Confetti Redemption
The day had been wet, harsh and lonely. Mairy had spent most of the day completing her toils on her own. Cait could not be roused from her spot by the hearth. The poor lamb seemed glazed over. The most she could manage was a waddle to the edge of the kitchen where Mairy had laid out a breakfast for her, a bit of thickened broth over brown bread and a bowl of fresh water. The she-hound had managed to lap up most of the serving and lick the water bowl dry. Mairy had refilled the water and cleaned up the rest of their breakfast remains before going out to see about tending to the rest of the daily tasks. At least with the rest of the pack gone there were fewer animals to tend and no need to muck out their area. The day had hung heavy with the promise of a rain that left her damp and uncomfortable. She had almost wished that nature would unleash its fury. It seemed that letting the heavens pour would be a release from the burdensome weight of the oppressive clouds and their dank hold over the day. It was a far cry from being just a summer day held down by the weight of an expectant storm. Those were unpalatable enough, but, no, this was the weight of a winter's storm, hanging in the cold air, waiting to add its considerable bite. It made the bones and the soul ache at the same time. It was enough to make a person want to rattle his fist in the air like a soldier rattling his sword and an unseen enemy daring the battle to come, if for no better reason that it seemed the fight would be better than the agony of waiting.
Returning to the cottage she found Cait crouching near the hearth. The hound was seemingly staring through the hearth, as if she could see beyond the stones to her heart's desire. It was unnerving sometimes the way Cait acted, like a lover desperately waiting for news of her man gone off to war. Mairy knew it was all fancy on her part, yet she remembered standing with the hound on the edge of the property where her Thom had last been and feeling bereft in his absence, and she sensed that Cait was letting the same feelings of longing and worry wash through her veins as well. 'Twas probably no more than the ramblings of a lonely wife sharing her days with a hound about to pup that brought on these odd shifts of mind. Surely that and the bond she had forged with Conn. My, how she missed that scraggy headed hound. She feared for him too. She knelt next to Cait and said a short prayer for the delivery of Thom, Conn and Coll, rubbing Cait's back before she rose to put a supper together.
She was tired, far too tired to make an effort to put together a real spread. With only herself and the hound to care for, it did not seem necessary to do much. She pulled out the couple of potatoes she had set aside the night before and quickly sliced and quartered them, putting them into her pot with a bit of fat and hefting it over to the fire. Returning to the kitchen she took up a banger and sliced it quickly, added a twice quartered onion and some garlic and took these to the pot. She watched as these began to brown and then added a bit of water, just enough to create a stew to serve herself and Cait. Then she busied herself making a flat of biscuits. It had been sometime and she knew the hounds enjoyed them. She could bank the fire and set them to baking after she took off the stew. Finally, she put the kettle on to boil. Her tea made, she curled into her chair and edged into the end of her book, sighing. She would have liked to share this with Conn. She looked down at Cait. She had curled nearly full in on herself, or as far as she could get with that enormous belly in the way. It was unlikely that Cait would be listening to the story this afternoon.
Mairy let herself slide into the story, let it wrap its arms around her and pull her in. It was why she loved to read. A good book built a place for you inside it and let you reside in the story, not as a character of your own, but in it nonetheless. Your part was to see and feel the story from all angles, to participate in it as fully as the characters themselves, letting its interior meanings take root in your own life and she fancied sometimes that you left your mark on the book as well. Your sensibilities, needs, ethics and reactions somehow touching the characters and plots, so that when and if you read it again, it would be just a shade different, having been touched by what you gave to it when you read it last. She laughed; if it was nonsense then it was hers, and no one else needed to know of it.
The stew was rich in the air, time to test its thickness and give it a good stir. She rose, taking the tea things to the kitchen and getting her towel and ladle. Turning back to the hearth she noticed abruptly that Cait had turned and her breathing was no longer deep, it was shallow and seemed troubled. She moved to the hound quickly. It was too early for her pups to be coming, though nothing about this seeding had proven normal so far. She had gained in size far too quickly, that much was certain. She checked the hound's eyes, they were glazed in pain and fear. This was Cait's first litter, so the fear seemed natural enough. She could only imagine the fear should she ever bear a child. It doesna' really help knowin' a thing, not when ye are faced with the sharp edge of it.
As Mairy slicked her hand down Cait's back, she could feel the life moving inside of her. She wasn't sure, but it certainly seemed like it might be the hound's time. She stood and checked the stew. Going back to the kitchen she brought out a bowl and a large pitcher of water. She spooned out some stew for herself and then added the water, turning the stew predominantly to broth. She didna know how long this would take, but she doubted there would be time for cookin' as they went. She went back to the cupboards and rummaged for her oldest clean linens and rags. Then she went to the hound and shifted her, made a nest for the mother-to-be and settled her back in front of the fire. All she could do now was wait and help as best she could as nature took its course. She lifted her book and tried to concentrate as the sounds of Cait's struggle to bring her pups into the world began to rise in the small space.
Coll and Conn caught the scent almost in unison. It was strong, rich and pumping with life. The musk almost over-powered all other scents, it was such a heady aroma. A stag, a very large stag one would assume based on the sheer volume and density of the scent trail, was theirs for the taking. The hounds caught each other's eye. The hunt was on. Despite the need to flee the area this hunt was an ingrained need. Their desire to find and bring down the stag overrode any instinct to continue their dash to safety. It overcame their caution when it came to getting caught by the hunter themselves. The stag had become a prize above all others and they would find it and bend it to their will, slake their thirst upon it. The saliva was already pooling in their maws. They could taste it, wet and full, ready to burst open with flavor, the stag's throat already a visceral, tangible thing in their teeth.
They scented the area together and then padded off silently. They were roughly twenty feet apart as they followed the urgency that thrummed through their veins.
Thom found himself watching the small red hound most intently. He worked his way through the woods, avoiding the briar and the bramble, passing as quietly as possible. They moved at a fairly rapid pace despite the hounds that were burdened with the extra drag of the meat-laden rigging. He kept looking for signs of Coll and Conn's passage, but he did not find any. He was relying solely on the forward movement of the pack, which seemed to be following a trail that the red had the best nose for. Thom's mind began to wander. He found himself thinking more and more about the comforts of home. He would be glad to be done with this hunt, to be buried in the heavy weather and set-in with Mairy for the duration. There in their little patch they could bide the time, just the two of them. A warm fire, a book in Mairy's lap and Thom in his chair. Aye, they would talk and Mairy would weave him a tale or two as the fire died down 'til it was time to be a-bed. His smile hovered on his face as he let himself muse over what he would find on his homecoming. The baying of hounds interrupted his reverie, bringing his head up short as he tried to discern why they might be raising the alarm. His heart quickened; perhaps his homecoming might be a bit more blessed after all. Unable to figure out precisely what was driving their racket, he picked up his pace, perhaps his luck had changed and they had actually sighted the two wayward members of the pack.
As they drove, the air in the car seemed to become thinner. With every mile they traversed their breath grew shorter, their lungs more restricted. It was as if the passage was siphoning off the oxygen in the car. Finally Roary could make it no farther and he pulled off at the nearest roundabout. He clambered out of the car panting for breath.
"It feels like something is sucking the air right out of me," gasped Lin as she joined him.
"Aye, 'tis not natural."
"Perhaps we should put everything in our packs good and tight and keep all the windows down?" inquired Fiona as she made her way to their side.
"I've been drivin' with the window down fer the last hour," grumbled Roary.
"I know, but if all the windows are opened then maybe that would help?"
"Well, we can't stay here. We have to get back, anything could be happening to the boys," stated Lin in desperation.
"Aye, or to the swans. If that wing has healed, they could be gone." Roary replied flatly.
Lin gasped. She had never even thought to consider that risk. "We have to go. We have to keep going."
She rushed back to the car. Taking a deep breath she got back in and stuffed anything that was loose into her pack. There wasn't much, a few bits of paper from their travels, one of her gloves, some pens. She tied the pack closed and rolled down her window. Fiona climbed in and cleared the back seat, then rolled down both windows. Roary simply lowered himself into the driver's seat with a long protracted sigh.
"May the saints preserve us and the fair folk lend us aid on our path," he imparted and then he started the car and swung back onto the roundabout and onward toward his home and their journey's end.
The sucking pull at their chests began almost immediately, yet somehow it was not as strong, not as binding upon them. It felt like a minor chest cold this time. They each fought it on their own, all prepared to press through - to reach the strand.
Cait was whimpering and shivering. Her coat was soaked with sweat. There was nothing about this birthing that was progressing normally. Mairy had had another cup of tea and managed to soothe Cait earlier in the day, even getting about a cup of broth into the struggling mother. Afterward, the she-hound had dozed for a bit, her legs jutting straight as the contractions hit her in her sleep, then relaxing. It looked oddly like she was jumping hedges in her dream. Then Mairy noticed a small trickle of blood. ' Twasn't much, but she had not expected the poor thing to bleed like that. She could see the pups turning through the thin skin veil of Cait's stomach. It looked as if they were jockeying for position. Mairy had leaned down to mop Cait's muzzle when the hound's eyes shot open. There she was almost eye to eye with her. The sudden full contact shocked her so much that she fell back onto her rump.
Then Cait began to breathe heavier and Mairy knew it was time. Her eyes were locked with the hound's and she could almost feel the blend of fear and expectation that rippled through her as she tried to push the new life from her heaving body. Mairy tore her gaze away from Cait's, stroking her side to move where she could check the birthing progress. The pup had crowned and was just inching its way into the world. Cait spasmed again, a sharp howl escaping her as the internal drive propelled her through another thrust. Mairy's eyes glazed with tears as the pup found its way into the world. It was a marvel. She did not remember ever seeing a newborn hound of such size. It could easily be mistaken for one as much as a month old. Her hands itched to reach for it, but she knew better than to touch it before it had been cleaned and suckled by its mother. Cait needed to claim it as her own.
They had tracked the stag. Standing downwind, they could see it through the branches of the large oak that covered them. In silence they separated, each circling for a better position from which to approach the attack. They did not have the benefit of the full pack to enable an easy cornering of their prey. They would need to work in careful tandem to bring him down. He was a glorious beast, easily two hands bigger than any they had tracked before, his full chest and round muscled rump clear measures of his strength. The two hounds let instinct guide them. Their jaws were already slack with saliva, more than ready to feel the depth of their bite into the magnificent stag's flesh as it surrendered to them.
Conn rushed the animal first, sending it careening off to the left, forcing Coll to race from his cover and block its effort to escape. The stag practically reared, double tapping its front hooves as it turned to bolt off to its right. Coll raced after it, knowing Conn would be moving in to block its path. The grey increased his pace, veering slightly to the side trying to gain a parallel path. The beast caught sight of Conn charging it and moved again, this time bolting along the line of the path Coll had taken. Coll could feel his muscles move to join with the singing in his veins as he began to close on the stag. His pace was quickening. His eyes locked onto the base of the animal's throat. He could feel the saliva thinning and sliding loosely from his maw. It was in this moment, the moment just before the strike, that he heard it. He heard Cait's sharp howl. His pace faltered. A brief image of Cait flickered in front of him erasing the stag. An image of Cait panting and heaving. His pups were coming. Then the rush of the hunt flooded him anew, fed by the rush of the vision. But the stag had turned again and his chance at its throat had passed.
The red was circling, the rest of the pack had set up the howl and were pawing the ground. Thom eyed the odd spectacle and then edged his way in to the red. On the ground was an area where the leafy debris had been disturbed and above on a bit of bramble a tiny tuft of blond fur was snagged. It seemed they had picked up the trail again. He gingerly plucked off the bit of fur and gave the red a good scent of it and a scratch behind the ears. Tucking the tuft in his jacket pocket he signaled the pack and they moved on. This time it felt less as if they were groping their way, more as if each hound had the scent. They spread out again, weaving in their typical pattern. He felt buoyant, almost jubilant. It seemed that he would be going home to Mairy with more than just meat for the larder, he would be bringing home Conn as well. The burden he had been carrying was no more heavy than the pack on his back, and that he knew how to shoulder well.
After a time, it became clear that the hounds were excited about more than just the scent of the two hounds they were tracking. They were following game as well. Thom only hoped it would not lead them off the track of Conn and Coll. This was one time where he truly did not care if they found the largest stag in the forest, he wanted the hounds back first. The red seemed focused though, and he held his hopes high as they padded silently through the dense woody area.
The hounds slowed and then stopped, leaning back on their haunches and cocking their heads to the side. Thom wandered up into the middle of the pack, listening with them. They stood there silently, until he picked up on it. The sound of hooves, not running in a direct path, but a cutting motion. Perhaps Coll and Conn were in the middle of a hunt. If so, they had a sizable beast on their hands. That could bode well for Thom, it might just give him the upper hand in surprising them and finding a way to bring them back under his wing.
The pull of the sea carried them over the crags and rocks and along the twisted turns of the cavern's entrance. Its echoing reverberations setting the tone of expectation higher by fractions with every step that carried them closer to their goal. Following the slit of the penlight that Roary carried, the trio moved into the cavern. Here the roar of the waves was reduced to the lapping of the gentle pool that fed the cavern. Lin remembered well how different the sea's face became when you moved out from this calm place and onto the ledge She flashed briefly on herself fishing for seaweed. Then the image became that of Sean disappearing over the top of the crag the day he found the brooch. She closed her eyes, wishing that that day had never come, that she had never brought her boys to this place at that time. She reached out and clasped Fiona's hand, Roary in turn reached out for hers. They moved down this way, connected, drawing strength from each other. Lin thought for a moment that if it were possible to move forward without stumbling, her mother and Roary might even have joined hands. It seemed odd, yet somehow incredibly normal, how much they were leaning on and toward each other now at the end of the journey. All this slipped through her mind in the fragment of time it took for their eyes to adjust to the light in the cavern.
The first thing she registered was how beautiful the little space truly was with the light reflecting in the water and the bits of shiny rock where the sea and sun met. Then the bile began to rise in the back of her throat as she realized that there was something very important missing from the lovely picture in front of her.
A soft almost mewing noise, as close to a ghostlike keening Roary had ever heard, rose up his spine. He realized it was coming from Fiona and let go of Lin's hand to circle round to her mother.
"Not here, " keened Fiona.
"Hush, we don't know for sure where the bird is just yet," said Roary.
Lin moved slowly down to the water's edge, "No, not here," she echoed Fiona's lament.
Mairy gaped in awe as Cait continued to struggle with the forces of nature. The form of another pup writhed inside her and pressed for relief. A paw slipped into view. "Och, no lass, this is no the way a pup should come into the world." Mairy pressed on Cait and pushed the paw back in. She moved quickly then to wash her hands and gather more linen. By the time she had returned Cait had gone to shivering and whimpering. Mairy bent down to lock eyes with her. "We'll have none of that, Miss Cait. Ye are going to take care of yer fine young pups, not me."
With determination, Mairy moved between Cait's hind legs. The second pup must have torn something when it thrust through with its paw as Cait's blood was drenching the birthing bed. Mairy retrieved the cooled kettle from the kitchen. It would be better warmed but at least it was clean water. She knelt again and cleaned what she could of the blood away, enough to try and see what she was going to try to do. She shoved her sleeves up, then gave up and stood, stripping down to her shift as fast as possible. Her arm clear now, she sluiced Cait down again and with a whispered prayer slowly eased her hand into the birthing canal with the pup. She felt around gingerly and finding no obstruction she could name she gathered the legs together and began to pull. Cait seized and the blood began to flow in earnest. "Och no, he canna come this way then can he?" Mairy felt again. She had never tried to do anything close to what she was considering. But she had to try. The pup's legs were all that were really loose so far. She reached in with both arms. Slick now with blood, she began to try to thread him back. The pup kicked a bit but gradually he returned to the womb. Then she let one hand follow him in and prayed she had it in her. Groping blindly she felt along the pup's body from the inside, then she used her other hand to feel its outline from the outside. A cool breeze swept across her as she found the head and gently began to massage it round, trying to keep track of the paws as she did so. Finally, she prayed it was the head at the entrance to the world and pressed down on Cait trying to help her deliver. Every thrust came with more blood. "I canna lose ye, girl. Deliver the pup so I can try to take care of ye," crooned Mairy. Soon the litany, "Deliver the pup" was blended with the whimpers and howls of the hound as she struggled to complete this task.
The Stag had reared away from Coll and begun to run in what appeared to be a clear path out of danger. Its sense of relief was palpable. The grey had faltered and the menacing blond was nowhere in sight. It raced for freedom and for its life. An opening through the trees perhaps ten feet ahead. Once there it would be able to block its pursuers with the grace of the trees and be gone, be safe. Conn reeled for a moment at the loss. He had been certain that Coll had the death strike, then suddenly the stag was free and out of their box. His pause almost lost them the chase as much as Coll's falter lost them the kill. Then he adjusted. He would have this prize. He moved off to the left of the bolting stag, staying just out of its range of vision. He pressed his speed and circled, noting that Coll had done the same. They would cut it off just before it reached the trees. He felt incredibly powerful, the blood-lust spurring him on to greater strength. Every muscle in his powerful body met his urge and he flew across the ground gaining ground, knowing that there was no escape for his intended victim. He felt more alive then he ever had before.
The stag was there, just steps from breaking free, from escaping the trap. He had not lived this long to be brought down so ingloriously. He was better than these two hounds, he was a king of his realm, he wore a crown of victory. His breast was beating with the knowledge that he had won this battle when he caught the movement of a grey shadow from the left. He moved swiftly to the right. He could still make it out, the grey would not be able to catch him. As he moved he just managed to make out the blur of the blond hound moving in on him. He ducked his head down as the blond leapt at him. Conn felt the tip of the antler as it ripped across the paw that had already been injured, but he barely noticed the pain as he rolled from the ground and leapt to strike. His jaws wide, the stag's throat exposed perfectly as he came from underneath. He could feel his teeth begin to sink in as his front claws raked its hide.
"No, not here."
The way she said it was enough to draw the others to the mouth of the cavern. The plaintive hue at the edge of her voice carried a message that sent a feeling of loss into them. They edged together to peer out onto the shallow waves. What they saw sent their hearts plummeting. All three swans rocked together on the sea, their wings interlocked, heads intertwined as if sleeping in a muted embrace.
"Are we too late?" whispered Lin in pale anguish.
"Not while they are still here," answered Fiona.
"But how can I bind them out there?"
"Can we get them to come to us?" Fiona's voice cracked as she asked, her fear so tangible that each felt its weight.
"Seems doubtful that they'd come to land. I don't think I've ever seen the other two inside the cavern," replied Roary.
They stood for a moment. "They are so far out. I have no idea how deep it is where they are, but I have to try to go to them," stated Lin with resolution in her voice.
Lin turned and strode back to the small ledge where once, in a time that seemed like another life, she had divided her cheese and bread while hiding out from a storm. She opened the pack and unwound the two silks that she bore. She began to tie them together. Roary stepped in and took them from her using what skill he had to tie them into tighter knots. He turned to Fiona, hand extended, and she pulled the indigo silk from her pocket. She gave it a final deep inhale and a kiss and then handed it over, her hand crushing hard on the smooth stone in her pocket. She did not seem to notice the tears that flowed down her cheeks. He tied the last scarf firmly to the others, crimson to amber, amber to indigo, pulling at the lengths to test the strength of his efforts. Finally satisfied, he returned them to Lin. She wound them loop over loop around her neck and then took out the brooch, searching for a pocket that would be safe and yet easy to reach in the cold sea. Finally she held it in her hand, "I'm ready."
"Yer not going out in that tow by yerself."
"There is no choice. Aiofe set the geasa on me. I have to finish this if we are to get the boys back."
"Aye, but I'll see that you get there at least."
"We both will."
"But I don't want you at risk too," whined Lin.
"You don't have much choice," snapped Fiona. "We are doing this together, as far as we can."
They linked hands then and waded into the sea, Lin holding on to Roary, Roary holding onto Fiona. They walked out as far as they could, stretching their arms and bracing themselves, realizing finally that the sea was actually calm in the little cove of the cavern. Lin turned and smiled, "It's time." She put the brooch in her mouth, knowing she would need both hands to wind the scarf, and stepped out to walk the last few paces to the swans who had yet to have noticed their arrival. The ground under her feet was pebbled but not difficult to manage. Roary and Fiona moved to stand together, hands still clasped.
Lin took a deep breath and stepped forward, her confidence growing. She moved again. As she took the third step, she heard rather than saw the huge wave that cast itself up as if from nowhere and moved to engulf her. One moment the sea was a tranquil ally and the next she was beneath it in a roiling coil that sucked at her clothes and pulled at her hair. It was as if the sea had hands that were tugging solely at her. The tow caught at the silk about her neck and began to pull. Her throat was caught in its vise-like grip. She pressed against the pull but it only made the silk grip tighter. In desperation she pulled on the other end, beginning to unravel it from her neck. The pulse of the waves pulling at her seemed to increase as the silk began to come free. Frantically she rapped it round her hand, one of Roary's knots held in her palm. The water battered her now, the pin in her mouth pricking her cheeks and her tongue as it it sought release. The need to breathe was almost unbearable, the urge to open her mouth immense. But she knew she would gain only seawater and likely lose the brooch. She would not lose the silk or the brooch.
Roary and Fiona watched the wave take Lin down. They moved in tandem, each attempting to dive in and each holding the other back. It was no natural wave and they would not be able to reach her. This was Lin's battle. They stood locked in a battle with themselves as they waited for Lin to surface.
Lin pulled at the silk, kicking in the direction of the pulling waves. She cursed at the malefactor who was trying to prevent her from finishing her task. Finally when she thought she would perish she simply cried the names of her boys and hugged what she could of the silk to her, ready to breathe her last with their names on her lips. Surrendering, she found herself callously tossed against the craggy edge of the cavern. She used her free hand to pull herself shoulder high above the waves and breathe. Taking sight of where she was, she pressed on. Hand over hand she pulled herself along the crags and to the swans. When she was but a handspan away, one lone neck rose and a black eye greeted her. She would have known that eye anywhere. She hummed the tune she had learned so long ago under her breath and the other necks slowly rose in greeting.
She moved to the swans and they held her gaze. Taking the sea-drenched silks, she began to weave them around the graceful necks. There was just enough silk to create three full interlocking loops. Then she steadied herself and pulled the bloodied brooch from her mouth. She looked each swan in the eye and they back at hers. "I do so hope this truly heals you and brings you back any joy you have lost." There were tears coursing down Lin's cheeks as she bent to place the pin into the silks and bind the swans together.
The pup slid into the world as if he had never caused a bit of problem. Cait, still bleeding as she was, eagerly moved to clean and nudge her pups to suckle. Mairy in the meantime was hard pressed to figure out what to do to stop the young she-hound from bleeding-out and leaving her new family without a mother. She used the water to clean her up and gently apologized to the hound as she reached inside again. She found the tear easily enough, the second pup had dug a trench in its mother's birth canal and the opening as it tried to paw its way out of her. Mairy went for her sutures. She would be sewing blind, but better that than trying to cauterize it. She worried that Cait would not let her do the work, painful as it would likely be and as unnatural as it would seem. But the she-hound just gave her a soulful look from those liquid eyes of hers and continued to lathe her pups.
By the time Mairy had completed her surgery, such as it was, and had cleaned up both the mother and herself, the two pups were sated and settled. She marveled again at the size of them. And then it struck her, these truly were no ordinary hounds. Ye would not normally know so early on what the coloring of a hound would be, they came into that given time - sometimes hours, sometimes days. But these two, they were clearly a blond and a grey, miniature twins for Conn and Coll. Mairy poured herself a nip of whiskey and sat on the floor beside the new family, renewed by the birth and somehow saddened. For it seemed to her that these two pups were almost proof that they would never see the larger pair again.
Thom came upon the clearing just as Conn made the leap. He saw the stag's horn tear the hound's paw. He could see Coll moving in to leap onto its hindquarters and pin it down. Then he saw the grey cock its head to the side, as it for a moment it was no longer thinking of the hunt. The stag was turning back to Conn. If the hound did not execute a perfect strike, or Coll did not give it something to think about by pinning it down, the stag would be in a position to lock its horns into the blond's chest.
Thom pulled up the rifle, loaded it quickly and aimed. He knew his shot was dangerous, that if he was off aim, he could just as easily take down Conn. But he was not in the right position to have a certain death shot to the heart, so he shot for the brain. Too low and it could be Conn. He steadied his aim and fired, his prayer flowing out as the gun retorted.
Lin let the pin slip through the silk and stepped back. At first she was disappointed, all she saw were three lovely birds looking rather silly dressed in the wet silks that draped around them in looping colored waves. But then the sea began to rise. Not like the wave that had taken her down, more a thin curtain of colors that slowly formed itself into a man. As the form took shape, it moved from a man made mostly of seaweeds and coral to an old man infirm and bent, then finally the form that stayed with them - a younger man with a mane of dark curling hair and deep sea-blue eyes. Next to him was the gossamer form of Aiofe, her dress a swirl of shifting color, crimson, amber, indigo and emerald, beautiful but insubstantial. The swans saw the man and lifted their voices. The beautiful voices from her night in the cavern. As they sang, they lifted from the water, the silks unfolding to drape over them. Their wings spread wide and throats extended, the surreal beauty of their voices provided the perfect foil for their metamorphosis as the feather-tipped wings gave way to finger-tipped arms and the long white necks were thickened and the slender birds' heads replaced by the children's faces. They simply seemed to unfold from within the swans' forms and into themselves, finally settling to stand in the water, their arms wrapped around one another, voices still raised in song. Their father's arms outstretched as he surged forward to them, Aiofe still hovering insubstantially at the edge. Her eyes pooled with tears. He turned briefly and took her hand, then continued his surge toward the children. They stood in a full embrace. It was a moment that really cannot be captured in words. It was pristine in its innocence. Then they all just seemed to break apart - to come undone, like little bits of gem-stone colored sea spray, even Aiofe, until all that was left was the sound of the waves in the cavern, the glint of the sun on the sea and trio who stood there, eyes full of wonder and tears.
Just before the scene faded, they caught each other's eye and left the vision of sea-spray confetti to rush toward the cavern's exit and hopefully the boys.
Whew!
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