…A hand extended, smiling eyes unseen but felt.
She takes the hand, stiff after the long vigil in the chill of night, accepting assistance to regain her feet.
The grass is cold, frost biting her bare toes.
Above, a million stars streak across the heavens.
It is done.
The old one smiles and raises his hand…
…. Voices call her back.
The sunlight casts a pale golden glow … across the circle her companion opens his eyes.
There is something she recognises in them….
She knows not what it is…
…Atop the mound the grass is chill and damp though the sun shines clear.
There is no shelter and the wind ruffles her hair, an ancient grandmother caressing her child.
She closes her eyes, folds her hands on her breast beside him, relaxing into the other sight.
The shift comes.
The world again falls away.
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