until he was running toward the woman.
Regan glanced at her mother, who was standing, a small, self-satisfied smile curling her lips. “How did you find her?” Regan asked.
The Morrigan shrugged. “She was never lost. She just needed time to heal.”
Regan turned back to watch as Caleb came to an abrupt halt in front of the woman. Tension radiated from every cell of his body. Slowly he stretched out a hand, and Regan held her breath. Please.
And finally, his mother smiled and took his hand.
-The End-
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About the Author
Growing up, Nina Croft spent her time dreaming of faraway sunnier places and ponies. When she discovered both, and much more, could be found between the covers of a book, her life changed forever.
Later, she headed south, picked up a husband on the way, and together they discovered a love of travel and a dislike of 9-5 work. Eventually they stumbled upon the small almond farm in Spain they now call home.
Nina spends her days reading, writing and riding under the blue Spanish skies—sunshine and ponies. Proof that dreams can come true if you want them enough.
www.ninacroft.com
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Daughters of the Morrigan
Copyright © 2019 by Nina Croft
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author or publisher except for the use of brief quotations in critical articles or reviews.
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This is a work of fiction. Names, places, businesses, characters and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, actual events or locales is purely coincidental.
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