Donan Wood, near Glennfinnan, Scotland—December155?
Wind sighed bitterly through the forest, whispering tales of snow on mountaintops and in valleys, promising more by nightfall. The woman tugged at her cloak, pulling it more closely around the child that she carried on her hip. The satchel over her shoulder weighed little, but dragged at her still, and she hurried her steps even more. The path she followed was discernable only to one taught to recognize the small, hidden signs along the wayside; she smiled slightly as she remembered the first time, years past, that she had fled into Donan Wood. Need and desperation had ridden her hard that day, but now--now, joy and anticipation companioned her infrequent visits, especially this day. A small exclamation of triumph escaped her lips as she sighted the massive oak, twisted by wind and time, which marked the last few yards of her journey. It quickly changed to one of pain as a small, plump fist escaped the binding folds of her cloak and smacked her mouth.
"Here, now, ye ungrateful brat! Stop that, we're here and ye'd best behave!"
She caught the offending fist and kissed it ferociously, winning a delighted chuckle from the child. A cold fist of wind nudged the small of her back and pushed her last few steps around the bole of the ancient oak that stood in silent sentinel over a small cottage.The door stood open, the firelight from inside silhouetted the tall, slender woman standing there.
"I've been waiting for you!" she called. "Come, get yourself and the babe inside before the wind carries the two of you away!"
The women shared a quick, fierce embrace, laughing together as the child caught between them squalled a protest. "Here, Cassandra, take her, afore she tears my hair by the roots!" Mairead handed her daughter into the welcoming arms of the other woman, untangling small fingers from a lock of hair, and shrugging out of her moisture-laden cloak. "Tis fearsome cold out today!" She shivered dramatically, and crossed the room to hold her hands out to the fire. She shook her skirts; the falling drops hissed as they struck the fire, small flames leapt up, surrounding her body with a red glow as she turned to face her teacher. The other woman was staring fixedly at her.
"You should not have risked coming here, Mairead."
"Aye, I ken it." Mairead shook her skirts once more, and crossed the room to join Cassandra at a small table. "But I'll no hae another chance afore spring thaw, and well, 'tis almost Yule, and I've a gift for ye." She set the satchel on her lap and opened it, reaching in to retrieve a small clay pot. "Here's one." She said, setting it on the table. "And here's t'other." She pulled long swaths of material from the satchel, draping it over her arm. The muted blues and greens glowed warmly in the firelight, and Cassandra reached out a hand to stroke the length of woven plaid.
"Mairead, this is beautiful. And so soft. I thank you. Another blanket is most welcome."
Mairead laughed, and said "Aye, I ken how ye suffer in our cold winters. An' I ken how ye suffer wi' a sweet tooth, so-och, give that to me, ye wee imp!" She retrieved the small pot from chubby, inquiring fingers and set it out of the child's reach. "A wee pot o' honey to tide ye over 'til spring."
Cassandra set Mairi on the floor and reached over to fold her fingers around Mairead's. "Knowing that you care warms me more than any blanket. It has been a very long time since I taught such a willing student. There is no debt between us, Mairead."
"You gave me my Mairi's life this winter past, when she was sick wi' the fever-"
Cassandra shook her head. "Your healing skills saved her life."
"'Twas your teaching that gave me those skills!"
"It was your fearlessness and need to learn that brought you here to me!"
Brown eyes met green, stubbornness deep-seated in each. Mairead burst out laughing, and covered Cassandra's hand with her free one.
"Full circle." Cassandra said, smiling at her friend.
"Full circle." Mairead affirmed.
They settled comfortably after that, talking of women's' things and sharing bits of honey-smeared bread with Mairi as she played at their feet and under the table. Finally, Mairead reluctantly stood. "I must be going. 'Twill be dark soon and I must be home afore that."
Cassandra rose to her feet, gathering Mairi up for a last cuddle. "Are you afraid to be caught in the Wood after nightfall?"
Her voice was full of laughter. Mairead snorted. "No' me-but Calum would choke hisself wi' fear did he ken where I was. 'Tis worse than before, everyone believes ye to be a witch, ye ken."
"Do they?" Cassandra's voice was soft as the muddled warning she had seen earlier became clear. Mairead's hands stilled abruptly on the fastening of her cloak, her head came up and the two women's' eyes locked sharply. Cassandra reached over and laid a long-fingered hand on the other woman's cheek. "Listen to me, Mairead. Listen carefully. You will not return to Donan Wood again. There is danger here, and you must not risk yourself, or Mairi. Do you understand?"
"A-aye, I understand." Mairead spoke softly, her eyes focused on Cassandra's.
"You will not remember the signs, nor will you return to Donan wood. Say it."
"I will no' remember the signs...I will no' return to Donan Wood." Mairead replied obediently.
"Go carefully, Mairead. If you hurry, you will be home before full dark." Cassandra settled Mairi in her mother's arms and helped her wrap the child into its warm folds. She held the door open and Mairead did not notice that the other woman clung more tightly than usual as they embraced, nor did she see that Cassandra's fingers lingered on Mairi's cheek a little longer. Cassandra watched until mother and daughter disappeared from her sight around the oak, but Mairead did not look back, nor did she hear the whisper carried on the wind.
"Goodbye, my friend."
Late that night, Cassandra sat before the embers of the banked fire, Mairead's blanket across her knees. Despite its warm weight, she felt cold, scraped-out and hollow from the ending of the day. The compulsion that she had laid on Mairead would keep the headstrong young woman from the witch-finders' fires and save Mairi the loss of her mother, she knew the overall rightness of her decision deep in her bones. Still, some small part of her ached with loneliness, cried out against the sacrifice of a friendship barely begun.
"For a short time, she made the waiting bearable, and for that I am grateful."
She stood wearily, and wrapped the plaid around her shoulders, as she made her way across the room to the door, she paused at a small corner table long enough to light a single candle and whisper words in a language long forgotten by the world. The threatened storm had not materialized, and winter's cold breath had cleared the clouds. Cassandra stood silently; her face uplifted to the night sky, cleared her mind and heart, waited for the moment of Solstice. The moon hung brightly full, the stars wheeled silently in their eternal circle. A wordless cry tore from her throat, and she fell to her knees, hands reaching upwards, heedless of the bitter chill as the blanket slid away from her shoulders. The heavens rang, a deep chiming bell that vibrated through her bones and deep into the earth; from the arc of the midwinter sky; for the first time, the Witch of Donan Wood heard the singing of the Solstice stars.
Mairi is Gaelic for Mary...