Greetings, high priestess Camma
How humbled I was to receive your message, my love of so many years ago! We of the Roman army may think ourselves focussed and disciplined, but your simple message cuts me as would the blades of your fabled twin daggers.
You did not mean to do, this, I know; and you did it with such care that I could, indeed, in the dropping of the veil that time has thrown over our love, feel as we did, those years ago.
Are we so changed, my love of the groves and the moonlit lakes? Do the tides of Môna no longer speak of the unseen mists where mind and heart meet with the wonders of the wild things?
Suetonius Paulinus arrives soon. He will need to be advised of the ways of crossing the deadly straits of Môna Insula, where a man – or even a…
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