I came back more slowly. Halfway along the beach, the sea had cast up a treasure trove of shells, each more beautiful than the last. I sat on the sand and held first one, then another in my hand, marveling at these tiny, convoluted homes that had each sheltered some small creature of the sea. For I was the daughter of the forest, and for all my growing years had not ventured far from its enveloping arms, had not imagined the wonder, the strangeness of the ocean and its secret life. The shell in my hand had been split open by some great storm; inside, it held chamber on chamber, each lined with a shimmering, pearly coat fit for a queen’s adornment. It was truly wondrous. I sat there a long time, looking and dreaming, my thoughts growing distant from that place, my spirit turned inward. And then—and then—how can I describe the moment? A voice in my head, not the one that tormented me, nor the one that spoke sense and woke me up; a voice not heard for a long time, such a long time.

Sorcha. Sorcha, I am here. I’m here, little owl.

Conor? I scarcely dared think his name, hardly dared call him, in case the moment was lost. I stared into the sky, out over the water. There was a lone bird there, wide wings spread, circling, gliding.

Conor? Is it really you?

Listen carefully. I can speak only a little, then I must be gone.

The others—where are they? Why didn’t—

Hush, little owl. Just listen.

I stilled my thoughts, made my mind empty and open.

That’s good. Tell me, will I find you here, at midsummer?

No. I pictured the valley of Harrowfield, as closely as I could, trying to show him where it lay, over the hills, down to the southeast. How would a swan fly to Harrowfield? A swan does not go by tracks, and bridges, and paths under trees.

I see this place. Who is he, who guards you? Why have you come here, across the water? It is far, too far for us.

I felt tears coming to my eyes, and my throat ached. I did not answer him.

Are the shirts made? Will you be ready, by midsummer?

The tears began to fall. No. There is one yet to make, and part of another.

Don’t weep, little sister. I will be there. At Meán Samhraidh wait for me. I will come there.

I felt him withdraw his thoughts, delicately, from my mind. He had ever been the most skillful of us at this. I saw the bird circle once more, and with a powerful beat of its white wings, sail off into the west. I was alone again. But not alone, for they still lived. I would see them again, soon, so soon, for it was already May. I had not recognized, until then, how close I had come to believing the task fruitless.

Thank you, I said silently. Thank you, oh thank you. But to whom I spoke, I could not say. There was a power around me so strong it could almost be touched, a strength in the waves and the rocks and the strange sea creatures with their gentle eyes. I had heard my brother’s voice because of this, because of where I was. But I had not forgotten who brought me there.