Stupid, thought Finn as he stalked through the woods back toward the site of the massacre. He was angry at Quinlan and Derrick for running off, at Connelly for not coming with him, and at himself for once more being the one to hunker down to do “the right thing.” We can’t just let our clan die out.

It was one of those days where even the asphalt looked pretty, bits of sand and glass glittering in the sun. I stepped into College Cathedral in Galway and looked up. I immediately got vertigo. The vaulted, ribbed ceiling was probably the first I'd seen that truly accomplished its stated purpose of drawing my eyes up to Heaven. It seemed the walls ran up and curved in forever, even though I could clearly see where they came together and stopped.

That night they found respite beneath a cover of leaves and dirt; the next day they awoke freezing and covered in dew. As Connelly rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, he was disquieted to notice both Derrick and Quinlan missing. Not that he would miss them; they were hardly his favorite people, and besides, they'd done nothing but cry ever since the ambush. Though he supposed this was a normal reaction, he didn't want to wonder. It was a little difficult not to wonder with them around. He jammed his fingers into the ground.

The night of Shavnah had passed in a haze for Bran Finn. There were too many things to process, too many things to think about. He fixed his eyes on the green-cloaked back of the clan's druid riding before him as his horse stumbled along the narrow forest path. Always he had looked to him as the source of answers, but he had an uneasy feeling that even the druid didn't know what was happening this time. He thumbed at the leather reigns he held. First there had been the vision that night... nobody seemed to have known who the dead man had been, but he had apparently appeared to them all.

Connelly hid in the bushes along the path that led back to his clan's settlement. He was glad the moon was not out that night. He appreciated the extra darkness. He held his breath and muttered a spell to keep his father's horse, tied to a tree further away from the path, quiet. He had been returning from Portaiden, the village in the valley below, when he'd noticed a strange glow on the path ahead. Most nights he would not have concerned himself with it, but he was cautious these days.