She looked at each of them, a hint of the madness and fear from the vision lingering in her eyes. Eimile took slow, deep breaths; centering herself and going deep within to relay exactly what she had seen. Her eyes glazed over and though she faced the men before her, she did not see them.
Her voice, when it came was unnaturally deep and resonating, "I am in the Umbra again, but it is barren and desolate; the spirits are sick and covered in black coal dust. Everything looks drab and worn down, I feel I've been here before, but that's not true. This is not home. Off in the distance the call to assemble sounds, and even though I've never heard that howling voice before, I know that I am one of the intended recipients. I made no conscious decision to follow, but follow I did. "Why are the tiny wyld spirits lost? They are sick and green, someone help them!"
Suddenly and without warning I pass through the Gauntlet and move from the Umbra into the real world. I look around and see the Caern Stone and remember that the Gauntlet here is so thin that there is no effort to cross over. The sun is shining brightly in this seemingly happy little clearing in the woods. Again, everything seems so familiar, yet I know I've never been here.
Standing before me is a Shadow Lord in lupus form, all black fur and piercing blue eyes. The Shadow Lord looks at me "It's about time you tumbled out of that place. We have work to do. I have learned that the Dancers are mounting an attack from the north. They have all but taken over the town." None of this information seems surprising to me, and the Shadow Lord trots off, obviously assuming I know what to do with the information she gave me.
The world shifts and morphs around me and I find myself standing in a field littered with dead and broken bodies in human, lupus, and even some crinos forms. Blood covers the grass, turning a sickly red color in the too bright sunshine. "Mother Gaia help us!" I cry but it is too late for them.
The world shifts again and I am in a small town, presumably the one the Shadow Lord spoke of. I can see two werewolves in crinos form, their fur is matted and falling out, one of them has bat ears instead of wolf. They both smell horribly wyrm tainted and they are limping toward a tiny general store. A woman comes rushing out of the store and applies what looks like healing herbs on the two werewolves. The woman says "Oh, Craven Idol!" She looks at the one with the bat ears. "Tainted Dream!" She looks at the other werewolf. "What has happened?" Craven Idol looks up to her and with a death rattle coming from his chest gasps "It failed. We failed. But they failed too... We will come again, and then we will win..." He falls dead in the woman's arms and she wails in sorrow.
Another transition and I am back in the sunny clearing, I can feel the power of the Caern wavering and faltering. I try to feed the Caern Spirit some gnosis, trying to keep it awake and alive, but somehow I know it gave almost everything in this battle and I alone cannot keep it awake. I hear strange words coming from my lips, I feel the klaive against my wrists before I realize I am cutting myself. Slowly I walk in a circle around the stone, chanting. I'm not sure what I am doing, although it feels so very familiar.
I know there is more to this ritual, something else that should come next, but the world begins to fuzz out and when it comes back into focus, I am still in that sunny clearing, but I get the feeling that this is before the battle. I see two other Fianna sharpening weapons, I know them so well. They are more than family, they are pack. The two men are drinking and joking as they prepare for the battle, telling tall tales. They look up and see me, and I can see the love they have for me in their eyes. This is the trust, love, admiration of pack, of something closer even than family. One of them speaks "We trust ye ta be doin' wha' needs doin' lass. Ye'll do foine." The other one looks up and speaks "We know ye'll be bringin' us back ta here. We'll be able ta try again."
Eimile Roves the Mist's eyes become clear and focused again and she regards her packmates, "That was the end 'o my dream. You must help me, we must help them! Help me brothers for I know not what it means."