Fraoch's road-watchers respond to the sound of the horn, gathering in from An Bothar. The Brigantes, loyal and proud, with a pair of wolves lurking vigilantly just beyond the horses' range of scent. Thunder Spear is looking hungry for battle, with a new, unblooded blade on his hip. Enna's party comes down from the hills with yet another fresh supply of game. With many a sour jest, they go back to stand in defense of the keep, taunting us with the fat doe they'll be sharing with the old ones, women, and children tonight in the comfort of the great hall.

MacMorna, having sworn a blood oath at Lughnasadh, is eager to ride. I have only known him as bard, not warrior, and it is still strange to see him in full battle array. He appears larger than life, a towering figure on horseback, armed with splendid weapons and an immaculate shield that bears an image of the Niafer owl. His ferocious glare matches the intent gaze of that predatory hunter. I motion for him to join me at the front of the war band.

Igraine and her hounds impatiently pace up and down the length of the assembly. When the bundled provisions arrive from the keep, she tosses strips of meat to her companions, which causes a flurry of puppy-like tailwagging and wriggling. A moment later they resume their dignified pacing, fortified for the task at hand.

Nevvyn is the eye of the storm, the single still point in the restless mass. He scowls at the sky, perhaps divining the weather or perhaps watching for significant omens concerning his missing daughter.

I feel the push of the crowd of warriors behind me. I have four fine spears and my best sword on me. All that's missing is Flidais, who would be riding by my side to war. I glance at the empty space where she would be, astride her favorite bronze mare bedecked with shining ornaments, weapons gleaming but not as dazzling as her beauty, afire with the thrill of a good fight. I touch the broken brooch and swear once again that whoever took her from me will not live to see Samhain.

It is time. I raise my fist and sing out the war cry.

(now to An Bothar)