It just sort of happened. I’d never kissed a lass before, but it didn’t seem to be something one could do wrong. Her lips were soft and warm, and she smelled of wood smoke and harvest. I didn’t know if she had done any kissing before this, but she seemed fair good at it. My head was spinning and the world around was bright and filled with heat. “Ahem.” The sound went off like a shout in my brain. I scrambled back, pushing Aine away. She gasped with a flare of anger. An enormous gray hound bounded into the clearing, barking and circling us. His master was our mysterious speaker. He stood nearly six hands for sure, with a stout frame, bushy black beard, and piercing blue eyes. “What have we here, Bran? Two visitors to our lonely land. What am I to make o’ this?” I helped Aine to her feet, palming my dagger as she shielded his view of my body. He didn’t look or sound a threat, but then I was no fair judge at the moment. The man came close, nearly within sniffing distance.
