“That is not the ancient way,” Fionn claimed with the air of a man having made an unassailable point.
“Says who? We have lost many of the ancient ways, no matter how hard we have tried to keep true to them.”
“That is not the way of the Highlander, either.”
Bryant could hardly argue that point. The clans kept to themselves, developing ties with only a few others for the purposes of trade and waging war. But he knew he was right.
“If our people want to find their true mates, they must be open to mating outside their pack,” he reiterated.
“A man does not need his true mate to live a life blessed by the Creator.”
Bryant opened his mouth to argue, but realized that doing so might be seen as denigrating the life of the man he hoped to make his father-by-marriage. He snapped his mouth shut.
“Aye, what you say is true, but if we are to continue into the future, we must have more children,” Donnach inserted. “Too many matings are not blessed by children.”
It was Fionn’s turn to open his mouth and then close it without uttering a word of argument. For Donnach’s words were true as well.
While the clans around them grew, the Chrechte’s numbers fluctuated, but did not increase. Some packs had undeniably shrunk. There were rumors that a pack to the south had grown to numbers unprecedented, but none could confirm the MacLeod pack’s true size, nor that of their clan in actual fact.
“There must be more children among the Éan than the Faol,” Fionn said disagreeably.
Bryant did not believe him and the way Una shook her head said she denied the words as well. “Your numbers are not so great.”
“Because we lose our brethren every year to the murderous Faol.”
“And we all lose to war.”
“We are not at war with the Faol.”
“I am glad to hear you say that,” Bryant said with a smile.
Fionn met the smile with his customary scowl. “Ye are still at war with us and have been for generation after generation.”
“We are not at war, but there are the murderous among us. I will not deny it.”
“Ye hardly can if you would speak the truth.”
“But not all wolves are filled with the hate that spurs these men.”
“So you say.”
“So I say since I am one of the Faol who would die to protect the Éan.” Bryant had been raised to believe it was his calling to somehow bring his feathered brethren back into the Chrechte fold.
The discovery of the Éan’s tribe had been the confirmation he and his family needed that the time to do so had come.
“Neither I, nor any of the soldiers who traveled here with me, would kill our Chrechte brethren for no more reason than that their animal takes a different form from our own.”
“If that is true, you are an exception.”
“Nay. These blackguards who work in secret to destroy, they are the anomaly among the Faol.”
“You would have me believe your nature is not violent?” Fionn sneered at the deer hide Bryant had continued to work on.
“We are predators. We hunt. As do your people, but we hunt with a purpose, not for sport.”
“The purpose of the Faol is to see the eradication of the Éan.”
“Nay!” Bryant’s usual good nature slipped and the warrior in him came to the fore. “You accuse what you do not know and without cause.”