The priestess and the slave were trailing hand-in-hand up the street, following the sullenly-striding form of the tall redhead. Tara was in full armor. Every inch of steel and brass was polished until its shine hurt the eye, and her weapons were on full and prominent display. She was even wearing her helm; its ridges came low across her brows, giving her an intimidating, feral look. The wolf fur of the cloak she'd bought in Cardiff bristled at her neck. Epona studied her quietly, lost in thought.

It had been a long night. Epona had talked Eirian into the plot to bed Tara. The little slave had thought that all the warrior needed was an extra nudge to break down the hostility she still had toward Eirian. Instead, Epona had watched in growing horror as Tara had made the priestess cry in pain. The little slave had been afraid to interfere, but she had almost made up her mind to do just that when Tara's touch had suddenly gentled, and Eirian's sobs had faded. There had been a brief, soft conversation that Epona hadn't been able to hear. After that it had been more or less all right, the slave thought.

She'd only managed a short conversation with Eirian that morning. The priestess had simply smiled a bit and told her things were all right between her and Tara, and that she and the warrior had reached an agreement. Epona had to be satisfied with that, because she hadn't gotten any more chances to whisper with Eirian, and she couldn't quite bring herself to ask her mercurial owner any questions on the subject.

Tara looked very uncomfortable to Epona's eye. She could almost feel the tension rippling off the woman's tall body. The warrior was moving through the streets like a stalking predator, radiating an air of silent menace that sent the townsfolk fairly scurrying out of her path. She's scared, Epona realized suddenly. Tara's afraid. Is it because she thinks that goddess is going to hurt us, or is it something else? She chewed her lip as she mulled it over.

The redhead stopped suddenly. They were in what looked like a small market square in the middle of Kilkee. The majority of the buildings here were more permanent structures, not like the sturdy but comparatively flimsy fishermen's huts on the outskirts. In the square, a number of small, temporary stands had been set up. There was a baker's stand, which held loaves and buns. Another stand apparently was selling dried and salted fish. A third belonged to a tailor, who was busily repairing something gray. Tara turned to look at her two companions and held out her hand to Epona. The slave girl moved forward at the silent invitation; her small paw slipped into Tara's fingers. Without a word, the warrior headed over to the left. Eirian trailed behind them.

There was a space in between two of the buildings. Tara moved into it and stopped there. Epona felt the woman's callused hand tighten a little around hers, but the warrior didn't speak. The slave peered up at her. Tara's jaw was clenched, and her face was as hard as granite. Epona looked back at the small alley. For a moment, she was confused - then she understood. "This is the place, isn't it?" Epona murmured. She returned her gaze to her owner's face. "This is where Maggie died."

The muscles of Tara's jaw jumped once or twice. Her expression didn't waver. "Yep."

Epona looked back at the alley. She could still remember the story that Tara had told, and the description of this place. There weren't any awnings on the buildings, but she could see a place along the righthand wall where something had once been bolted in place. Epona pulled her hand from Tara's and moved forward. She knelt down under the spot and, bending over, pressed the palm of her hand against the cobblestones. It was right here, she thought sadly. Right here that poor little girl died, and Tara was alone with her.

When Epona looked up, Tara still hadn't moved. The little slave could see Eirian standing quietly behind the warrior - she was watching them, her pale eyes full of concern. Epona got up and went back to take Tara's hand between hers. The warrior's gaze dropped to the ground, but she didn't pull away. "Ma'am?" Epona murmured. Tara gave her a sidelong glance, and the slave saw the muscles in the woman's jaw twitching again. "Where do people get buried here in Kilkee?"

Tara's dark eyes flicked up to glare into Epona's. There was a long pause; then the warrior seemed to give in. "It's, um..." She waved a hand to the northeast. "It's that way. Kind of on the way to the Morrigan's hill." The warrior shrugged one shoulder. "Never actually been there," she muttered.

The slave stroked the callused hand that rested between hers. "Will you take us there?" she asked softly. "Maybe we could find out where they put her."

The warrior shrugged again. Then, after a second or two, she tugged her fingers from Epona's. "Later," she grunted. "Wanna go someplace else first." Tara turned away and started walking again. The little slave stood rooted to the spot for a moment. Then she darted to Eirian's side, took the priestess by the hand, and followed after her owner. Eirian walked along without comment.

The three women moved through the streets for maybe fifteen minutes more. Then Tara again came to an abrupt halt, ignoring the curious looks from passers-by. This time she was looking at a small cluster of buildings. They were built from wood and daub, the same as the smaller fishermen's huts, but seemed to be slightly less homey structures. The gray, clayey plaster outlined the rough-hewn planks that made up the buildings. Each one had a stout wooden door.

Epona moved to Tara and insinuated herself against the woman's body. The warrior slung one long arm absently around Epona's shoulders. The little slave looked up at her curiously. "Where are we, ma'am?"

That stony expression was back on Tara's face. She pointed at one of the huts. "There," she said, and the word was clipped. "Grew up there."

The curly-haired girl examined the hut in question. It seemed so innocuous, sitting there innocently among its fellows. This was where Tara's drunken mother had raised her. This was where a young Tara had slept on nights when her mother had actually come home. This was where the child had been beaten and abused. This was where Tara had awaited her mother that one fateful night - where she had probably beaten the woman to death.

It had all happened here.

Epona thought she understood now why Kilkee made Tara so tense. There really were very few good memories for her here. Sadly, Epona turned away from the hut to look at the warrior. Tara was still stone-faced, but the little slave could sense the woman's pain and discomfort. She moved forward impulsively and hugged the redhead around the waist. "I'm sorry," Epona whispered.

"For what?" Tara growled, without looking at her.

"Everything." The slave hugged her harder. Tara allowed it for a moment or two; then she stepped away. Without a word, the warrior started walking again. Epona sighed deeply before she followed.

Eirian walked alongside Epona for a minute or so without speaking. Then she looked at the little slave. "Epona," she murmured, "what were you two talking about? What was special about that alley, and this hut?"

The curly-headed girl hesitated, casting a worried glance ahead at her owner. Tara didn't look back; the set of her shoulders was rigid. Epona sighed softly. "Well," she said in a low voice, "Tara grew up in that hut. Tara's mom wasn't very nice, and she was a drunk. She beat Tara up when she was little. And...and Tara killed her there before she left this town." The priestess's gray eyes widened. Epona nodded quietly. "And the alley was where her friend died. They were both just little girls."

"Oh." The blond was silent for a while. "This must be very hard for her," she murmured at length, as if to herself.

"I think it really is," Epona agreed sadly. "That's probably part of why she was so mean last night." She looked at her friend and slipped her hand into hers. "Are you sure you're okay, Eirian?"

The priestess clasped the proffered hand and absently rubbed at the side of her own neck. "I am well," she said. "A bruise or two, but nothing more. I believe Tara felt the need to remind me of her strength." She smiled gently at the guilty look on Epona's face. "It wasn't your doing, little one," Eirian soothed. "The warrior was gentler after that. And besides, it worked, didn't it? Tara promised to trust me. I think things are better now."

"I know," Epona said in a small voice. "I just don't like it when people get hurt." Eirian smiled and dropped a soft kiss on the older girl's forehead.

They had reached the small market square again. Tara paused there to buy bread and fish, which she gave to the two girls without comment. Then she headed out of the square, following the streets that led northeast. Epona and Eirian followed as they nibbled on their lunches.

Just outside the town, perhaps a hundred yards from the last of the humble huts, lay a lone shack by a field. The perimeter of the field was marked with gray stones. Inside it, Epona could see larger stones laid out in even rows. Each stone was inscribed with runes that the little slave didn't recognize. Nevertheless, she knew what this place was. This must be Kilkee's graveyard, she thought soberly. I wonder if we can find Maggie here? The wind blew about them in gusts.

As they approached the shack, an old man shuffled out. He looked as if he had been a big man in his youth - his frame was still large - but he was fairly thin now. His watery blue eyes fixed them with a suspicious stare as he paused in the doorway. Tara stopped and looked at him in silence for a few minutes. Then she spoke. "I'm looking for someone," she said curtly, pointing at the gravestones. "You know who's here?"

"Aye." The man gave Epona a hard look before turning his attention back to the redheaded warrior. "I knows. I've been caretaker to 'em since before you were born, woman."

Tara hesitated. Epona bit her lip at the uncertainty in the woman's face. "It was a long time ago," the warrior muttered. "A...little girl with brown hair. She would've been eight or so. Just an urchin. Probably no one claimed her."

His brows lifted slightly. "Twenty years ago?" Epona saw Tara swallow hard and jerk her head in a nod. The man's expression softened noticeably. "Aye. She's here." He shuffled his way to a blank stone not too far from his hut and leaned stiffly down to pat it. "Had no name to give her, but I made sure the poor child had a place to lie," he said. His watery eyes studied Tara again. "Did you know her?"

The redhead moved forward. Then, quietly, she dropped down on one knee. Her callused fingers rubbed through the scraggly brown grass that covered the small grave. "Yeah." Tara's dark eyes were fixed on the ground. "Her name was Maggie."

The caretaker smiled then. "Ah! Bless you, woman. Now I finally have something to carve on the stone! Wonderful, wonderful. I'll just go get my tools." He turned and went back into his hut, rubbing his hands together and beaming with genuine joy.

Epona couldn't hang back anymore. She slipped forward and put her arms around her owner's body. Her cheek rested against the cold metal of Tara's shoulder armor. In silence, the two of them regarded the blank stone together. At length, Tara's ribs expanded in a sigh. "No one even knew her name, little mouse."

The woman's voice was weary. Epona looked up; Tara's eyes were full of a deep sadness and guilt that sent a pang through her own heart. She kissed the warrior's cheek. "They will now," she said softly. "And you knew it, ma'am. You always knew it." Tara didn't move. "It's all right, Tara," the little slave whispered. "Maggie knew that you loved her. And you were with her in the end. She didn't die alone, and she would have if you hadn't been there. You didn't do anything wrong."

Tara closed her eyes. "I wish she hadn't died." The words were almost inaudible. As Epona watched in disbelief, two tears broke free and trickled slowly down the warrior's cheeks.

It was an instant only. Then Tara shrugged her off, hurriedly brushed the offending moisture away with her sleeve, and got up. She was her usual glowering self by the time the caretaker limped back to the grave with a hammer and chisel in hand. She watched with her arms folded across her chest as he knelt over the grave and began to chip away at it, carving Maggie's name into the rock. No one spoke until the final stroke had fallen. The old man tenderly brushed away the chips of stone from the freshly engraved marker. Then Tara cleared her throat. "I'm looking for someone else, too, old man."

"Are you, warrior?" The caretaker stiffly rose to his feet again and eyed her. "Who?"

The warrior's icy brown eyes met his. "A woman, a town drunk. She'd have died a few years after Maggie did. Her name was Aine."

He squinted at her. A slow smile curved his lips then. "Ah...I thought you looked a bit familiar under all that foreign armor, I did. When I first laid eyes on you, I thought I'd seen you before, I did - yes, I did! Tara, isn't it? Aine's wild little girl."

Tara's expression didn't change. "I haven't been called a little girl in a very long time, old man," she said coldly. "Do you know where she is, or don't you?"

"Aye, lass." He began to shuffle along between the neat rows of stones. A few yards away, he stopped and indicated a rock at his feet. "Aine was laid to rest here. Someone gave her an awful beating. She struggled along about four days after, but it did her in the fifth morning." The caretaker looked at Tara. "Most folks thought you'd been killed then, too. Never saw hide nor hair of you after that."

"I left. No more reason to stay." The redhead shot him a threatening glare.

The old man shrugged his aged shoulders. "Maybe not. Kilkee ain't kind to everyone, that's a fact." He turned away. "If you're needing anything more, just shout." And the caretaker headed back for his hut.

Epona watched him go for a minute, and then turned back to look at Tara. It was a wild tableau, she thought. The gently-rolling ground stretched out for miles around them, fading into cliffs and ocean to the left and forest to the right. The sky was gray with clouds. Tara stood out like a beacon against the harsh landscape. Her fiery red hair whipped around her in the winter wind, and her cloak billowed a little, but she herself stood still, with her dark eyes fixed on the grave at her feet. The scene captured Epona's imagination like poetry. Tara looked in that moment like a great general or a tragic hero, standing there with her helm under her arm. The little slave caught her breath.

Then reality set in, and Epona bit her lip. Tara's looking at her mother's grave, she thought. She really killed her - that man just said she died from being beaten. The idea made Epona feel a little sick. She could only imagine how Tara must be feeling. The little slave looked at the priestess; Eirian's pale eyes were solemn.

Epona gathered her courage. Once again she moved to the warrior's side, unsure if Tara would even want to be comforted. She slowly put her arm around Tara's waist. Those cold, dark eyes tore themselves from the grave and fixed on her. Epona almost flinched at how icy they were. Bravely, she added her other arm to the hug and gazed up into her owner's face. She wished she could think of something brilliant and helpful to do or say, but she could think of nothing. "I'm sorry," Epona whispered.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then Tara blinked, and her face softened - flesh once again, and not granite. That same profound sadness showed in her brown eyes. Tara's lips curved upward just a fraction. Then Epona felt the fold of a wolf-fur cloak enveloping her, and the warrior's long arm draped itself around her skinny shoulders. "So am I," Tara murmured. And they stood there together, gazing down at the grave - two solitary figures in a wind-whipped, wintery world.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

There had been no change in the weather. The sky was still gray and dull, and a biting wind whipped from the hills toward the sea, making the brown grass shiver in its wake. Tara glanced at the ocean for a moment, and then behind her. Epona and Eirian were following quietly, each wrapped up in a cloak. The warrior turned her eyes back to the path they were following.

It was an old path, overgrown in places by long grasses. It snaked out from the outskirts of Kilkee and disappeared up ahead, leading to a distant hill that dwarfed those around it. Tara rested her palm on the hilt of her sword as she remembered the last time she'd come here. Her mother's blood had been fresh on her hands - she'd been ready to go out and stain them with more. The hill of the war goddess had called to her, promising power and strength and the heady excitement of battle. Tara's fingertips absently traced the raven tattoo on the side of her neck.

Epona trotted up to slip her arm around Tara's waist just then. The warrior tossed a fold of her cloak around the smaller girl and looked down at her indulgently. The slave peered up the path. "Is that the hill up there?" she asked. "That big one?"

"Yep." Tara's eyes darkened as they rested on it. "That's the place."

There was a pause. "Ma'am, are you still going to punish me?' Epona asked softly. Tara looked down to find a worried pair of eyes looking back at her. "You know...you said you were going to. For...for getting you to sleep with Eirian. And I'd rather get it over with if you are."

"Oh, yeah. That." Tara gave the question some serious thought for a few minutes. She'd been angry when it had happened, but her temper had since cooled. She frowned a bit. "Don't feel like it," she said. "Guess I'll let you off. But don't try to jerk me around like that again, squirt."

Epona lowered her eyes until her long, black lashes nearly brushed her cheeks. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I just didn't want you to hate her anymore."

"I don't hate her," Tara said coolly. "I just don't trust her goddess." Epona said nothing. The warrior sighed. "Look, little mouse," she said. "Most people will screw you over. I don't just trust - especially not someone who's someone else's tool." The slave girl bit her lower lip. Tara sighed again and relented. "Eirian's all right," she said. "If she wasn't the Morrigan's slave, I guess I'd be okay with her."

Big green eyes lifted to Tara's. "Maybe the Morrigan will explain things to you today," Epona said gravely. "Then maybe you won't have to be angry with her anymore, either."

"I'm not holding my breath." Tara scowled at the horizon.

After a few minutes, Epona broke away from Tara to resume her place near Eirian. The three traveled on in silence. Tara began to pick her way up the hill when they reached it. She wondered what they were going to find at the top. According to the innkeeper, the priestesses of the Morrigan had abandoned this place years ago, although no one knew why. So if there's no one up there, will the goddess speak through Eirian again? she wondered. Wonder if she'll sprout horns again. Gods. She chewed the inside of her lip. Better keep Epona away. Don't want her to have to see that. It'd probably scare her half to death.

They continued up the hill, until at last the top of it came into view. There was a ring of stones there, each one about a foot taller than Tara. One of them had fallen over, and several were leaning, but the circle was still unbroken. The warrior stopped and turned to her companions. Eirian gazed back at her quietly; Epona was looking around, her eyes bright with curiosity. "We're here," Tara said shortly. "Come on, priestess." She caught Epona's attention and gave her a stern look. "You stay here, kid. I don't want you in the line of fire if something happens."

"Oh." Epona looked a little disappointed. She let go of Eirian's hand and bowed her head. "Okay. I'll wait here, then."

"We'll be back soon," Eirian said gently, giving her friend a reassuring hug. The little slave nodded despondently and sat down on a nearby stone. Eirian turned back and moved to Tara's side. Her pale eyes were calm, but Tara detected a hint of excitement in them. "Are you ready, warrior?"

Tara grunted. "After you," she said with acrid pleasantry. The priestess inclined her head. With quiet dignity, the blond Celt turned and headed for the ring of stones. Tara did the same after ensuring that Epona wasn't going to follow them.

The wind whipped through the abandoned stones with an eerie whistling sound. Eirian moved to stand in the center of the circle and looked around expectantly. Tara folded her arms across her chest and watched. Now that they were actually there, she had to admit that she was nervous. Her dark eyes remained on Eirian as the priestess slowly turned. There was silence. After a few minutes, the blond girl looked at Tara. "I'm not sure what to do," she admitted softly.

The warrior scowled. "Call on the Morrigan, of course," she growled. "Do your priestess-mouth-of-the-goddess thing."

"I did." Eirian looked around at the stones. There was a pause. "I will try again," she said. "Perhaps we just need patience." She sat down and closed her eyes to pray and meditate. Tara shifted impatiently.

There was only silence. Tara stood there for a long while, but there was still nothing. After a time, she sat down with her back to one of the stones and began to toy with her boot knife. Still the priestess didn't move or speak. Tara kept her eye out, but there were no supernatural manifestations at all. Her impatience grew.

The sun had been at its zenith when they'd arrived at the hill, gleaming palely through the brooding clouds. Now it was sinking lower. Tara estimated it was already late afternoon. She sheathed her knife and glowered at Eirian. "Well?" she growled.

The look the priestess turned on her was honestly bewildered. "I'm sorry, warrior," Eirian said. "I...I don't know what to do." She made a helpless gesture. "The goddess said to come here, and she would speak with you. Perhaps the Morrigan is testing your patience. Or my faith." Eirian rubbed her eyes. "I will keep trying."

"Don't bother," Tara snapped, her patience giving out completely. "Obviously the Morrigan's not showing up, just like she's never shown up when I need her. She shows up for you, priestess, but she's never shown up for me. To hell with her!" She sprang to her feet and glowered at the sky. Then she turned away and stalked back to where they'd left the little slave.

Eirian stared after her in dismay before scrambling to keep up. "W-wait, warrior," she protested. "The goddess said..."

"The goddess can kiss my..." Tara's snarl was cut off as her eyes fell on Epona. She stopped walking abruptly, and her eyes narrowed.

The slave wasn't alone. She was sitting cross-legged on the ground by a rock, chatting and smiling easily. An old woman was sitting on the rock. Her hair was gray and stringy and hung down to her shoulders. She was dressed in a long, dark gray dress, with a cloak of slightly darker gray draped over her bony back. Her eyes were dark and intelligent. It looked as though Epona was telling her a story, judging by the slave's hand motions.

In less than a breath Tara's sword was naked in her hand, and she was striding forward with dark purpose. Epona spotted her first. She paused in mid-sentence as her eyes filled with dismay. Then she quickly got to her feet and stepped between Tara and the stranger. "Ma'am," she said softly, turning to indicate the old woman, "this is Ceili. She says she lives here. Ceili, this is my owner, Tara of Kilkee."

Ceili turned her gaze on Tara. It was unexpectedly sharp and intelligent. She eyed the blade in the warrior's hand with something like amusement. "Ahh, the wolf pup has teeth," she chuckled. "Will she tear the old woman to pieces?"

Tara didn't back down. She reached out, grasped Epona by the arm, and pulled her away from the stranger. "Who are you, crone?" she demanded.

"Speaking to the heart," the old woman said. She was grinning madly, displaying yellowed and missing teeth. "Not the hand, or the mouth...no, the hand and mouth, always doing and speaking. Need the heart...need the heart."

The redhead sheathed her sword and gave Epona a disgusted look. "Woman's insane," she growled. "You make a habit of chatting up lunatics you meet in the middle of nowhere?"

Epona wrinkled her brow at her and poked out her lower lip. "She's not crazy, ma'am," she said. "She's a nice woman. She told me some really great stories. And she said she'd keep me company until you got back."

"Well, I'm back." Tara glowered. "She can get lost now."

The old woman, however, paid Tara no mind. She rose from her perch on the rock and approached Eirian, who was taking in the scene with a faintly puzzled expression on her face. "Ah," Ceili said softly. "And you, child - you are the voice. You speak her words, yes. You take her form."

Eirian's eyes lit up in pleased surprise. "Yes," she said softly. She searched the woman's face. "You're the one we're supposed to meet, aren't you?"

"If you have come seeking the Mother and the Maid and the Crone, you will not be disappointed." The old woman turned a smile on Epona, who returned it innocently. Then she looked keenly at Tara. "You've come a long way, warrior. Many a mile and many a tear and many a sleepless night, only to wind up at your own front door! Eheheh." Ceili giggled to herself.

Tara's eyes chilled to ice. "If you have something useful to say, old woman, say it," she said coldly. "I didn't come up here to be laughed at by a shriveled old bat."

"Impatient as the north wind." Ceili turned to face Kilkee. The only sign of the town was a few puffs of smoke in the distance. "A shadow," she murmured. "A shadow from the south, swift and deadly. It crushes all in its path." Her eyes seemed to grow darker. "How can the voice act without the hand? How can the hand be understood without the voice? And how can either act without the heart? It can't be."

"Talk sense," Tara snapped.

Ceili looked faintly amused. "So much power," she said, eyeing Tara's muscular arms. "Too much, and not enough wisdom. The hand needs the heart and the voice."

The warrior's eyes widened. "Did you just call me stupid?"

Epona sidled up to her owner and put both arms around her waist. "I think Ceili means that we need each other," she said softly. "Eirian's the voice, and you're the hand, so I guess I'm the heart. She is talking sense."

"It's stupid," the warrior growled. "Just come out and say what you want to say, woman."

The old woman's expression didn't change. "You have been called to beat back the shadow," she said. "Will you listen to the voice, to the heart? It won't be easy, wolf pup. The shadow devours everything in its path." Ceili looked down at Epona, who was regarding her gravely. "It will be hardest for you," she said. "Will you become what you are? Will you let the shadow darken your spirit?" Her clawlike hand touched Epona's chest. "Remember what's important, and you will come through, little maid." The slave's brow wrinkled.

Ceili turned to the scowling warrior. An enigmatic smile crossed her lips, and then she looked at Eirian. The Celt's pale eyes were shining. To Tara's endless annoyance, Eirian moved forward and knelt down at Ceili's feet. The old woman smiled and laid her hand on the girl's blond head. "You already know, child," Ceili said gently. "Stay the course."

"I will." Eirian's chin came up.

The warrior's tolerance finally gave way. "Look," she snapped, "I came up here because this useless blond said the Morrigan was going to tell me what the hell she wants with me. If she sent you, tell me what I'm here for. Spit it out. Now."

The old woman's dark eyes met Tara's. "You don't listen," Ceili scolded. "The hand must beat back the shadow. Destroy it...but it cannot protect the heart, not anymore. Not from everything." She patted the still-kneeling Eirian on the shoulder and gave Epona a gap-toothed smile. Her gnarled hand clasped the little slave's for a moment. "Goddess be with you," she said. Then, without another word, Ceili turned away and began to shuffle off to the south.

Tara was furious. She briefly considered taking out her anger with her blade. Then, with an audible snarl, she turned and stalked down the hillside toward the distant town. "I knew this was a waste of time," she fumed as she heard Epona's footsteps scramble behind her. "Never ask a prophet a straight question and expect a straight answer. All the gods ever do is mess with people. I won't be made a fool of!"

"B-but..." Epona looked back, still struggling to keep up with her angry owner. "Ma'am, she did tell you things, and...aren't we going to wait for Eirian?"

The warrior glanced over her shoulder. There was no sign of the priestess. "No," she growled. "If the Celt's too stupid to keep up, she can find her own damn way back to the inn. Or let her bunk with that half-baked, withered old prune. They can swap god stories."

The little slave looked like she was about to cry. "But there's wild animals out here," she protested. "And...and it's cold, and she doesn't have any food. And it'll be dark soon..."

"Then let the Morrigan protect her," Tara sneered. Epona's step faltered - it looked as if she was thinking about going back for the priestess. Without a word, Tara grasped her slave by her collar and tugged her along. The smaller girl let out a squeak of surprise, but made no further protests. She stumbled alongside Tara and looked miserable.

By the time they walked into the inn, the sun had set. The bubbling cauldron in front of the fire looked very inviting. Tara was hungry and tired. Without a word, Tara strode forward, pulled up a stool, and sat down. Epona very hesitantly knelt at her feet. The slave still looked very upset, Tara noted with some annoyance. The warrior drew her dagger, plucked a bit of meat from the pot, and popped it into her mouth.

Epona hugged her knees miserably the whole time Tara ate. She accepted the tidbits that her owner offered her, but her green eyes never strayed far from the door, the warrior noted. Tara scowled at this. She'd been angry at the goddess and the blond Celt up on the hill. Now that her temper had cooled a little, Tara wondered if she hadn't been too hasty in leaving Eirian behind. As Epona had pointed out, there were wild animals near Kilkee - wolves, for example, and the occasional wildcat. And while Eirian was a capable girl, Tara doubted she'd be much of a match for either one.

The warrior was just about to relent and suggest going out to search for the girl when the inn door opened, and Eirian slipped in. A blast of wind and sleet accompanied her. She found Tara in a moment and moved over to her. "I'm sorry, warrior," she said softly. "I felt I needed more time to commune with the Morrigan. You left so quickly I couldn't tell you."

"Whatever," Tara muttered. "Just sit down." Eirian quietly dropped to her knees beside Epona. The redhead began once again to pluck bits of food from the cauldron, this time handing the majority of them to the blond. Eirian ate in silence. Tara noticed that she was shivering, however. She wrestled with herself for a few minutes, and then sighed. "Listen," she said gruffly, "I'll take the runt upstairs to make up the room. Stay here and warm up. I'll get you later."

Eirian gave her a grateful look. "All right," she said. Tara and Epona took their leave.

It didn't take long for the slave to make up the fire and fluff the pillows. Tara sat down on the bed and watched as Epona plumped up one last cushion. Then the girl bounded to her feet. "Should I go get Eirian now?" she asked brightly, her whole demeanor changed now that the priestess was safe.

"No." Tara got up. "I don't want you running around alone, little mouse. You look Romusi, remember?" Epona's face fell, and she nodded. Tara ruffled her curls gently. "I'll get her," she said. "I'll only be a minute." With that, the warrior headed back to the common room.

Eirian was huddled by the fire, toasting her hands. She looked up as the warrior approached. "Is it time to go upstairs?" she asked. Tara shrugged and nodded. The priestess rose to her feet, but Tara didn't move. They stood and looked at each other.

After a minute or two, Tara spoke. "The Morrigan say anything more to you?"

The priestess paused. "Nothing very clear," she said softly. "There's danger coming, I think. And you've been chosen to stop it, warrior."

Tara frowned. "The old bat said something about Epona," she said. "Something like it'll be hard for her. She in danger?"

Eirian looked down at the fire. Her pale face looked troubled. "Nothing's clear," she murmured. "The goddess didn't speak directly to or through me. There are only pictures...flashes of..." Her voice trailed off for a moment. Tara folded her arms. "I believe we will all be in danger," the priestess said finally. "I don't know what that danger is, exactly. I only know that we can defeat it." Her gray eyes were unfocused.

The redhead snorted. "I can defeat it, you mean," she grumbled. "Bloody goddess will probably drop me in the middle of some damn battlefield armed with a twig." Eirian looked up again, the faraway look fading. Tara gestured curtly. "C'mon, Blondie," she said. "Room's warmed up. Time to get some sleep." Eirian bowed her head gravely. In silence, the two headed off to their room.