The Song Of The Wolf (Unedited)

Chapter Eight

To say Maebh was having a bad day would be an understatement.

First, she tripped with her crutches and tore the stitches that held together the edges of three swollen gashes. Which, with the help of Coinín, resulted in a trip to the infirmary to get them restitched.

Second, she spilled an entire mug of tea over one of her grandmother's books during breakfast. Worst of all, it was her favourite; the handwritten, leather-bound book about Greek mythology. She had only just begun reading a story about a mad king with twelve sons when it happened. The rest of the story remained a mystery as most of the ink had been smudged, making it impossible to read even after she had tried to blow-dry the pages.

Then, to her greatest frustration, she had set the oven's timer to an hour instead of 30 minutes. And was rudely interrupted from a dreamy daze by the unmistakable smell of burned biscuits.

So when the doorbell rang at 5 o'clock in the afternoon and Maebh opened the door to be met with the familiar faces of her parents, it was the last drop. She felt her bottom lip tremble right before the waterworks dispensed. Hot and fast, the teardrops ran down her face as she fell into her mother's arms.

"W-what are you doing here?"

"Shame on you, Maebh Niamh, that is no way to welcome us." Saoirse O'Sullivan teased in her native Irish tongue, kissing her cheeks and wiping them clean of any tears.

Bewildered, Maebh watched how John O'Sullivan hobbled into view with two suitcases, looking like the mirror image of a spoiled child. He kissed her cheek in greeting and pushed past the two of them –not even a little fazed by his daughter's dishevelled state.

"This wasn't my idea." He informed her, stomping off to carry the baggage to the guest bedroom like it hadn't been 20-years since he had last been inside his childhood home.

Somehow, that made Maebh smile. "How reassuring!"

Her father replied with a strangled grunt.

"Ignore him, he's shattered from all his tossing and turning throughout the flight. I slept like a babe, mind you." Saoirse said.

Turning back to her Mam, Maebh tightened her arms around her frame. "Missed you."

"As I missed you, a stór. And your Da as well, even though he's too stubborn to admit it. You should've seen him during shark week without his trusty shark pal, bleedin' miserable that one."

Leaning on one crutch, Maebh ventured off into the kitchen and returned minutes later with a tray of tea.

"The place looks wonderful. You did a grant job, love." Her mother told her, taking in the changes the interior had undergone and continued to peer around only to halt on the cast wrapped around her daughter's ankle.

Following her gaze, Maebh could already feel a storm brewing and cringed. "Right.. I forgot to tell you about this but I sort of fell down a ravine and err, well - broke my ankle."

Her fingers wrapped around one of the ceramic mugs and half hid behind it, letting the hot liquid cascade down her throat.

To her surprise, her Mam shrugged. "Why d'you reckon we're here? Bear rang us on Monday. Such a darling lad. And he's so worried about your wellbeing, with him working."

Maebh nearly choked on her tea. "He what?"

"He asked us to come and keep an eye on you." Her Mam elaborated, taking her own mug in hand and finishing it in a single gulp. "We jumped on the first flight here."

Transfixed by this new information, she had to bite her tongue in order not to explode. The cheek of the man! He went and called her parents just when they had agreed that yes, she would be peachy on her own and no, there was no need for him to check in on her every second of the day. She had broken her ankle, for crying out loud, not her damned neck!