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best to remember everything Broichan had taught him, not just the words of the lore, which he sometimes only half understood, but the meanings behind them. The waxing and waning moon governed water, and was like the tides in the spirit, both strong and pliant. Water was storm, flood, rain for crops; thehot saltiness of tears. Water could roar in a great torrent, a mighty fall from precipice to gorge, or lie still and silent, waiting, as in the Dark Mirror. Then there was fire, powerful and consuming. The life-giving warmth of the hearth fire could keep a man alive; the unchecked raging of wildfire could kill him. The Flamekeeper’s special gift to men was the fire in the heart: a courage that couldburn on even in the face of death. Air was chill with the promise of snow, carrying the scent of pines. Air supported the eagle’s flight, high above the dark folds of the Great Glen. Bridei could feel how it was for the eagle as he looked down over the land of Fortriu in all its grandeur. His land. His place. Earth was the deep heartbeat under his feet, the living, knowing body from whence allsprang, deer, eagle, squirrel, shining salmon, bright-eyed corbie, man and woman and child, and the other ones, the Good Folk. Earth held him up; earth was ready to take him back when his time was done. Earth could make a house or form a track; earth could blanket a warrior’s long slumber. There was a whole world of meaning in the smallest things: a burned twig, a white pebble, a feather, a drop ofrain.
    There were certain rules that must be followed when Bridei went out alone. He could climb Eagle Scar, as long as he was careful. He could traverse the woods as far as the second stream to the south. He was not permitted to approach the settlement or to venture on foot to the wilder reaches of the forest, where he had stumbled on the Vale of the Fallen. When he asked Donal why not, the warriorsimply said, “It’s not safe.” Because Donal invariably showed both common sense and kindness, Bridei accepted this rule. Hesuspected it had something to do with the Good Folk. Besides, there were his father’s parting words, never to be forgotten:
Obey, learn
. He wandered the tracks, climbed rocks and trees, found a badger’s lair and an eagle’s abandoned nest and a frozen waterfall of fragile,knife-edged filigree. He met not a living soul.
    That changed abruptly one afternoon as he was making his way home from a hunting expedition. Well, perhaps not really hunting; he had his bow over his shoulder and his little knife at his belt, but he did not really intend to use either. He’d killed a rabbit not so many days ago, but Donal had been with him then. Much to Bridei’s relief, his shothad taken the quarry cleanly; there had been no need for the knife. Bridei, a child who had a great deal of time for thinking, knew it could have been different.
    Today he had brought his weapons because it made sense to have them, that was all. Didn’t Donal and the others always carry a wee knife in the boot? All Bridei had wanted to do was go up as far as the birch woods and sit on the stonesby the big waterfall, the one they called the Lady’s Veil, and watch for the eagles. The mountains wore caps of early snow, and the waters of the lake reflected the pale slate of the winter sky. The calls of birds were mournful, echoing across the distant reaches of the forest in lamenting question and answer. Perhaps it was the cold that made them cry so; how would they find food in winter, withthe berries shriveled on the brown-leaved bushes, and the sweet grasses carpeted in snow? Perhaps they simply cried to make a music fit for this grand, empty place. Winter must come, after all; the wild creatures knew that as Bridei did. Winter was sleeping time for the earth, dreaming time, a preparation for what was to follow. That had been one of Broichan’s earliest lessons. At such a time, aboy should be open to his imaginings, to voices that might be stifled by the