THE WOLF'S BANE

SAELYNA

Faridah, Michelle and Constance teach me a song as we carry wood back to the circle. The Wolf's Bane, they call it. It has a catchy tune, though the lyrics make me cringe now and then. They call them out though, at the top of their voices without abandon. 'The sweetness of her groin, he sang of her with praise. The wolf of Myre was gone, and all he swore to be chaste. They called upon his name, but Wunder would not come. His mistress held the chain, and his bottle of rum'.

Veesa chuckles now and then when she hears a particularly lewd line. I give her a sidelong line when she chortles out loud at one, 'The noble lady swung her staff and the alpha's balls were mush'. 'Oh dear', she mutters, wiping her eyes. 'Aren't you worried someone would hear them?' I ask, cautiously glancing around. 'Hear them? Dear, do you know what the valley is called?' she says. I shrug, and it's quite surprising that I don't. It's practically in my backyard.

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