"We have always known the gods are everywhere, Annwyl, but in the marshes there are places of mystery and power where they can more easily be found." The Lady of Cysgodion dipped her alder paddle in the dark waters as she spoke, easing their small marsh boat through the tall reeds. Annwyl, a young girl of six summers, sat in the bow, immersed in her mother's tale.
"Is it really a dragon's belly, Mam?" she asked. Her eyes were fixed on a large green and blue dragonfly that had come to rest on the bow.
Vivian smiled. "We will be there soon, Little One, then you may see for yourself."
The marshes were young then. Not many women had yet carried the name of Vivian, nor borne the duties of the Lady. Yet some things were already ancient as we reckon time . . . |
