The birds told me of your coming.
Hawk and Raven follow you;
sight and memory,
soaring of wings and thought.
I see you… tall and grey, small and red.
I see the purpose in your step and know where it leads.
I know what you seek…
I have been waiting since they laid me under stone…you come for my eyes.
There is a price…
…Bitter cold, the wind blasts the moor, hair whips colour into pale cheeks, rain hides the tears that still come.
It had been a long journey and little comfort awaited… just a fire in the small ravine by the waterfall, hides stretched between the rowans for shelter, meat she cannot stomach.
A place that matches the desolation in her heart…
…Gone, all gone.
The ravagers of the Raven had come.
Death a small price to pay to protect the sacred wisdom.
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