She was exactly where the boy had foreseen she would be. They gathered around, hooded due to the early morning chill as well as a habitual desire to conceal themselves even though the Druids were no longer a hunted people in Camelot.
In the midst of the small party, their leader knelt beside her limp form lying on a bed of last year's dried leaves where she appeared to have staggered and fallen. The forest was cold this early in spring, but the temperature did not account for the pallor of the woman's skin. Her perfect features were drained of blood and ice cold, stark against the raven-black hair and black clothing. He threw back the cowl of his cloak which normally obscured his sharp features and grey hair, and checked to see if she lived.
Kneeling beside the woman's body, the elder looked up at the others. "She breathes, but only just."
At his confirmation, the group moved to lift her nearly lifeless form, carrying her back to the shelter of their cave. Although they no longer had to live secretly, this refuge remained a special place.
She was laid as comfortably as possible atop a large smooth stone the size of a bed. Candles chased back the dark shadows, incense filled the cavern with scent, and totems of the Old Religion hung throughout the space.
Only three of the Druid healers cared for her directly, but a dozen others looked on, fascinated by her clothing and her face as much as by the fact that she was a High Priestess. The fine cloth of the woman's black mourning clothes, although tattered, was much richer than the rough linens they wore and the lines of her patrician features set her apart from them.
The boy who had known where to find her stood grouped with the other onlookers, his young face wrinkled in concern.
One of the healers, an elder whose ability with healing magic was renowned among them, swiped a hand across her brow and stepped back with relief. She gestured to the boy to come forward, knowing that when the woman woke it would be best if she saw a familiar face in this strange place.
The boy's bright blue eyes were fixed on the ashen face of the woman as her eyelids fluttered, then opened.
Her gaze fell on the child's face and a smile of wonderment lit her pale features. "Mordred?"
The boy smiled back. "Hello, Morgana."
