Auntie Freedom peers at me and mumbles to herself. She is trying to remember who I am. Apparantly all she can recall is that I did not dare to get on the boat with the others who ventured to the Otherworld - or wherever it was - to find a cure for Brandubh. I stayed behind because I felt out of place among the druids, warriors and other strong hearted clansfolk. This saddens me deeply. Of all the memories anyone could have of me, that is the least honorable one.

She drifts with her own thoughts while I hang my head and let the silent tears fall. She can't see that I'm crying. That's good. It would show her that I am still the timid little mouse that she remembers.

Suddenly she sits up straight and looks right at me. "Tell me again," she demands, sounding more like her same old self. Slowly I move closer to her. Perhaps her eyes are not as sharp as they used to be, nor her wits.

"Don't you remember Feargus?" I speak a little louder, thinking she may be losing her sense of hearing as well. These things fade. I never thought Auntie Freedom would fade like this. She should have died in glory on a battlefield somewhere, all of her senses still keen as her sword.

"Feargus?" she repeats eagerly. A ghost of a lusty grin dances across her face but she cannot seem to find the words.

I sit down beside her and put a hand on her arm. That arm is still hard and lean as it ever was, although I notice that the pallet we sit upon is probably too soft for her liking.

"Feargus and I were finally wed!" I announce merrily. "Of course you must remember the druid Eldrich. He performed the blessing for our wedding a few summers ago. It was on a Beltane morning. 'Twas so beautiful, I wish you could have been there!" Then I stop, realizing suddenly that she may expect me to tell her the rest. Shall I tell her the truth or give her some happy lies? She may never know the difference, and I would rather lighten her heart than discourage her with bad news. In a rush, I go on. "We don't have any children. Yet. Maybe one day."

We stare at each other, smiles fixed on our faces. Aye, she is smiling now. Her silence makes me uneasy though. "Dear Auntie Saoirse, what are you thinking?" I ask, gently squeezing her arm.