All her life, Moibeal had lived alone at the edge of the Ruaridh woods. There were enough stories about the forest, many of which Moibeal herself had made up, to keep most people away. She often went to the nearby villages, trading herbs, supplies and entertaining the locals with magical tales, but she was always an outsider, feared but tolerated. And she did what she could to keep things exactly that way.
Occasionally, someone would come all the way to her hut, usually under specific circumstances; a foolish young girl who had made a mistake the night before and wanted to be sure that there would be no consequences; or a woman who couldn’t afford to have another mouth to feed, even if the pregnancy was legitimate. More rarely, some wanderer would ask to stay the night, although many didn’t even make it through without deciding to run off after they realised what Moibeal was.
However, one night, something very different took place.
It was the night of a new moon, and Moibeal had been asleep for some time, when a strange sound outside woke her up. She immediately jumped out of bed and grabbed her fish knife, holding her breath and remaining in absolute silence. Slowly, she made her way to the door, when a voice was heard from the other side.
“Is there anyone in there?” a woman asked, clearly out of breath. “Help me, please.”
Moibeal peeked through a hidden hole in her wall, and she saw a young woman, holding a wrapped blanket close to her chest. It was too dark to make sense of the shape.
“Please, I need your help,” the woman cried.
Moibeal decided to put away the knife, and unlocked the door. When she opened it, she immediately pulled the woman inside. Her arms were very cold, but she was sweating profusely. Her bare legs were all scratched and dirty.
“What is the meaning of this?” Moibeal asked, forcing the young woman to sit down on a chair as she threw a couple of logs into the fire. “What madness made you come all the way out here in a moonless night?”
The woman looked at Moibeal, turning the blanket around. That’s when she saw the face of a pale young baby.
“You have to save my boy,” the woman pleaded.
Moibeal reached for the baby, but the woman pulled it away, bringing him close to her chest again. “Promise that you will save him and I will give you anything you want, but please don’t put a curse on him.”
Moibeal looked perplexed. But then she had to remind herself of what people thought about her, about the tales surrounding the Old Crone who lives on the edge of the forest. “Don’t be silly, I would never hurt an innocent child. But you must allow me to see what’s wrong.”
The woman sighed, and then nodded, letting Moibeal take the baby.
“What’s your name girl, and who is this?” she asked, gently wrapping her arms around the blanket.
“I’m Coira, and he’s my son, Edan.” Coira grabbed the old witch’s arm. “The priest said he would never survive the night, but that can’t be true. You have to save him.”
Moibeal put her lips on the boy’s forehead. It was stone cold. His nostrils didn’t move, and neither did his chest. She wrapped the baby more carefully, turning to Coira. “Bring me one of the water buckets that are outside, please.” Coira didn’t move, her eyes focused on her baby boy. “Go on girl,” Moibeal insisted.
Moibeal laid the baby on her bed, and kissed its forehead. Then she sat by his side.
When the mother came in with the water, she wondered why the witch was so still. She did not need to ask anything. “There’s nothing I can do,” Moibeal whispered. “There’s nothing anyone could do for him now.”
Coira dropped the bucket, and threw herself at the witches feet, screaming. “You lie, I know you can save him! You can!”
“He’s de—“
“You were dead once too, I know!” Coira screamed, grabbing Moibeal’s face. “My mother told me how the Cú Sith brought you back!”
It happened almost instantly. Moibeal slapped the desperate woman so hard she fell to the ground. The witch got up, grabbed the bucket of water, and placed it over the fire, throwing some herbs in it. “We do not say that name in here, girl,” she said, without turning to Coira. “The boy is gone. There are fates worse than death, believe me. So you will drink this tea, and then you can sleep in my bed, to say goodbye to your son. Tomorrow, we bury him.”
“Please,” Coira said, struggling to talk between her hiccups. “I have no one else. I have nothing else. And I am not afraid of the Cú Sith. Take me to him, let me save my baby, no matter what sacrifice may be required. Everyone knows he saved you once, too, when your mother asked for help.”
Moibeal turned her head slightly. “You don’t know what you’re asking. If you did, you would never have come here.”
“Perhaps, but now I am here, and you are the only one who can bring me to the Cú Sith. Please. For my son.”
Moibeal sighed. But then she grabbed a thick robe, and threw another one towards Coira. “Grab your son. There’s no time to waste.”
Shocked that this was actually happening, Coira pulled herself up, dressed the robe and took her son close to her chest once more. She followed Moibeal as she went outside, not daring to say a word that may upset the old witch and make her change her mind.
Despite the darkness, and without any lanterns or torches to aid them, Moibeal walked calmly into the forest. Coira followed immediately behind her, grabbing the witches robe so that she didn’t lose her.
After what seemed like an eternity, the witch stopped. “That which you seem to want lies just ahead. But if I were you, I would turn back now,” Moibeal said, sounding more maternally this time. “I know death is cruel, but it is also certain. The Cú Sith, however, is the opposite of certain. His intent is selfish. There is no way of knowing what he will do to your son’s corpse, Coira.”
“But you survived, witch,” Coira said. “Your mother brought you back from the dead. I only ask the same for my little Edan.”
Did she? Moibeal thought. Or did the Cú Sith just put another soul inside my body, taking away my real one with him. Why else would I have always felt this hollow? Whose soul is mine?
“Come, then,” Moibeal said. “May you never regret what happens here tonight.”
They walked a few steps further into the forest, and that was when Coira noticed a snarl, followed by a very distinct howl nearby.
“He’s here,” Moibeal said. “Don’t speak, just give me the baby.”
Coira gave the old woman the wrapped blanket, but never let her robe go. She looked around, fear finally biting at her determination.
“It has been too long,” a voice said. A poisonous voice, both enchanting and utterly terrifying. “But I see that you have not forgotten me.”
“Not for the lack of trying,” Moibeal said defiantly.
Coira held tighter to the witch’s robe, trying to see what was happening, but she saw no one else there.
“And who is that young woman behind you?” the voice asked. “I could taste her despair for miles.”
“I am Co—“ Coira was saying, but the witch cut her off immediately.
“Who she is doesn’t matter, hound. She is here because she would see her son given back the life that was stolen from him far too early, and that is all. If you are willing to help her, say so. If not, don’t waste our time.”
“Straight to the point,” the voice said, seeming closer than before. “You know the price.”
“I do,” Moibeal answered.
“And does your friend know?”
“I do, and that’s enough,” Moibeal said.
“Very well,” the Cú Sith said. “So it shall be.” A sudden wind blew over the two women, and another howl was heard, piercing through the darkness of the forest.
Moibeal turned. “You will now turn around, and run straight back to my house. Spend the night there, and when the first ray of light appears, go back to wherever you came back from. Don’t tell anyone about this. Especially your son, you understand?”
“Aren’t you coming?” Coira asked.
“In a way, I will. Now go, foolish girl. Don’t stop, no matter what.”
It was only when Coira reached the hut that she had the courage to look at her son. He was breathing, and warm to the touch once more. And his eyes… They looked at her, full of life, with a hint of the same defiance she had witnessed that night in Moibeal.
