Free Morrigan by Laura DeLuca

lazily to her feet.
    It wasn’t until she was up and about that
Morrigan realized someone was missing. She looked about the
campsite for Filtiarn. She had been so overwhelmed with the beauty
of her surroundings; she hadn’t even noticed he was no longer lying
beside her. She knew he couldn’t have gone far. The smell of fresh
cooked meat was still lingering the air, and his sleeping roll was
packed up and perched against a tree not far from a small crackling
fire. She must have been even more exhausted than she thought to
have slept through so much activity. She briefly wondered where he
had gone, but figured he had to take care of business the same way
that she did. With that thought in mind, she went in search of a
secluded bush.
    Morrigan was just finishing up when she heard
Tiarn’s voice shouting in the distance. It sounded like he was
calling someone’s name. She assumed he had gone back to the
campsite only to find her missing and had been out searching for
her. She followed the sound of his voice, wanting to assure him she
was okay and she could take care of herself. Although, if she was
going to be honest with herself, she had to admit she really just
wanted to see him. Her heart fluttered at just the thought of his
sarcastic smile. Somehow his constant leering only made him that
much more endearing to her. If he hadn’t already won her heart, he
certainly had her swooning with his amazing performance on the pan
flute. She had never realized the simple instrument could produce
such a sweet, soulful sound.
    Lost in her own fantasies, Morrigan had
travelled further into the forest than she realized. As she
stumbled over a fallen tree limb, she started to worry that she
might be heading too deep into unfamiliar territory and wouldn’t be
able to find her way back to camp. When Tiarn’s voice was louder,
she knew she was heading in the right direction. She quickened her
pace, wanting to find him before she got too lost.
    As she drew closer and closer, she started to
realize something wasn’t quite right. Tiarn wasn’t looking for her.
It wasn’t her name she had heard him calling. In fact, he was
talking to someone else altogether. And he was getting louder and
more agitated with every word he spoke.
    “I got her safely through the gateway and we
are on our way to the castle. What more do you want from me,
witch?”
    While Morrigan was glad to see his disdain
wasn’t reserved for conversations with her, she had to wonder who
he was talking to. Especially since it was obvious they were
talking about her. She inched a little closer to get a better view;
cursing under her breath as she snagged her hair on some stray
branches. She could see the back of Tiarn’s head bobbing as he
talked. His dark dreadlocks were unmistakable, but she still
couldn’t make out who he was talking to. He appeared to be alone in
the small clearing, though almost instantly a harsh voice lashed
back at him, its accent raspy with age.
    “Her maidenhead must be intact in order for
the ritual to be a success.” It was a woman’s voice—a very old and
sour woman by the sounds of it. “If you deflower her, if you
tarnish her purity in any way, we shall have your manhood, you flea
invested mongrel!”
    Tiarn snorted. “Do not worry, Hecate. I can
find much sweeter dishes to fill my bed. A witch does not suite my
palate.”
    “Indeed! Your palate is not worthy to lick
the plate of my hound!”
    Morrigan knew she couldn’t hide in the
shadows any longer. Pride and hurt moved her feet forward even
though common sense told her she should probably stay hidden and
listen. The warnings of deception from the Moon card in her Tarot
reading were still fresh in her mind as she stumbled into the
clearing and glared at Tiarn, while still searching for the
mysterious woman who was overly concerned with her virginity.
    “Someone better tell me what’s going on,” she
demanded. “I don’t like when people talk about me behind