…You seek my eyes?
Then see it all.
Vision is the price of sight.
You saw the flames, tasted the stench of burning flesh, the sickening lurch of hunger that smells meat in the fire, knowing it for your kin…Burning.
You walked with me blindly through the night, pulled by the Guardian, wishing for your own death, theirs stark in your eyes.
Your mind touched my dreaming by the wood-stone.
I saw you then.
Showed you the way…
You followed me to Raven’s Nest and thought me home.
It was a beginning, no more.
You heard my birth cry… twice…
Once when the gates of life opened for me, marked with blood and rowan blossom.
Once when the knife plunged through my flesh, the blood dripped on flame, red as the rowan crown as the gates of vision opened.
Would you take my eyes?
Then there is another birth…
…They come, beneath a summer moon, picking their way through the heather, casting light on the purple with their torches. But not too close. This is a guarded place. The dead-mounds cluster round the home-place… dead men… guardians… dead seers…they hold the circle… Watching still.
She had known of their coming before the torches, seen them through sightless eyes with her back against the telling stone… in the circle they call the Rowan Crown in memory.
The breeze plays through the darkness of her hair, lifting it like a black cloud around her under the cloudless sky.
She stands and leaves the encircling stones, watching the toothless ones by the stream…