Finn shifted his eyes away from the glowing embers under the campfire’s flame.

It’s just a bug or a small bird, he told himself. You’re being paranoid.

The trip down from Cashelmore was uneventful. They reached the Faymore River by late afternoon. Niall led them off the road and behind a dense grove of trees.

“This is perfect,” Niall had told them. “We’re close to the road and these trees give us cover from passers-by, yet we know the road is on the other side of these trees. The river protects us from anything in town wandering north.”

Niall was so pleased with the security of the site that he tapped Finn for his first shift of night watch. Aside from the disruption of his sleep, Finn was happy for the chance. He had spent the first ten minutes of his watch amazed at the force behind Niall’s snores. Finn started to wonder if he snored in his sleep and what the ladies might think of it if he did.

Over the last few minutes, however, a new distraction occupied him. It started with a single slice through the air behind him. The next passed closer to left ear.

Was that an arrow?

Finn didn’t hear it strike or land behind him.

It’s just a bug or a small bird. You’re being paranoid.

One more pass, this time it came from a different direction entirely.

Owls don’t dive at people like this.

He stepped away from the campfire to let his eyes adjust to the dark. Another pass. This time the breeze rustled his hair. The form of a bat passed between him and the fire. Finn started to wave his arms about his head.

“Shoo, you bleedin’ rat.”

The bat’s wing grazed his temple. He ducked into the mens’ tent and jostled Niall’s arm.

“Niall!” Finn said. “Something’s wrong.”

“What is it?”

“I’m sitting there and this bat keeps buzzing about my head.”

“Did you say, ‘bat?’”

“It’s swooped past me ten times now,” Finn said. “Not near me. At me.”

Niall pointed to the sword on Finn’s waist.

“You’ve got a sword of legend and you’re waking me over a bat? Was I wrong thinking you could handle two hours of watch?”

“Sorry. You’re right. Go back to sleep.”

Finn dipped out of the tent. He walked to the other side of the fire and drew his sword. He flailed at the bat’s first two passes. His fourth swipe missed the bat by inches. He circled around the fire and caught its reflection in the eyes of the oncoming bat. He swung and the bat disappeared into a cloud of mist as the blade touched its neck.

The answer washed over Finn’s brain from front to back:

This sword isn’t going to work on an ávertach. You need wood.

“Ávertach?” Finn muttered. “The old story about the monster who drinks—OI! Everybody out of bed!”

“What’s all this?” Maeve said. “We’re not leavin’ at dawn again, are we?”

“We are not,” Niall said. “Lad, you don’t need to rouse all of us to take care of one bleedin’ bat.”

“It’s not a bat,” Finn said. “It’s the Ávertach. Or maybe an ávertach. Get out here, now!”

Siobhan scrambled out of her tent first, the other three soon after.

“What did you call that thing?” Donal asked.

“An ávertach,” Finn said. “It can change shapes, it wants to drink your—just, don’t let it bite you on the neck.”

As if on command the bat turned into a misty cloud and then assumed a human form on the southern edge of camp. He was a bit shorter than average height, but not a dwarf as told by folklore. Its red cloak draped on the ground around him, a hood covering the upper half of its shriveled grey face. He sneered at Finn, exposing several sharpened teeth. He raised its right hand and displayed five talons where its fingernails should have been.

The group of them stood around the fire. Siobhan and Niall stood to Finn’s left and right. Maeve and Donal stood on the opposite side of the fire from Finn, next to the tents. The four younger travelers glanced at each other for answers.

“What do we do?” said Donal.

“We can only kill it with wood—yew, hazel or ash preferably,” Finn said. “My sword isn’t of much use, Donal’s spear has a metal point, and whatever damage Niall’s mace does won’t be permanent. What are your arrows made of, Maeve?”

“Ash, mostly,” she said.

The ávertach looked at Maeve, then Siobhan.

“He’s making a move,” Niall said. “Get after it, Donal.”

Donal and Niall approached the creature from both sides but it streaked past them in a blur before they could hit it. The ávertach took the form of a bat, flew over the fire to a point behind Siobhan.

She spun around to face the creature. Donal changed course and sprinted between the tents and the fire toward Siobhan. Finn, too, ran towards her. Maeve knocked an arrow and raised her bow after their enemy regained human form. Siobhan dodged a swipe from the ávertach and swung at it with her staff, but it stepped away from her attack.

The ávertach raised its head and stared at Donal. He changed into a bat to avoid Maeve’s shot and flew towards Donal. It broke to the left, away from Donal, and landed behind Maeve. Finn, Donal and Siobhan ran to their ranger.

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“It’s toying with you!” Niall yelled. “It’s got you running around like hounds in a forest chasing a squirrel. Form up. Anticipate. Strike.”

Niall’s advice was lost in the heat of the moment. The ávertach pointed at Donal before resuming its bat form.

“He’s going for Donal!” Finn yelled. “Be ready.”

The bat hung in the air over Donal until Maeve, Siobhan and Finn were within arm’s reach of him. It then flew across the fire and landed in front of Niall.

“Maeve!” Siobhan yelled. “You’re going to get one off before it shifts again.”

Maeve pulled another arrow from the quiver on her waist and knocked it on her bowstring.

In a blur the ávertach slid behind Niall, tearing at his right arm in the process. Niall cried out and fell to a knee, grabbing the wound on his upper arm. He didn’t see that the creature behind him was leaning in to bite his neck, but he did see Maeve in time to hit the ground and watch the ávertach’s reaction as the arrow pierced it in the shoulder.

The ávertach stood, wheezing in pain. It looked at the three people approaching and turned to run south toward the bridge that led into Creeslough. The creature’s body jerked—perhaps an an attempt to change shape—yet it remained in human form.

“Niall, how bad is it?” Donal asked.

“It’s fine. You four have to go get it and dispose of it properly. Finn, I assume you know what I mean by that?”

“I do,” said Finn.

He and Siobhan squatted next to Niall and examined his arm. The four lacerations below the shoulder were bleeding as expected, but a pale green bruise had formed around each wound.

Maeve had untied Scáth and rode up next to the group on the ground.

“Let’s go, Siobhan,” she said.

“I can’t, look at his arm. I need to do something quickly or I’m afraid he’ll lose it.”

“Boys?”

“We’re coming,” Donal called.

He had untied the Gála and was bringing her to his brother.

“Finn, you’re better with her.”

“Remind us to get you on a horse, boyo,” Niall said to Donal.

Niall could only speak in between compressed breaths.

Finn looked at Siobhan.

“He’s going to be alright?”

Her grin traveled no farther upward than her cheeks.

“Just who do you think you’re talking to? Go!”

Finn stood up and ran for Gála.

“Finn, here,” Siobhan said.

She threw her staff to him.

“That’s mostly alder wood, but we’ve woven some yew, ash and hazel within it. You’re going to need it to stop that thing for good.”

“I don’t know any druidic spells,” Finn said.

“You don’t need a spell to hit someone upside their head with a staff.”

“I suppose not,” he said. “Maeve, get after that thing and put as many arrows as you can in it. We can’t lose it.”

Maeve rolled her eyes and was almost out of earshot by the time he finished his sentence. Finn mounted Gála and pulled his brother up behind him.

“Watch that spear,” he said.

He kicked his heels and steered the horse to the stone bridge. They crossed it and rode past the woods on the other side. They were gaining on Maeve, if only because she slowed her horse to steady her aim.

Despite it being wounded and running on foot, they were not overtaking the ávertach as quickly as Finn hoped. Judging from the sound of the creature she had landed two more arrows as they reached the northernmost houses in town.

A new sound emerged from their right.

“Finn! More fear gortas!” Donal said.

Finn looked to his right. Two groups of fear gortas ambled down the first side street to his right. Their backs were to the crescent moon, yet their glowing green eyes followed both horses in pursuit of the ávertach. In between houses he glimpsed an arrangement of stones a hundred yards west of town. Another portal tomb, no doubt.

“It’s leaving the road!” Maeve shouted.

“How many arrows do you have left?” Donal said.

“Enough—I hope.”

The creature turned left and ran through an empty space between two houses. Maeve stuck another arrow in its back as it turned right behind a house. She was almost too close for a proper shot. Finn, right behind her, flanked it on the other side.

Worn stones and broken crosses stuck out of a patch of withered ground two hundred yards ahead of them. The air smelled of rotten cabbage and fish. In the middle stood a crypt entrance made of chiseled stone.

“I don’t think we want him to reach that place,” Finn said. “Donal, throw it!”

“I can’t hit it from horseback,” he said.

“Should I have left you at the campsite?”

Donal didn’t respond. Finn looked at Maeve, who nodded to Donal.

Every part of Finn’s body that was in contact with his brother was now warm. Donal let go of his brother’s waist. Finn felt his passenger’s body shift and then saw his brother’s spear impale the creature. Moreover, the spear’s point was embedded in the soil. effectively pinning the ávertach to the ground.

Both riders reined in their horses as they passed the creature, still struggling to free either itself or the spear. Maeve hopped down and put another arrow in its torso. The ávertach slumped down, unable to strain against the spear with anything but its shoulders and hips. Finn ran up, raised Siobhan’s staff over his right shoulder and clubbed the creature as the staff’s master directed.

“Nice throw, lad,” Maeve said.

“Apparently I just needed the proper encouragement,” Donal said.

“I didn’t realize I helped so much,” Finn said.

“Oh,” Donal said. “Right. Yeah, you were a big help.”

He shared a smirk with Maeve. Finn realized he was missing something and idly checked his surroundings for any clue to what it was.

“What now?” Maeve asked.

“We’re going to need a shovel,” said Finn. “Maeve, can you run back to camp without further agitating the fear gortas?”

“I still don’t understand why we can’t give them the same treatment as this one here,” Maeve said.

“The tales say they are merely a herald of famine or a response to desecration of land. If you mistreat them you’re supposed to suffer bad luck and hunger, though they lack the specifics as to what that means. The ones we’ve encountered so far seem to have it out for us, even before Niall struck the first one. I can’t figure out what this has to do with Breaslin but it can’t be a coincidence.”

“We can’t let them run through the town unchecked, though,” she said.

“They didn’t seem interested in the people inside their houses. First things first, I say. Get the shovel, deal with the ávertach, see to Niall, and see to the fear gortas. Unless you have a different idea.”

“I do not,” she said, “but I just hope you’re right about those things.”

She climbed her horse and rode north along the east side of town.

“Now we wait?” Donal asked.

“Now we check out that crypt,” Finn said.

“You couldn’t have said that earlier?” Donal said. “I could have ridden with Maeve and held the shovel on the way back.”