Wolf at Her Door: BBW Paranormal Romance (6 page)

"Then when I lead the clan, I'll end this for good," Bran said. "There will be no more children, no more births for Clan MacCulloch. This line ends with me."

I stepped back and knocked into a butter churn. In my head, I clutched at my stomach, trying to protect the unborn babe inside of me.
What was he saying? No children?

The sound of boots along the dirt floor of the barn reminded me I wasn't safe. Coming to Bran was a bad idea. No matter how much I loved him, I would do anything to keep my baby safe. Even if that meant leaving.

My hind paws dug into the dirt as they pushed me forward and away from the barn. Bran's scent filled me and I turned quickly to see him stepping out of the barn. The tartan of his kilt reminded me that we weren't meant to be together.

I ran even faster. I had to reach the trees. Once I was there, I could safely hide until...

Until what? Bran would go to my village to find me, and they would know that I had brought them shame. I knew better than to have anything to do with someone from Clan MacCulloch. I should have never given him my heart.

Entering the trees, I made a series of quick turns to make sure he couldn't follow me and then dove under a low-lying tree near my clothing. Huddling in a corner covered in dirt and leaves, I changed back to human form.

Biting my lip, I fought the tears and cries that wanted to escape me. Bran was so close, but he wouldn't enter the woods. He knew he would never find me in them.

I reached out and yanked my wool tunic out of its hiding place and held it to me like a blanket. The tears finally spilled from my eyes as I gently rocked myself, trying to find some comfort.

I couldn't think straight. The only words I knew for certain were ones that said my beloved didn't want what I had growing inside me. I refused to bring shame to my father and I refused to return to a man who wouldn't accept my child. Our child.

Pushing a deep breath out of my mouth, I felt stronger. I was strong. It didn't matter that I was a woman. I would raise my child and care for him any way I could. Just as my father didn't need a woman's help, I didn't need a man's. The woods had always been kind to me and if I was lucky, they would help me now when I needed it most.

Gathering my courage, I pulled my shift on and went further into the woods. The darkness and uneven terrain would have been easier to cross as a wolf, but I didn't want to draw any more attention to myself. With each change, my scent grew. It was part of being a shifter none of us could control. I knew Bran was close and if he caught my scent, he would follow me.

I carefully followed the trees I used as markers in the woods. They looked different at night, but I knew they would bring me to the small clearing where Bran found me following the deer.

As I got closer to the clearing, I heard a strange noise that suddenly stopped. I stood still, standing beside a nearby tree, and listened carefully as I held my breath. I didn't know who or what else could be in the woods, but I prayed it wouldn't put me in danger.

I moved closer to the large tree and leaned against it, hoping to get some rest. The sound I heard appeared again. It started as barely a breeze and then grew louder. It was music, but it was unlike anything I had ever heard before.

The music called to me, begging me to join. I followed the sound and it brought me closer to the clearing. Instead of being dark, the clearing was lit by tiny colorful lights. A deer sprang out from behind the tree.
 

Standing within reach was the largest deer I had ever seen. The deer was as tall as a horse and with its head and antlers held high above mine, it was just as impressive. Behind the deer, the tiny lights danced and weaved. The deer lowered its head and shoulders as if bowing to me before it entered the clearing.

I moved closer to the edge of the woods. Once the deer was away from the trees, its fur took on a silvery hue and became white. I gasped in surprise as I realized it was the white stag. I had to be dreaming, but never had I felt more awake.

There had always been tales about the woods, but I never really listened or believed them. I began to regret that. I searched my mind for stories about the white stag as I watched him prance with the lights, but all I could remember was that the white stag was a messenger from the Otherworld.

I sat on the cool ground and crossed my legs underneath me as I watched the stag dance with the lights. I had nowhere else to go.
There has to be a reason why I'm seeing this
, I thought.

One of the lights left the dance and turned in my direction. It grew as it moved closer to me, but I didn't feel any fear. The light became brighter as it grew and I covered my eyes, unable to look at it anymore.

When I opened my eyes again, a small, old woman stood in front of me. She was hunched over and was wearing a long white robe. She had kind, watery eyes that were a similar yellow to our shifter eyes but had a hint of green. Her skin was wrinkled and her cheeks were hollowed with age. She smiled at me as her bony hand disappeared into her robe.

As I stared at her, my eyes wide and curious, she pulled out a ball of red yarn from her pocket. She held it up to me between her hands and then fished the end out of it.

The yarn rose slightly into the air and spun slowly, unraveling the end until it landed at my feet.

Follow
.

I heard the word whispered, but the old woman's thin lips never moved. Behind her, the dance had stopped and the white stag nibbled on the grass. Looking around, I realized the sky had begun to lighten.
How long had I been sitting there?

Follow
.

The word was whispered again, but I knew I was only hearing it in my mind. The old woman stretched out a long finger and pointed at my stomach.

For him. Follow
.

I stood and looked down at the limp red thread lying on the grass. The woman started walking further towards the clearing, the ball of yarn still floating above one of her hands.
This has to be the strangest dream I've ever had
, I thought. But I knew it was real.

Tiny flutters began in my stomach and I put my hand over it to calm them, or him as the woman said. I didn't know what was going on. Should I follow her? If I didn't, where would I go? I ran to protect my baby, but I didn't know how.

Morning is near. Follow.

I stepped into the clearing, onto the red thread, and the earth dropped out from under me. I tried to scream as my arms flailed. I reached out into the darkness but there was nothing there, no ground, no sky, nothing to keep me in place. There was nothing to keep me from falling.

I tried to shift into my wolf, thinking it would better protect me. But nothing happened. I called to the wolf that existed within me, but it didn't respond.

Take the thread
.

Although I couldn't see her, I heard her whisper as clearly as before. The thread appeared in the emptiness and I leapt towards it, grabbing it with my hand.

A gust of wind whipped past me, forcing me to close my eyes. When I opened them, it was daylight and I was lying on a bed of green moss. I couldn't see very far because a low stone wall blocked my view.

There was a calm to the air. As I stood, I gasped at the openness of the land. Beyond the fence were rolling fields of heather. And just beyond them was a lake so clear it reflected the blue sky.

I heard a sound behind me and turned to find the old woman dressed in a loose grey tunic made of thick wool. She was sweeping the entryway of a cozy cottage with a thatched roof and stone walls. It reminded me of the home I had shared with my father.

As I approached, she looked up at me and smiled. Resting the broom against the wall, she motioned for me to come in.

It was a one-room cottage with a cot in the corner and a couple of wooden chairs and a table. A kettle hung over the fire and she used a hook to pull it out, then poured some of the hot liquid into a mug.

"Please sit," she said, her voice raspy as she spoke aloud for the first time. "You and your baby are safe here. This can be your home if you choose to stay."

She put the mug on the table next to a plate of bread and mutton. I clutched my stomach as it churned hungrily.

"I can't impose on you," I said. "I don't even know you."

"Please, Ainsley. You have to stay. It's my fault you're in this predicament."

"What are you talking about? How is any of this your fault?"

"My name is Gracelin Barrach. You might know me better as the Banshee of the Glen."

Chapter Ten

Ainsley

"The Banshee of the Glen is a myth," I said, my brow wrinkling with confusion.

"I wish it was. Alas, you being here is proof that it isn't. If it wasn't for me, you would be happy together with your Bran."

"What do you have to do with me and Bran?"

"I'm the reason you cannot be together. The MacCulloch clan is cursed, you see. And what has been cursed cannot be uncursed."

I felt anger growing inside me. What did she mean it was her fault? What did she have to do with Bran? There was nothing she could have done that would make him say the things I heard.

"You're crazy," I said, standing from the small wooden chair. "I think I'd best be going."

"I can help you return if that's your choice, but please hear me out first. I think once I explain, everything will become clear."

I crammed a piece of bread into my mouth as I looked into her eyes. They weren't the same color as they were in the clearing, but they were still strange. They seemed more youthful and were a bright green I remembered hearing only witches had.

Looking down at the table, I grabbed a piece of mutton and quickly ate it. I didn't have any other place to go, and it wasn't just about me anymore. I had to think about my child. I met her eyes once more and slowly nodded.

"I'll listen," I said as I sat down again.

"Excellent."

She cleared her throat and sat down on a chair facing the table. She pulled out a piece of tartan that I recognized as belonging to Clan MacCulloch with its navy and white plaid. Flipping the fabric over, she revealed a symbol made of basket weave knots with wolves facing each other.

"This piece of tartan is the only thing I have left of him," she said. "He was my one love, my everything, and he told me I was his, too. But he lied."

A mixture of anger and hurt crossed her face. Her green eyes suddenly flashed amber and I wondered if she was going to turn into a wolf, but instead her skin smoothed. Her cheeks filled with youthfulness and her hair darkened from white to a dark red. By the time she smiled again, Gracelin had changed from an old woman to a beautiful young one.

"I was a beauty," she said. "Men from clans far and wide came to ask my father for my hand in marriage, but he respected and loved me as his only daughter and knew I was in love with another. His name was Niall MacCulloch, an ancestor to your Bran. He had the dark wavy hair your Bran had but with eyes the color of night. Niall could have had any woman he wanted, but he said he wanted me.

"I was a fool. Niall was chief of the clan already and a brave fighter on top of it. Handsome didn't even begin to describe him. I think I was blinded by my emotions as many in their youth are.

"But I can't take all the blame," she continued. "I believed his lies, but he only wanted me carnally and once he got that, I meant nothing to him."

She stood, and her clothing hung from her. Not only had her face changed, but her body had, too. Gone was the shapeless body of the hag. It was replaced with the curves of a young woman. Tears filled her eyes and she turned away to look at the fire.

"You don't have to tell me anymore about him," I said. "He found another, didn't he?"

She nodded, and I could see she was too choked up to say the words. As she cried, I heard a faint sound I couldn't make out and strained to hear it.

My sister.

I felt bad for her, but I still didn't see what any of this had to do with Bran and I.

"I was angry," she whispered. "So very angry. I couldn't help it. I cursed him and by extension, his entire clan. I didn't know what I was doing though. I just wanted him to love me," she choked.

She kept her back to me as her shoulders shook. Her cries filled the cottage, and sadness crashed over me. I thought about Bran's words again and wondered what they meant.