Caelin grinned up at her. “You never know, Mama. Maybe that is how he called me to him.”
Gemma brushed the hair from his forehead, then looked at Arne, who merely shrugged.
“How did he call to you, Caelin?” she asked carefully, not sure she wanted to know the answer.
Caelin frowned. “I heard them, in my head, and I went and found them.”
“Did you hear them making a noise?”
“Maybe, sort of. I don’t know. I just heard them in my head and followed the sound.”
“The cubs’ den was certainly well hidden,” Arne informed her. “And too far from the path for their noises to be heard. Perhaps he heard the mother before she died?”
“No, it was them I heard,” Caelin said. “When their mother died, they knew they needed someone to take care of them and they called to me.”
“Did you hear them when you went outside?”
“No, while I was still here. You were busy washing the blood off Arne and so I went to find them on my own. I knew I would find them.”
“And so you did, Caelin. I don’t know of anyone else who could have found these cubs nor cared for them so well.” Arne squatted beside him. “But remember they are wild creatures. You are right to think they won’t be able to come and live in a fort with you. Try not to get too attached. You have done well to save them, but in the future, perhaps sooner rather than later, you may need to let them go.”
Gemma watched as Caelin and Loki regarded each other solemnly. There was a connection. It would be visible to anyone who saw them together. She would need to warn him not to share this with others. His life was difficult enough as it was. Arne did not seem upset about it, but this was dangerous knowledge for anyone else to have about her son. “I understand,” Caelin said, and she wondered for a moment if he was talking to the cub or to Arne. “You are worried that I will be upset, but it’ll be fine. We will look after one another. I will enjoy their company while they are here. I wouldn’t want to hold them prisoner if they no longer wanted to stay.”
Tears sprang to Gemma’s eyes. Her son sounded so wise in that moment, mature beyond his years. She sighed and Arne looked over at her.
“What’s wrong?”
“This is yet another secret to keep,” she said, nodding towards Caelin.
“Try not to worry. A boy finding some wild cubs out on the moors is not in itself a secret needing to be kept.”
“No.”
For the rest of the afternoon, Arne and Caelin played with the cubs, and continued to feed them the oat milk and a small amount of broth.
Gemma turned the problem over and over in her head as she washed their clothes from the day before and hung them to dry by the fire, then made sure the shieling was clean and tidy. Caelin expected to go home, but she’d been taking them away. Arne was returning them to Kirkjaster and she had no idea what Tormod would decide. Caelin should have more control over his life. Was this all her fault? Had she already failed her son?
And yet Arne had reassured her that the very fact both of them were still alive showed not all her decisions so far had been wrong. Her mind kept returning to Caelin’s comment about enjoying the company of the cubs for as long as they were with him. Every so often she would catch Arne’s eye and he would smile at her. That small action always made her heart thud faster and she had to turn away before he noticed the way she blushed like a maiden.
Hours later, when she had finished preparing a meal for them to share, she caught him staring at her and this time she did not look away. His direct gaze seeming to promise her something — another night like the one before, perhaps? She wanted to ask him, hear what he had planned for the two of them, but with Caelin awake, she couldn’t.
She ladled food into bowls for each of them and set them at the table. When Arne came over to the table, he purposefully stood too close to her, then reached for her hand and squeezed it before sitting. Her breath caught, then she too sat, and when their eyes met, both of them smiled.
The evening seemed to drag as they waited for the time when Caelin was soundly asleep, but the cubs were restless and her son would not settle as long as one or both of them was awake.
Arne filled the time whittling a piece of wood as Gemma washed the dishes and put everything to rights once more in the shieling. He hovered as she finished then came and put his arms around her before kissing along her neck. He pulled her close and she loved the feel of him hard against her thighs, pleased that he was so much more confident than he had been the day before. She placed her hands over his and pushed her hips back, promising him more attention later when her son was asleep.
“Stop teasing me,” he whispered in her ear, then let her go. “I need to do something. I’ll get some more logs for the fire.”
She nodded and settled down beside the fire, watching until finally Caelin fell asleep. She listened to the steady rhythm of the axe for a while. Then it stopped, but Arne still didn’t come inside. He must have decided to collect some more branches. When the door opened and he stepped in, she expected him to be eagerly awaiting their time together. Instead, he looked worried.
“What’s wrong?”
He removed his leathers and hung them up, then checked on Caelin. Seeing the boy was asleep, he took her hand and pulled her to her feet. He threaded his fingers through her hair and sucked in a deep breath, his expression troubled.
“There are footprints in the snow. Near the edge of the woods. It looks like those of one, or at the most, two men.”
“Do you know when they were made?”
