Ireland 1816
The ring of knuckles hitting flesh thundered
through the brilliant spring morning. Casey O'Connell lifted her skirts and
raced up the little knoll behind the old white church. She knew her big bro was
fighting. They always fought after church on Sunday. For the life of her, she
couldn't figure out why.
"No! Stop it, I say. Patrick O'Connell, you--"
Breathing hard Casey barreled through the ring of brawling men.
"Of course, Casey, anything you say," her
brother and his friends laughed as he stepped aside.
"Get him, Casey! Land a punch for your big
brother and St. Patrick," one of the young men called out.
"The O'Connell's are getting their women folk
to fight their battles now?"
"I'll have your head for that, Shaunasey,"
another joined in.
"Watch your mouth and where you're a starin'
or you'll have a black eye so swollen you won't be able to see."
"Woo--eee!" The brawl escalated then
seemed to settle around Casey and her off-balance charge through her brother's
foes.
Surrounding her she heard raucous cheers, cat
calls, and whistles as well as her name. Her arms flailing, she ignored them
all and tried desperately to keep her balance.
"Hmph!" She hit hard--a solid rock of
muscle--heard the slightest grunt from the object in front of her. Air rushed
from her lungs and stars seemed to circle inside her head.
"Oh…" she wailed as the object she hit
cradled her with his arms on their way to the dampness of the ground below.
Dizziness overwhelmed her. She let her head rest on a muscled chest. She heard
a slow even heartbeat then a low rumble of laugher.
~
* ~
Moya
sat on the softest of flower petals, watching the scene unfold. Oran sat on
another petal, cocking his head sideways in scrutiny, his manly features
grimacing with disgust. For a quick moment, Moya let her gaze rest on the young
men behind the couple, wishing she dared play a trick on them to shoo them
away.
"Do
you think these two will ever get it right?" Moya asked smiling at her
best friend and older brother. A wee spell to send the others on their way
wouldn't be such a bad idea.
"I'm
not holding my breath," Oran said, brushing a piece of lint from his
clothes and looking to the sky as if seeking divine intervention.
"She
is lying on top of her true love. What more could she wish for?" Moya
sighed, clasping her hands together and enjoying the pure romance as well as
the knowledge it was her doing that had brought Casey to the knoll this fine
day.
"A
little shower of pixie dust? Or maybe a pinch would be enough?" Oran asked
a twinkle in his eyes. "I'm thinking they may be needin' more enchantment.
They are hell bent on getting this all wrong."
"We
have to give them more time. Humans are so--soo--sooo--" Moya let her eyes
close, searching for the right word to describe humans. My god, but they were
impossible, always ending up in the wrong place at the wrong time.
"Inept?"
Oran asked. "Would that be the word you are lookin' for little sis?"
"Foolish
with their hearts," Moya told him, trying to give the couple in front of
them the benefit of the doubt. Her heart beat hard beneath her breast, her
pulse racing in anticipation of Casey finally finding happiness.
"Stupid,"
Oran shot back with a snort.
"This
is the first time they've actually spoken to each other," Moya said,
looking wistfully at the two soon-to-be, young lovers. "We knew this
wouldn't be easy."
"After
all the times we cast spells to put them together, they should be married with
children, not rolling around in the grass," Oran said, a note of disgust
in his voice. He sighed heavily, casting his gaze again heavenward.
Moya
smiled, her dainty hands rested beside her on the lavender flower, her silvery
wings moving lazily behind her, "Like it or not, humans rolling around in
the grass often times begets children," she told Oran while she laughed at
her words and the ancient wisdom.
"You
be knowin' what I mean. Don't be twisting my words." Oran hovered over the
flower, ready to take flight, his wings beating rapidly, his annoyance obvious.
Moya
knew she needed to assuage his feelings and apologize. But she didn't think she
had anything to apologize for. "Sit down, Oran. We need to stay put in
case they need us. More than likely they will."
"Hmmph."
Oran sat back on the flower, crossing his arms in front of him, an elfish glare
on his handsome features. "When has a human ever admitted to needin' one
of the fae folk?"
"Don't
be so fickle, Oran. We both know it's not in
their nature to be askin' for advice."
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