What thoughts did he want to avoid?
“I have some memories that used to be... persistent.” Ronan shook his head. “It’s not important. Now, let’s go through those moves again.”
***
THEGHOSTWOOD WAS QUIET.
Only the faint rustling of the leaves greeted them as they entered the forest. Clía thought she knew quiet—she often preferred it. But this silence was different.
The hair on the back of her neck rose.
They kept moving.
They had left their horses behind at the inn in favor of walking—Ronan had insisted it would be safer. As they traversed deeper into the trees, they abandoned the soft light of morning behind them. Footsteps crunched against the ground as they made their way through fog and mist, under the shadows of the thick branches above. Only the faintest glimmers of sunbeams could find their way to them.
No one spoke. Clía kept her place in the middle of the group, Domhnall beside her. Ronan and Niamh were at the lead, while Kían and Ó Dálaigh took the rear. Despite being surrounded by well-trained warriors, she kept her hand on the sword at her hip.
There were no maps of the Ghostwood. No trails to follow or markers to find. They traveled blindly, on instinct alone.
Clía eyed the moss-covered trunks around her, waiting forsomething. She wasn’t alone in anticipation. Everyone seemed more guarded. On edge.
It wasn’t until the dim light faded, and the realization that dusk was falling hit her, that a piercing noise broke through the trees. A wail in the woods.
Everyone froze.
She heard a whisper. Kían. “A bean sídhe?” Their voice was unusually serious.
“It could be some kind of animal,” Niamh replied.
But they heard it again. A high-pitched, keening wail. Clía shivered as the noise ran through her body. She could hear the despair in it. The warning.
She had heard stories of the bean sídhe her whole life. One of the many types of sídhe, creatures from the Otherworld. They would appear before unsuspecting people as women dressed in cloaks of white or gray. They would find you in forests, on the shore, or even in your own home.
If you saw one—or if you heard their lamenting screams—it meant someone would die.
A loved one. A family member.
Someone you would mourn.
A third wail cut through them.
If this was truly a bean sídhe, then someone here would lose someone they loved. Soon.
“Let’s keep moving,” Ronan said, urging them all out of their thoughts. “The next clearing we find, we make camp for the night.”
No one argued with him.
***
“I’LL TAKE FIRST WATCH. DOMHNALL, YOU’RE WITH ME. After that, Kían and Clía, then Niamh and I,” Ronan said, rolling out his pack in the large glade.
Clía couldn’t help but feel jealous of Ó Dálaigh, who had the luxury of sleeping through the night since he was only here to supervise.
“Two watches?” She looked at Ronan. “You need rest too.”
“And I’ll get it. But I’m not leaving anyone to handle a watch on their own. We don’t know what’s in these woods.” He turned to the rest of the group. “No tents. If we need to move fast at any point, they’d only slow us down.”
His words brooked no argument.
