The Savage

Part 2: Chapter Eleven: Brenn

Brenn paused just inside the doorway of the round house, its warmth enveloping her. The Maiden sat adjacent to the center hearth, in her high backed chair. Across her lap lay a fishing net. Her now young fingers nimble enough to mend the delicate tool. Hesitant, Brenn approached, "Mathair." She said sitting across from her.

"It's late." the other woman said, lifting her eyes from her work with a smile.

"I'm sorry. I can come back in the morning?"

The Maiden waved her hand, "No need. Time is the burden of the old. What do you need?"

"Would you cast for me?" Brenn asked, lowering her voice.

The Matriarch's hands stilled as she paused, staring searchingly at the other woman's face. "Do the bones still not speak to you?" she asked, finally, her hands returning to their work.

Brenn flinched. They should. She was the daughter of the great Seer Boudicca and yet the magic of the bones eluded her. "No." Brenn replied, edgily.

"Let us See then." the Maiden said, setting the net aside.

From a pocket amongst the folds of her skirt she extracted a modest leather pouch. "Fetch me a cup. Wooden, if you please." she instructed.

Brenn did as she was bid, producing from a nearby shelf, a short, handle-less wooden mug. The Matriarch poured the contents of the pouch into the vessel. Giving it a single shake she tossed it all out onto a tray sitting fireside, beside her. The casting items were typical. A few small bones, a crystal, a coin, a raven's foot, a piece of wood, an iron skeleton key, several stones of various shapes, color, texture and size, and finally a talisman made of silver.

Leaning over them, she studied the items where they fell. Exhaling heavily, she sat back, "Despite your self doubt, you are on the right path, but there is much turmoil ahead of you. The decision you have been postponing must be made. Whatever decision you choose will either lessen the challenges ahead or worsen them."

Brenn paused. "Do I bond him to me or not?"

"No one but you can answer that Princess." Replied the Maiden taking the net up again.

"When I last saw my mother, she said something about seeking the prophecy. What prophecy?"

"I don't know the words to the prophecy only that there is one and that you carry it with you."

Brenn frowned sitting back, "I don't know what that means."

The Maiden smiled softly, "All that you seek, you already have within you. I'm sorry, I have nothing more for you. Perhaps sleep would help. It is late after all."

Llewellyn was asleep when Brenn came back to the small stone dwelling they had been staying in. His right arm was slung above his head and his mouth ever so slightly open. There were still remnants of dirt smudges on his chest from his work that day. Standing over him, she gently brushed his loose hair away from his face. The fire in the hearth burnt hot and it was warm in their shared home. He was barely covered by a thin linen sheet over his groin, one of his legs hanging over the edge of the bed.

She loved him, her heart ached from it, but loving Llewellyn was like a weight she carried. An extra responsibility, there was no freedom in it. It was like a bird tied by it's foot to a rock on the ground, forever forbidden to fly. It made her vulnerable and unable to escape. Her love for him was a weakness. The ease he brought made her lose her way.

Unable to sleep, Brenn sat at the rickety table that had come with the cottage, the matriarch's words playing over and over through her mind. She carries what she seeks with her? Brenn then thought of her mother the night she fled Mor. The last time she saw her mother was when she was handed the leather satchel, her mother was desperate and panicking. That felt so long ago now and Mor was now gone forever.