Pio sat in her chair beneath the trees in Sam’s yard, dreaming of riding in the Forest of Brethil. She was mounted bareback on Falmar, and her children sat before her, about the age of four, taking in the trees and the creatures that lived among them. It was a scene from her own childhood, and the pleasant memories of a ride she had gone on with someone there played back in her dream.
Something was wrong, though. The pleasant day that she recalled was turning dark, the air heavy with the promise of a rising storm. The sharp cry of a bird in warning drew her attention sharply to the shadows that moved beneath the trees.
Her children grew frightened . . . she pulled them closer to her . . . she drew her sword . . .
With a frightened gasp, Pio woke from her dream, her mind disquieted. The pleasant sights and sounds of the party moved around her in a swirl. She blocked them out and touched her son’s mind briefly. He was sleeping! Though his dreams seemed slightly ruffled and uneasy. Perhaps he was still upset from what had startled him before. Her daughter, too, shifted uneasily, thoughts of Gilly’s presence though giving a feeling of some comfort.
Little ones! she said gently, touching their minds softly. ‘Your ammë will come soon to you.
They reached out for her, comforted by her presence. Their little thoughts grew distant, and she thought they must have dropped deeply into slumber.
Satisfied for the moment, Pio rose carefully from her chair and walked stiffly across the yard, looking for Cami, to tell her she must leave . . .
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Eldest, that’s what I am . . . I knew the dark under the stars when it was fearless - before the Dark Lord came from Outside.
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