“Is it death?” he said, remembering another day when he and Eilidh, that they called Urla, had the same asking upon their lips.
“It is death.”
Ula frowned, but spake no word for a time. Then he spake.
“Let me say one word with Urla.”
“No word canst thou have. She too must die.”
Ula laughed low at that.
“I am ready,” he said. And they slew him with a spear.
When they told Urla she rose from the deer-skins and went down to the shore. She said no word, then. But she stooped, and she put her lips upon his cold lips: and she whispered in his unhearing ear.
That night Coll mac Torcall went secretly to where Urla was. When he entered, a groan came to his lips, and there was froth there: and that was because the spear that had slain Ula was thrust betwixt his shoulders by one who stood in the shadow. He lay there till the dawn. When they found Coll the Maormor he was like a seal speared upon a rock, for he had his hands out, and his head was between them, and his face was downward.
“Eat dust, slain wolf,” was all that Eilidh whom they called Urla said ere she moved away from that place in the darkness of the night.