The birds are already awake, sweetening the air with their song. Nighttime animals scuttle to their burrows and lairs, making way for the heavier tread of those who go abroad in daylight hours. My progress is slow, as I must halt frequently to allow my body to cramp or surge. I am wearing a loose linen kirtle and carry a soft woolen blanket and my knife. I need nothing more. Placing my palm over my heaving belly I whisper, ‘Be patient, little one.’ I continue through the copse to the secluded spot on the shore of the lake I have chosen. Here the ground slopes gently into the water, and the earth is sandy with few stones and no reeds or rushes, so that after some effort I am able to lie down comfortably enough. The second I immerse my body in the silky waters of Llyn Syfaddan, I feel my pains ease. The child continues to move inside me as it should, but my suffering is greatly reduced by the magical properties of the sacred lake. I have foreseen this moment. I have nothing to fear. And whatever my prince might secretly wish for, I know that my babe is a girl. I have chosen not to share this knowledge with him. Let him hold his infant in his arms, let him gaze into her eyes, let him feel her tiny heart beat strong and brave in her breast—he will have no room in his soul for disappointment then.

As I work to bring my child into this world, I can feel vibrations through the water and I know the Afanc is near. She has come to witness the birth of a new witch. Knowing that she is with me gives me strength. I do not want to cry out, for to do so might give me away. There have been no further attempts on my life, but I have scarce been on my own, and here and now I am certainly at my most vulnerable. I close my eyes and quiet my clamoring thoughts. I bring my will and my strength to bear and with neither fuss nor ceremony my daughter slips from me into the life-giving lake water. I quickly lift her up. Oh! She is a most miraculous thing! So small and yet so fierce. She is the mirror of myself. I see the light in her soul shining from her. Like me, she has been kissed with magic. Like me, she will be a child of the moonlight. Like me, she will be under the protection of grandmother-Afanc.

‘Welcome, my little one,’ I kiss her brow. She does not cry, but looks about her, tiny fists clenched, calm but aware even now of where she is. Of what she is. And my joy manifests itself in a glowing light, tinged blue, that surrounds myself and my babe.