Suffice

“Your kind,” Ciaran echoed. “What is your kind?”

“Some call the men druids, or holy men,” the woman said.

Ciaran had heard of the druids, the mad men who prayed to trees and worshipped goddesses and conducted rituals by blood. He drew back.

The woman smiled. “I suppose you’ve heard the stories, then?”

“I...cannot take so much money,” Ciaran finally said. He wasn’t afraid of old wives’ tales. Even if the other village lads weren’t there to see him, he would be brave.

The woman paused and looked down at the coins, then up at him. “Will one suffice?”