Chapter 2
On the morning following the next full moon, Brennus collected his spear and turned to his mother, Eirwen, grinding wheat by the hearth at the centre of the hut.
“I’m going hunting.”
His mother, a slim woman with a mess of dark brown hair tied back, replied, “Take care,” without looking up.
His grandmother, Vorgell, was sitting by the door, tying bunches of herbs. She offered her cheek, which Brennus kissed on his way past.
“Good boy.”
The comment grated. “I’m thirty-five summers old, Gran!”
He heard her chuckle as he stepped into the daylight.
Their home was a large circular building with a thick, thatched roof. It was one of twelve in the enclosed village, which itself was encircled by a defensive fence of posts, sharpened to a point at the top. Beyond the fence lay fie
