Hounded Read Online Free PDF Page B

communicating emotions and images, as one does when speaking to an elemental.
    › Aye, she did. She told me I remind her of my sires of old. ‹
    High praise . Oberon was indeed a magnificent specimen of Irish wolfhound, with a rich dark-gray coat and sturdy constitution. His sires of old were called warhounds, not wolfhounds, and they accompanied the Irish into battle, unhorsing cavalry and attacking chariots. The warhounds of my youth were rather less friendly creatures, not like the gentle wolfhounds of today. Indeed, most modern wolfhounds are so mild, bred for gentle dispositions for centuries, that they can scarcely conceive of attacking anything beyond a bowl of dry kibble. But Oberon personified a fine blend of characteristics, able to turn the savagery of his heritage on and off as occasion demanded. I found him online at a rescue ranch in Massachusetts, after becoming frustrated with breeders in Arizona. Everything they had was too tame. Oberon, once I flew out to visit, was practically wild by modern standards, but of course all you needed to do was talk to him. He simply wanted to hunt once in a while. Allow him that, and he was a perfect gentleman. No wonder you like her. Did she ask you any questions?
    › She only wondered when to expect you. ‹
    That was encouraging. She obviously wasn’t looking for any of my treasures—and that meant she might not be in the employ of Aenghus Óg. I see. How long has she been here?
    › She arrived here recently. ‹
    Dogs are not all that great with time. They understand day and night, but beyond that they are nearly indifferent to its passage. So » recently « could mean anything from a minute ago to hours. Have you taken a nap , I asked, since she got here?
    › No. We just finished speaking before you arrived. ‹
    Thank you, Oberon .
    › Will we go hunting soon? ‹
    That depends entirely on the visitor. Whoever she is, she was not invited .
    › Oh. ‹ A hint of uncertainty crept into Oberon’s thoughts. › Have I failed to protect you? ‹
    Do not worry, Oberon , I said. I am not displeased with you. But I am going to come back and get you, and we will enter the house together. I want you to guard me in case she proves not to be as friendly as you thought .
    › What if she attacks? ‹
    Kill her . One does not give the Tuatha Dé Danann second chances.
    › I thought you said never to attack humans. ‹
    She hasn’t been human for a very long time .
    › All right. I do not think she will attack, though. She is a nice inhuman. ‹
    You mean nonhuman . Inhuman is an adjective , I said, as I rose from the lawn and padded softly around the left side of the house to the backyard.
    › Hey, I’m not a native speaker. Give me a break. ‹
    I left my bicycle resting in the street, hoping that it would not be stolen in a few minutes of neglect. Oberon was waiting for me as I opened the gate, his tongue lolling out and his tail wagging. I scratched him briefly behind the ears, and we walked together to my back door.
    The patio furniture seemed undisturbed. My herb garden, planted in rows of boxes along the back fence and in much of the area normally reserved for a lawn, grew unmolested.
    I found the visitor in my kitchen, trying to make a strawberry fruit smoothie.
    » Manannan Mac Lir take this cursed thing to the land of shades! « she shouted as she smashed her fist onto the buttons of my blender. » The mortals always push these buttons and the bloody things work. Why won’t yours work? « she demanded, flipping an irritated glance my way.
    » You have to plug it in, « I explained.
    » What is this plug? «
    » Insert the two-pronged device at the end of that cord into the slots on the wall there. That will give the blender its, um, animating force. « I thought I could explain electricity later if necessary; there was no use burdening her with new vocabulary.
    » Ah. Well met, then, Druid. «
    » Well met, Flidais, goddess of the hunt. «
    › Told you she was