...soon after the ferryman pushes the flatboat off from shore, but Saoirse uses all of her resources to remain standing, her chin up defiantly as she hold’s Maide’s gaze in her own. The matron pulls a charm from her cloak and holds it out, the “X” symbol that holds all the mysteries of the god whose flesh the woman eats. Finally, Maide’s eyes close and Saoirse can see the woman’s mouth move in prayer. As Braca turns to return to the hospital, Maide follows her in.

Without defiance to buttress her stance, Saoirse can stand no more. Although her neice’s herbs have presented some relief from the ague, she is still quite old and quite tired. It carries no shame to have lived a long life, and to suffer from ailments related to age, and she does not refuse the cloak that Moss puts around her neck.

Then, a sudden fear overcomes her—she should not have left the safety of the hospital. How can a sick old woman protect herself against highwaymen and how can she care for herself out in the world? It passes quickly, however, Saoirse has never allowed for fear to rule her. She looks up at the handsome young ferryman, who is deeply engaged in conversation with Moss, who has her arm about her, and finds it ironic that she should be thinking about the end times. When the Ferryman comes for her, at least she will be doing something she loves.

At her age, Moss still has the eyes that beguile even a young ferryman. But they couldn’t keep an older warrior from keeping at his bed for long.

“Y’know, Mossie, Auntie Freedom is thinking,” she finally speaks, a great snaggly-mouth grin growing broad across her face, “We shoul’ go find tha’ Feargus an’ bring him back to his home. Tha’s what I’m thinking.”