After tending to the wounded, I squat with the others on the banks of the Sionan, ripping at the mutton and washing it down with sweet, cool river water. Aedan and Ciara eat quickly, then depart on fresh horses, a lamb and a ewe toddling after them. The gold-flecked babe, Conor, is slung snugly across Ciara's waist. Lann, on his own pony, trots behind and throws a merry wave to us before disappearing over the hill. A grinning pack of four more young lads, bonded by the raiding, faces smeary with mutton grease, follows with a waddling fat ram. Straight home to Magh Croimor they'll go, where they will wait for those of us who survive at summer's end.

Again I swish the sweetwater of the Sionan in my mouth and spit blood. Faolan shadows me at a watchful but respectful distance. Doran prowls the edge of our pack. Without looking at him, I know where he is at all times.

A circle forms around Winter Mist. Lines are drawn in the mud. I hear "Crannog Niall" and "Ballinshruane". So we are to go north and west from here, to the very end of the land. I have never been past the craggy Burren and I move into the circle to listen. We are to split up and travel singly or in pairs, and meet on the bridge of land between the twin loughs.

We sit back on our heels and share whatever else we know. One of our best scouts, the pale and silent Oran who is known as Ghost, tells a fresh tale he's heard from a traveler recently passed by the barrows at Loughcrew. It isn't the Hag Herself who guards the place, he says, but a dangerous madwoman. Winter Mist's ears prick up at mention of these barrows and a gleam flashes briefly in her eyes before she scatters us like stars before the oncoming night.

Faolan is by my side, steering me towards the water. "There's a wee boat just a little ways down this side," he smiles and winks his empty eye. "I know Sionan well enough and we can fish along the way." He glances at my wrist, blinking at the silver band I've been wearing since Winter Mist put it on me to link us, then he releases my arm and hurries off. I wander along the riverbank until I hear a soft whistle in the twilight. There's Faolan paddling a fisherman's tiny craft. Hooded, mysterious and silvered by the moon, he could be Manannan. Smiling to myself, I step into the boat and we glide away into the night.