Fenian has been too long in the company of the Fianna, and they, of the Milesians Gaels, are closest to the Danann in the arts, warfare and insight. He must have sensed me the moment I entered the keep. I turn quickly and stand, securely balanced upon the strong timbers beneath my feet.

The huntsman is unarmed, so - in accordance with my geas - I drop spear and shield and give him no time to speak. Leaping forward like a mountain cat, I tackle the slayer of the Golden Stag, and we tumble from the roof, onto the soft turf below. Taking a fistful of Fenian's mane in my hand, I bury his face into the to the ground and bellow a raptor's warcry that carries through the village.

Fenian reaches backward, catches my neck, and throws me forward; I fall into a somersault. I return to my feet in an instant and prepare myself for the huntsman's next move.