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all
happened a long time ago."
    "This sound more and more like a past life," mused
the Elder. "Was there more to the dream?"
    "Yes, I saw what happened to my child. The men with
my baby taunted him and scorched his flesh in the flames. There was
a ceremony and a tall creature in a wolf mask drove..." Myshia
quivered and shook visibly, but rallied and gathered herself
together. "They drove a stake into his chest then threw him into
the flames. He was shrieking.
    "That was when I saw the Currach," she continued. "I
floated like I was underwater down from the tree that I had been
watching from. Someone emerged from the shadows and he turned to
face me. I know it was this Currach, just like I know it was my
child they burnt."
    "What did the Currach do, Myshia, what did he
do?"
    "I don't know. I woke up."
    The Elder mulled over her words. "I don't know what
to make of this. Astral travel is a powerful gift and I see it
developing in your dreams. Someday you may have mastery over it. As
to the Currach I cannot say, he could be a number of things." He
glanced over at the sleeping form. "Did you sense any malice in his
figure in your dream?"
    "I felt no feelings toward him. His appearance was
brief."
    "In time I think we shall know. Maybe next time you
dream."
    Myshia shivered. Brief remnants of the dreams still
flashed in her mind's eye, reliving that moment of anguish and
pain. "I hate that dream," she whispered.
    The Elder appeared not to have heard. "As you near
child-bearing age the dreams will climax, for that is when the
residing spirit in you will emerge. Your dream teacher is trying to
get you to wake up to something, but what? In all my years I have
never seen such a resident spirit emerge in such a dynamic manner."
The Elder sank lower and his lidless eyes glazed in thought as he
drew deeply on the Jawkra pipe. "Your child will be a child of
power inherited from an old spirit..."
    His voice trailed off as he considered the
thought.
    Myshia's voice was hesitant. "Of the ancient
ones?"
    The Elder looked up, a sharp gleam in his eye. "A
child of the ancient ones? Now that would be interesting." He was
startled when he heard Myshia sob.
    The Elder saw his mistake immediately. "I did not
mean it to sound like that. I don't mean interesting as in some
sort of freak parade. No, I mean it could turn the course of the
world." His sharp experienced eyes noticed the shudder passing
through her shoulders. "Have no fear, my child. I will keep your
confidence. I shall be with you every step of the way to aid you.
Just remember to face your future. Do not shy away from your
destiny."
    The Elder sat back on his haunches, remembered
Myshia's mother had been about to remove her growing foetus with a
blade, fearing she would give birth to the abomination she had seen
in her dreams. But the Elder had convinced her to keep the baby,
and the birth had proceeded naturally. The child grew healthy and
strong, but only weeks later Myshia's mother was found dead at the
water pool: she had slit her own throat, the bloody knife balanced
between limb fingers. Myshia knew nothing of this terrible
experience and the Elder believed it was best kept from her.
    Shaking himself, the Elder broke away from his
memories. He stood, old bones cricking and popping, and plucked up
a heavy fur skin. He lay it over Myshia's shoulders, comforting her
with his callused yet soft hands.
    Myshia raised her eyes, her heart heavy in her chest.
She had laid aside the bowl of soup, no longer feeling she could
stomach it. Instead she chose to change the subject. "Tell me of
the ancient ones," she asked, longing to hear a tale from the
wizened old Eloprin, wanting to drift off to sleep with his words
in her ears like it had been so many years before in her
childhood.
    "Ah, a tale!" burst the Elder with glee. "It's been a
while since anyone has asked me for one." He placed himself
comfortably, the light of the fire dancing on the side of his face,
the other half in darkness. "The