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Winter of Victory: Interlude #28
A Woman's Secret It has been almost a year now and she can feel the world turning around and around. From the slow cyclic change of seasons to the quick rhythm of the days, time and space move by and she can see it all. People coming and going inside of her sphere of life and experience. Some make small almost negligible ripples while others displace the tidy arrangements she has made for herself. She has made sacrifices and asked sacrifices of others. She has done things that are not good. She has told lies and allowed people to die all because she had a duty to something higher. The cycle of that duty would soon end and she would be free to pursue her own dreams at last. Gwenllian watches as more of the heroes came back out of the Ways. She senses the excitement of their triumphs and already her own circle was reporting the fascinating results. One Way still stood closed however, and she would have to remedy that soon. Owen has sent a messenger, congratulating her on the success of their mission. Geoff is stronger now and the young heroes of the Sheldomar that much more experienced. Still there were whispers. Some of the heroes had avoided her and headed straight for the Isle of Rhun. Amaethon had somehow managed to slip protection of the Three Mothers past her again. If she had their favor all things would be assured. But she did not have their favor, and Gwenllian was not sure how she might win it. Backing away from the crowds of people, Gwenllian retreats until she is far from any sight, magical or mundane. In a small and dirty cave, the Archdruid of Gyruff crawls along the ground until she is finally to a place where she can have complete privacy. This portion of the cave is barely big enough for her to kneel upright but she is not uncomfortable here. It is a place of solace. Intoning a few words a small disk of light appears and offers her some illumination. From her pocket she pulls a small acorn and lays it in the dirt. In one hand she holds a dagger, which she uses to prick her finger. A small droplet of blood falls free from the wound and lands upon the acorn. At first nothing happens but after a few moments, the acorn begins to glow with a translucent yellow light and an image slowly materializes around it. Where once there was a small seedpod there is now a small boy. His hair is reddish-golden and his features match that of Gwenllian herself. "Hello, Mother." He says in a young voice that is filled with wisdom and awe. "I have missed you." "And I have missed you my dear, Tudrig." Gwenllian's face becomes alive and an enormous smile enlivens her lips. "I have been busy. Your mother is very busy these days." The boy nods. "Yes, Mother, I know. I dream of you often and see the things your mind sees." "We are re-making the land, my son, remaking the people. It is difficult work and my attentions are elsewhere. Forgive me." The boy smiles and does a small dance. "I forgive you, Mother. I know in your heart you wish us to be together. I am sure what you are doing is right. It is necessary. Still, I wonder have you chosen who will be my father?" Gwenllian smiles and wipes a tear from her eye. "No, I have not, I have not had the time, my son, my dream. I will turn my attentions to that very soon. You are very important to me, my dream, never forget that." "I will never forget." The boy stops dancing and looks up at her. "Tell me again, Mother, how I will grow when you have planted me in sacred soil." Tudrig speaks but Gwenllian is no longer listening. The tear is not a crystalline drop of happiness but the unmistakable burning of her blood. As she watches, blood comes spilling out of her nose and around the corners of her eyes. She tries to speak and the only thing that comes out is pained gurgling. "Mother!" Gwenllian sits up straighter but as she does her eyesight is erased in a wash of blood. Crying out once, the Archdruid of Gyruff tumbles forward into the dirt... 
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