A flush went up his thin cheeks. “In time, I’m sure somebody
else would have- What matters is what we do next, and that’s too
big a decision for one individual or one generation to make.”
She rose. “Unless the decision is personal, Eric,” she suggested,
feeling heat in her own face.
It was curious to see him shy. “I was hoping we might meet
again.”
“We will.”
Ayoch sat on Wolund’s Barrow. Aurora shuddered so brilliant,
G in such vast sheafs of light, as almost to hide the waning moons.
Firethorn blooms had fallen; a few still glowed around the tree
roots, amidst dry brok which crackled underfoot and smelled like
woodsmoke. The air remained warm but no gleam was left on the
“- sunset horizon.
“Farewell, fare lucky,” the pook called. Mistherd and Shadow-
of-a-Dream never looked back. It was as if they didn’t dare. They
trudged on out of sight, toward the human camp whose lights
made a harsh new star in the south.
Ayoch lingered. He felt he should also offer good-bye to her who
had lately joined him that slept in the dolmen. Likely none would –
s.– meet here again for loving or magic. But he could only think of `
one old verse that might do. He stood and trilled:
• “Out of her breast
a blossom ascended.
The summer burned it.
The song is ended.”
rhea he spread his wings for the long flight away.