A knock resounds on the door, echoing off the wooden walls and floors.
“Brádach,” the old women whispers with relief. She rushes across the room, unbolts the door, and swings it wide.
His head swings from side to side in front of her, no body attached.
The old woman gasps and stumbles backwards into a chair.
The girl pulls the head away to reveal herself to the old woman, a wicked smile tugging at her pale lips. “Evenin’ Sorcha.” She tosses the head so it rolls across the wood and bumps into the old woman’s feet.
Sorcha recoils, her eyes bouncing from the head to the girl before her. “Flann,” she gasps.
“Oh! So ya do remember me,” the girl responds in a sweet, joyful voice. She steps into the house, tipping her head to one side. Her red curls tumble down one side of her body, extending all the way to her hip. “And here I tought ya might forgotten ‘bout yer best friend after ya betrayed her.” Darkness sweeps the sweetness from her voice, replacing only bitter anger.
“Flann, but how-”
“-how’m I alive? How’m I not permanently a bear?” She glares at the old woman. “By sheer luck I happened to be bating in de moon pools when ya paid yer debt wit mai family’s blood,” she growls. “Guess it protected me from yer treachery. Mamaí always told me never to trust a wolf!”
“Flann, I’m so sorry. I never-”
Flann holds up her hand to silence the woman. “Save it, Sorcha. Yer words are wortless to me now, but yer blood…” The wicked smile returns. “Yer blood is all de apology I need.”