When they had finished their meal, Oatie began to gather the pots and leavings from their meal, but Lugh took them from her hands.  “You did the cooking, the least I can do is wash up afterward.”  He was rewarded with a lovely smile and felt good about it as he washed the pots and spoons with water and sand from the little stream.

The fire had died down to almost nothing.  Camp was laid, with Oatie already in her bed and another bed, on the other side of the fire, laid out for him.  It had been a long day, but Lugh didn’t quite feel like sleep.  After stowing the gear, he took some firewood from the pile and added it to their camp fire, stirring up the flames in the process.  Lugh laid down and looked over at Oatie where she lay.  He was surprised to see her eyes shining in the dancing fire light, he’d thought she was already asleep.

“I’m sorry if I woke you by stirring up the fire.  I thought maybe you were already asleep.”

“No,” she said, Lugh thought a bit sadly, “I was thinking.”

“Thinking what?”

“Everything and nothing,” she said.  Oatie rolled on her back and looked up at the stars. ”Thanks for cleaning the pots, by the by.  That was good of you.”

“Thanks for cooking and making camp.  Was thanks for cleaning the pots what you were thinking?  Because I find that hard to believe.”

Oatie pondered the question and said nothing at first, but Lugh could she was now looking at him, her eyes, bright and avid, in the fire-light’s glow. “I suppose I was thinking you were not what I expected is all,” she finally said after a long silence.

“Why would you expect anything? Did you know I was coming?”

“Not really, I was surprised to find you sitting on my giant, but I knew you, Lugh of the Long Journeys.  What Norfolk would not?”

“Really? It has been a long time since I’ve been with your folk, and still you know me?”

“Hard not to remember. . .” Oatie’s voice trailed off in the night.

Lugh was annoyed by what seemed a riddle.   Oatie was hinting around something and it angered him for a reason on which he could not put his finger.  “And why is that?” he prodded. “It seems you have a bad image of me and are surprised, as bad as I am, that I’m not worse.”

“I meant no offense, only thanks for the help.”

“. . .because I’m such an ogre that no Norfolk would expect common decency from me?” Lugh sat up, too agitated now to calmly lie beside the fire. “What is all this?”

“We need to sleep, Lugh, please.” Oatie snuggled deeper in her bed roll, but her eyes still shone through her long eye-lashes.

“Then tell me and have done.”

“I don’t think this is the time to talk of such things.  We should sleep.”

“Should we, truly?  Then put my mind at ease and answer, what are we even talking about?  It seems I’ve done some wrong that every Norfolk knows.  It can’t be a great secret, tell me then what I’ve done or how could I possibly sleep?”

“How could you not know it?”

“How could I if you don’t tell me?  I swear I have no idea what it is you are saying so much not to say.”

“It is a hard thing.” She seemed about to say something important but instead she began in a rush, “This is not the time to speak of it.  Honestly, I don’t know why I would believe anything my people say.  We are both outcast and I prefer it so.  It is nothing, idle chatter from a tired head.  Go to sleep Lugh, we will need our strength for the morrow.”  Oatie turned her back and disappeared into her bedding roll.

Lugh had had enough deflection.  He threw off blankets, moved to Oatie’s side, and, reaching out, pulled her shoulder to turn her back toward him, “Tell me this hard thing.  You must. . .”

“Don’t touch me!” Oatie shrieked and flinched away.

Lugh had no intention of harming her and Oatie’s reaction, seeming to suggest that he could, enraged him.  Lugh grabbed her shoulders and shook her, “Tell me! Is this about Von?”  The terror in her eyes made him know that it was. “What about Von? She warned me of my brother and I fled. What happened to Von?”

“You’re hurting me,” she cried.

“Tell me what happened to Von.” He hissed and shook her again, more violently than he intended.  Cloth tore, but Lugh did not release her.

“They killed her,” Oatie managed and Lugh froze, stunned. Oatie’s eyes were wide with terror, “Are you going to kill me Lugh?” she asked, but Lugh had already dropped her and wandered into the lonely night.

“What does any of this have to do with the Deer Riders?” asked the youngest clearly growing impatient even with his grandfather’s plunge into darkness.

“Oh that’s fine. Don’t you care what happened to me?”

The eldest coughed, “well grandfather, it seems you survived.”

“Well enough, but let me ask you.  What does this tent have to do with me?”

All three boys looked confused, still, the youngest was bold enough to venture an opinion, “It’s where you live?”

“True, and couldn’t you learn something about me by where I live?”

” I guess. . .”

“Well, you are learning about the Deer Riders.  Show some respect.”

“I fell into darkness, but I woke in a golden glowing cloud, in flames, on coals of fire, but I was not burned.  The central hearth, where I sat, lit the hall with dancing gold, but it seemed the inhabitants were as bright.  They whirled and leaped to the sound of pipe and drum, their faces were strange to me, their clothes, stranger, full of embroidery and darting, piping and checking and. . . Well I’d never seen the like.

There were gilded partitions and polished copper shields behind oil lamp sconces.  The stonework even seemed to glow from the fires and too, perhaps, from the folk.  I was too startled by it all to move out of the flames.  I sat there like one of the logs that burned underneath me until I realized that there was a girl staring at me and laughing.

That I had not yet died screaming in flames had made me sure that I dreamed if not sure of anything else.  Now I wondered, for here was someone in my vision who saw me.  I moved toward her and she motioned to me as she rose and walked back into a darkened passageway.  I glanced at the bright folk around me in their colors and embroidery.  Now I saw tables laden with a feast and many more folk sitting in compartments watching the dancers and making merry. 

The watchers looked through me, the dancers whirled around and even through me it seemed, and there in the shadows a little girl still laughed at me.  I noticed her again and followed her. “You can see me. . .”

She spoke, but I couldn’t understand her words.  She cocked her head and smiled brightly.  She laughed again as I shook my head.  She motioned to herself, “Jella” she said and then motioned to me.  I told her my name and she spoke it so strangely that I laughed too.  She motioned me to follow and went deeper into the shadows.

She pulled a loose stone from the wall.  It was marked with a carving of a spiral and a creature that I thought might be an otter.  She pulled a little lamp and a bottle of oil from the niche.  She smiled and waited for my full attention. Then she showed me that there was a wick in the bottom of the lamp, she drew it out and set it as it should be to function, looking again for my understanding.

I nodded, “I know what a lamp is.”  She smiled and chuckled, shrugging she unstopped the bottle, filled the lamp, and taking the wick out of its holder she dunked it in the oil and then placed it back in its correct position.  She wiped away the excess oil, closed off the oil reservoir, and then looked at me again.  She showed me a necklace she had around her neck.  It was exotic and decorative, but she took it off and showed me that the pendant held a flint and steel.  She prepared some tinder fluff and placed it where it could catch the wick afire but not the oil reservoir.  A few practiced strikes and the lamp glowed to life.

She set the little lamp on a flat stone that protruded above the hidden niche and reaching in the nook drew out another lamp and oil bottle.  She showed me these and then placed them and the flint and steel necklace back in the niche and stopped it all up with the carved stone.

She watched me until she knew she had my attention and my eyes were locked with hers.  “You will need these when next you come,” I heard her say in my head though my ears heard something else.  This is what I took from what she said though her words did not say that, being gibberish to me. 

She took up her lamp and led me down the narrow sloping passage, “Souterrain,” she said.  She laughed again to see my confusion.  There was a great booming behind us.  She held the lamp between us and her eyes held mine, “They are closing the outer doors for Samhain.  Feel the breeze?”

And so I did or thought I did.  I saw the breeze catch her fine golden hair and set it aflutter around her face.  A breeze was coming from the darkness ahead, cool and rich with strange scents.  The passage was narrow with stores crowding our way both left and right.  We walked a long way it seemed to me.  I recall her humming a song as we went, we descended a long slope and then again I felt that our way turned again upward, particularly toward the end.

I say end and there was one.  Steeper and steeper our way bent.  Then the light of the small lamp struck a wall.  On closer inspection, the layers of the stone wall were set back as they rose, a steep stairway leading to a starry sky. 

I looked once more at the girl.  Her eyes looked golden in the lamp’s flame light and her smile sparkled.  I thought to myself how lovely she was and how strange.  “This will be your way Dream-walker. . .” she said and I knew without knowing her words. “. . .next time you come.  The stars will lead you home.” At that moment the lamp guttered out and I was left in darkness, or very nearly so.  From above, starlight shone and I followed it up and out.