Ceana’s terrier Frang licked its chops, hungry for a rancid breakfast of diseased-carrying vermin. Frang liked vermin. Ceana fed him rats when he was younger and he had developed a taste for the snarling rodents. Their diseases were theirs and theirs alone; the terrier never had a bellyache after scarfing one down, quite the contrary. 

But Ceana didn’t bring him rats anymore. He had to hunt if he wanted one. He would starve otherwise. It wasn’t Ceana’s fault, she had no time to worry about his well-being when she was too concerned with her own. Castle Blae’s store of grain was nearly depleted and venison came maybe twice in seven days when Ceana went out hunting with her older sister and her archers. Parceling out meat from a scrawny buck, though, she only ever got a mouthful, having to share with everyone in the castle. 

Tiene’s boar meat staved off the community’s hunger for the time in between each stag hunt, but as with the venison, boar was in short supply. 

The incessant rains had made it impossible to grow anything. The grain wouldn’t ripen in the heavy damp; straw for livestock couldn’t be cured. The boars and horses were fed grain straight from the castle’s main supply, which was not wise, as Deirdre had warned—“Our survival is more important.” But she was voted down by the nine others in the Council; they reasoned that, without horses, should the time arise when they needed to send a messenger quickly to the MacAonghais Clan in the highlands and couldn’t, the community’s survival would be null and void anyway. 

Ten families, thirty-two women total. Though, with that morning’s grisly discovery, that brought them down to thirty-one. There were no men, save Tam, and he hardly counted. Fathers and brothers and uncles and husbands went off to play war, and had been gone for two years. They were all surely dead. No use in whimpering. Almighty God and the Virgin Mother would give the women the strength to overcome their passing; would give them the strength to ride out this Great Famine; would give them the strength to outwit the God of Rain and bring him to the Lord’s and Mother’s justice. 

Praise the Lord. Praise the Holy Mother. 

Frang scurried around the castle keep, toward the downed port cullis, sniffing out his gnarled-toothed prey. They were close, the filthy, delicious beasts. 

Ceana watched her terrier with a wide smile on her face and followed after him. The mutt weaved through passing legs, its head low, its nose rubbing clay. 

“Get him, Frang,” Ceana urged, jovial. “Sniff the little monster out.” 

Frang raced ahead, dodging around the Archer and Tam, and disappearing across the drawbridge and into Birnam Wood without so much as a single yap. 

“Fraaaaang! Come back here!” Ceana shouted. 

“I’ve told you to keep that mongrel tied up, Ceana,” the Archer scolded. 

“But, Catriona, I told you I can’t do that. Frang barks too much if I do.”

The Archer signaled a lookout on the wall and the drawbridge was raised. Ceana’s eyes widened in shock. 

“Cartiona! You can’t!” she cried. “You can’t leave Frang out there!”

“I’m sorry, but….you know the rules.” 

Ceana pushed her older sister and charged at the rising bridge, trying to clamber up the saturated timber and failing miserably. “Frang!” she called desperately. “Drop it! Drop the bridge! God damn you!” 

An arrow slammed into the wood half an inch from her cheek. She whirled on the Archer who lowered her bow and put out her hand.

“Bring it,” the Archer ordered. 

Ceana angrily tugged at the arrow. It didn’t budge. 

“Get it yourself,” Ceana sneered and ran off. Catriona sighed and cursed herself under her breath.

“I can get her pup,” Tam offered. “Seems a waste to let it die out there.”

“No, Tiene. Don’t. Now, please, take the carcass to the crypt and clean it. Be quick about it,” she told him, glancing at the gang of little girls staring at Tam’s malformed scar tissue in disgust. “I’ll get Sile’s mother and inform Deirdre and the Council,” she finished and walked off. 

Tam smiled and waved to the little girls watching him and they ran away, screaming and laughing shrilly. 

“Tiene looked at you!” one of them cried.

“He did not! It was you he was looking at! Now the Devil’s fire will get you for sure!” 

Tam grunted his dismay and lumbered off to his dark work.

Next Chapter: In the Crypt