Fenn was better with cold iron than he was. He’d ridden the great hound like a horse, clinging to the wild, rough fur, as it bounded through the tussocks. The beast was a better defender than a horse. But he’d felt the need in the land for these things. The old ones understood the hunter…the fenodree had threatened dire retribution if the Cu touched one of the sheep. That had been a matter of some concern to Áed, but the Cu…once the sheep milled, it was no longer a chase, and it lost interest. Áed knew various tricks to mislead the hound at need, if he’d had to. Ah, but when the hound gave voice, it had brought back the running of the Faerie hunt to Áed. He’d nearly forgotten himself in the glee of it, and the land’s hunter-people with him. At the house, once the people were inside, they let the Cu out again, brought it water. It seemed to accept the small fae. Some dogs did. Others never could. “Teach it to herd sheep, and save me some work,” said the fenodree, using his strong, stubby fingers on the dog’s hair, as he sometimes did to the cow, and often to his furry self.
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