Deirdre shared a grin with Nyla as Galdus used her hands to paint the magical woad armor on her tenth warrior. Most of them were being directed toward Deirdre's line. The other druids knew the older Galdus could handle far more than the younger Nyla. All Deirdre had to do was go through the motions. Galdus did all the work, laughing and joking.

"Who needs human hands? Ye are sae slow! Come on now, lass, move those fingers more quickly. Feathers sway faster than that in the wind, make them look like it on his back."

Deirdre hadn’t ever quite understood Galdus’s humor, but he was always laughing at it.

Sweat broke out on her brow, so hard was she trying not to think about Tal being the next one in her line. And she had an idea and looked over at Nyla I until she caught her eye, looked significantly at Tal, and then back with a question in her eyes, gesturing with her chin toward Nyla’s pot of woad.

Nyla looked at her line and then at Deirdre's and paused for an agonizing moment.

Please, Deirdre pleaded with her eyes. Please. Relieve me of the embarrassment of everyone staring while we have at the same time all and nothing we desire. Please.

Nyla gave her a pained look and nodded yes.

Deirdre’s relief was immediate. All the tension sloughed off her shoulders and neck like snow on the rim of a hot spring. It was a joy now to paint with woad on the warrior in front of her, a woman of about 30 with stretch marks on her belly from bearing children. Deidre took pleasure in turning those stretch marks into the hands of a whirling storm and portraying them heaving enemies great distances to their doom. Mother nature could be cruel if you defied her, or she could be kind if you minded her, giving you the joy of children.

The woman smiled at Deirdre in thanks and gifted her with a small kiss on the nose, something Nyla had explained was the gift of goodwill — which Galdus had confirmed.

Her constant companion had been uncharacteristically quiet since that moment when she had threatened to drive the dagger into a tree and abandon him there. Of course, she hadn't shared everything with him either. She had tried as hard as she could to not think about Talorac and the life they might've had together had things been different.

Nyla finished woading the young male warrior who was preparing for his first fight and looked over at Tal. Once he noticed her, she gestured him with her head to come on over, making it look like she was deferring to Breth's next of kin by not making him wait any longer than necessary, land bless her.

It all looked like it would go smoothly.

All the tension dropped out of Tal’s neck and shoulders as well, and he smiled his biggest smile at Nyla as he sauntered over in front of her with a sigh of relief.

But Nyla hadn't even dipped her fingers into the woad yet when the head druid dropped his hands from the woman he was woading, wiped them on his own thighs, and rushed over with storm clouds in his eyes.

"Deirdre, you were to take the lion’s share of the work, and you will do as you're told. Never mind the amount of power you have… at your fingertips, the rest of us together are stronger. And all of us together will enforce order. You will not show favorites — whether to accept them or to deny them. The line is the line. Each warrior gets who they get. That is the way, and you are not to meddle with it."

What could she say to that? All anew, her shoulders seized up with tension again. And the tears sprang to her eyes. She was so choked up she couldn't even answer the man, could only lower her head in acquiescence and look up at the next person in her line with an apology, afraid to meet their eyes lest the tears fall freely.

But Tal didn't budge.

Tal didn't come and stand in front of her so that she could put her hands on him in places that she would rather — well, she would rather be doing so under different circumstances altogether.

Clearly, so would Tal.

He squared off on the head druid, lifting his chin in defiance and clutching his fists in threat.

"Your counsel is noted, druid. Howsoever, this time I will not be taking your counsel. Move along."

The warrior who would have been Nyla’s next spoke up.

"Wait your turn, Tal. You're not taking mine."

There was a general tittering of laughter from all the other warriors around, most of it good-natured.

But Tal just stood there smiling expectantly at Nyla. And that took away any of the impatient warrior’s good nature.

"Do not ignore me, young Talorac."

"Watch it, Cyrus. Remember who you're speaking to."

"Aye, Cyrus. Remember Tal is Breth’s next of kin."

"I care for none of that," Cyrus grunted out as he flexed his muscles to look as imposing as possible.

The next thing Deirdre knew, Tal and Cyrus were rolling around together on the ground, headbutting and kneeing, grunting and cursing.

“Good thing they both removed their weapons for the woading,” said a woman nearby.

Even as she was glad of that, Deirdre winced, mindful of how cut and bruised Tal’s naked body was getting without the woad to protect it.

As quickly as the fight had started, it was over, and she breathed a bit easier to see that Tal had come out on top, with his hands around the other man’s throat and a strong grimace on his face.

"You're next, your next," Cyrus choked out between Tal’s fingers.

Tal’s face held a hard look Deirdre had never dreamed of the cheerful young smith having. Determined. Unyielding.

But rather than put her off, the genuine warrior spirit in Tal made her feel weak in the knees, it was so attractive. No one had ever stood up for her like this, not even Seumas. No, her foster father had been more the ‘calmly talk them out of it’ type.

Tal wasn't finished. No, he was still holding the man's throat, staring at him sternly. "What's that you said?" Tal looked around at all who had gathered in close to watch them wrestle. "Say that a bit louder so that everyone can hear you. And embellish a bit, now that all ears are listening."

Tal loosened his grip on the man's throat just enough to let him speak.

"It will be as Talorac says. I will follow his orders from now on." Cyrus looked Tal in the eye again and made an impatient face that was so comical everyone around tittered a bit with laughter, holding it back lest Tal take offense. "Is that enough embellishment for you?"

"Aye,” said Tal forcefully, giving the man one last push in the chest as he stood up. "Don't you forget this promise you have made." Tal looked around at everyone present, flexing his shoulders a bit. "Don’t any of you forget, and hear you all: Deirdre is under my protection. What you do to her, you do to me."

“Aye,” or “Just so,” everyone said as they all shuffled back to their places in line.

Tal went in front of Anaya, who painted him with exquisite woad and goose grease designs that would protect him during the raid on the Romans.

Satisfied that he was in good hands that didn't want him and that she didn't need to worry about it, Deirdre turned to Cyrus.

"Come on over, Cyrus. I agree it isn't fair that you were next.”