Free Night of Wolves by David Dalglish

as together they walked back to Durham.

 
     
     
     
    6

     
     
    D aniel ate his breakfast in silence, speaking only to compliment the young woman who had prepared the meal. Amusingly enough, her husband beamed with pride at every word he spoke.
    “She’s a real cook, ain’t she?” said Henry, the husband. His wife, a portly lady with auburn hair, flushed and turned away.
    Daniel shifted in his seat. Beside him sat two more of his men, all three having slept on the floor of the farmer’s home. Compared to either the boat or the wild, it felt like the softest of beds.
    “Never knew oatmeal could taste so fine,” said Gregory.
    “We may have to stay longer,” Jon agreed.
    Pushing aside his half-full bowl, Daniel stood. The others fell silent.
    “Thank you,” he said, tilting his head to the couple. “I have business to discuss, so please, take no offense at my light appetite. The meal was fine, and it is a shame my stomach’s not set to enjoy it.”
    “Want us to come with?” Gregory asked.
    “Stay. Rest. I’ll talk with the paladins.”
    The two soldiers shrugged and continued eating.
    Daniel shivered as he stepped outside. Pulling his cloak tighter about him, he trudged toward Hangfield’s home. Daniel had never met the man, but his name had been on the formal request for aid. That, and when he’d spoken with the paladin Darius upon their arrival, he’d been told to meet them there come the morning.
    “You get some rest before we discuss this further,” the blue-eyed paladin had told him. Daniel tried to oblige, but his dreams had been full of yellow eyes, and he’d woken multiple times covered with sweat. For all the battles he’d seen, it’d been years since he’d bloodied his blade, and even longer since he’d expected to lose. The feeling was far from welcome.
    Damn old age, he thought. What he’d give to have his youthful feeling of invincibility back, if only for a little while.
    A pretty lass waited by the door, and she curtseyed to him as he approached.
    “Welcome,” she said, and he could tell she was trying her best to hide her nervousness.
    “Tell me you weren’t waiting out here in the chill just for me,” he said.
    Her gaze fluttered to the ground.
    “I was,” she said. “Father wishes his guests to feel welcome.”
    Daniel drew his sword, and her eyes widened. Flipping it about, he stabbed it into the dirt and kneeled before her.
    “It is I who should bow to a beauty like you,” he said, smiling. “And I who should be waiting in the cold for a greeting. Please gift me with your name.”
    It warmed his heart to see her giddy and breathless. She was on the cusp of womanhood, and maybe, just maybe, she would remember the honor shown to her and expect similar from the simple men of the village. She reminded him of his own daughter, who he’d lost to the bloody cough so many years before. The girl had the same green eyes. His heart panged at the remembrance.
    “Jessie,” she said.
    “Please, Jessie, escort an old man inside.”
    She took his offered hand.
    “You’re hardly old,” she insisted. “The hair on your head is not all gray.”
    “But there is gray in it,” Daniel said, opening the door. “And all it takes is a single faded hair to make a man realize how far his youth has fled.”
    Jessie didn’t know what to say, so she quietly led him to the dining room, where both paladins sat, a heavyset man with them.
    “Jeremy Hangfield?” he asked as Jessie released his arm.
    “I am,” said Jeremy. “I trust my daughter was polite in greeting you?”
    “Polite as she might be standing motionless in the autumn air.” He gestured to a chair. “May I sit?”
    Jeremy nodded, ignoring the rebuff. Daniel pulled the chair closer and made a show of sitting down. All the while, he scanned the three men, exaggerating his movements and grunts to buy time. Jeremy had noble blood in him, that was obvious, but he’d been tempered by the farmland and distance from the