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Yet she’d seen Lonrach here the first time in a dream, and been part of sealing the breach in the portal under the falls—however reluctantly.
She couldn’t deny its beauty, the showering light through the canopy of trees, the life and lichen in the nurse logs that scattered here and there, the span of another as it formed a kind of bridge over the river.
Elves and others who lived here might use that natural bridge to cross. Squirrels and birds nested in the thickly coated trees. Deer came to drink, foxes and owls to hunt.
She felt them now, the beating hearts, as she felt the beating heart of the trees, of the earth, of the river.
All connected, all part of the whole, as she was.
And magicks thrived here.
A deer slid out of the trees, became a woman.
“Good day to you, Breen O’Ceallaigh, and to you, Marco.”
“Hey, Mary Kate! You gave me a jolt.”
She tossed back her dark oak braids—the one over her shoulder, and the warrior’s as well—and grinned at him. “Ah now, Marco, darling. I’m Mary Kate on two legs or four. Your dog’s already up ahead, Breen, so we knew you’d be coming. He’s swimming around the falls like a fish.”
“All’s well then?”
“It is, aye. A long quiet day, so your visit’s very welcome indeed. I’ll go on ahead, let Brian and the rest know you’re on your way.”
She slid into deer form as another might into comfortable shoes and bounded out.
“Ain’t never getting used to that.” Marco shook his head. “It’s always going to give me that jolt.”
“Not a bad thing,” Breen decided. “That way you keep the wonder of it. You go on ahead, grab some Brian time.” She dismounted. “I’m going to walk awhile.”
“You sure? If it’s bad memories—”
“They’re not all bad, and I’ve got the urge to walk a little while. Mary Kate’s not the only one patrolling the woods,” she told him. “I’m fine.”
“If you’re sure, but stay along the river, okay? If you want to go off exploring, come get me and we’ll go together.”
“Just a walk, along the water.”
When he trotted off, she stood listening.
The drum of water falling, falling to beat against water. The sweep in the air of birds on the wing, the bare whisper of Elfin feet on patrol deeper in the trees.
She walked Boy, following the river’s curves, taking her time, following an instinct she didn’t understand. Time for alone, time to feel, time to look.
And alone, feeling the life all around, she looked. And saw the glint in the green water.
Walking toward it, she saw the bright gold chain with its bold red stone. She’d seen it before, she remembered now, in dreams before she’d come to Ireland, before Talamh.
And… on the Day of Judgment, in the portrait of her grandmother. Nan wore this pendant that gleamed and beckoned under the clear green water.
She’d meant to ask her about it—why hadn’t she?
Because she’d forgotten it.
She knelt down, reached out. It had seemed so close, but now lay beyond the stretch of her fingers.
How could it be there, glinting, glimmering, when she’d seen it around her grandmother’s neck in the portrait?
Had Nan lost it?
