When he left Fafnir, the trip home was an adventure. Padric was filled with confidence from his new experiences and the seax at his belt. He saw it as a test of his resolve and his abilities, eager to be home and show Eirwen his competence, prove to his father that he was a capable man. Worthless sentiments in the end, Padric saw that clearly now. The choice of returning to Fafnir was sound, but the prospect of passing the journey alone was not a welcome one. He knew this path now and while it was not wholly familiar to him, it had certainly lost the allure of adventure his childish fancies placed upon it some weeks ago.

He did not know why Rosheen had come with him and did not ask, for fear that she would see him as ungrateful and leave. He knew he was foolish in the ways of women and Rosheen puzzled him far more then Eirwen ever did. When Padric was a child, she was a fascinating and delightful playmate. She showed him the plants and animals that thrived in the lands around his village, often seeing him home well after dark. He grew and matured, while she remained unchanged, yet new things about her became captivating. Her wild hair, all tangled with braids and beads, shells and bones. Her lean, strong body, unclothed save for the intricate patterns of blue tribal markings that adorned her perfect skin. Ever-young and untamed, she became the focus of the lusty stirrings of early manhood. But she was his only friend, more like a sibling and the attraction towards her felt forbidden and shameful. He came to understand that she was immortal, a piskie, and that he did not truly want her, but yearned to find her amongst his own kind in the girls of the village. At last, after long years of loneliness, he found just that. Or so he thought. Now that was well and done, and Padric was on to a fresh life, far away from anything painful or familiar, except Rosheen…

“Are you finally awake?”

…who was always with him.