He woke to moonlight. He was clean and clothed. He rose. There was no pain. He felt his side and, through the shirt he wore, traced the line of a healed scar. Slowly, he looked around. He was on a mound in the Plain. Away to the north, half a mile perhaps, he saw the river glitter silver in the moonlight. He did not remember the mound, or passing this place. There were lights off to the east: Celidon. No sounds in the night, no movement by the river.

He put a hand to his hip.

“I have not taken it back,” he heard her say. He turned to the west where she was, and when he had turned, he knelt, and bowed his head.

“Look at me,” she said, and he did.

She was in green, as before, by the pool in Faelinn Grove. There was an illumination in her face, but muted, so he could look upon her. There were a bow and a quiver on her back, and in her hand she held out Owein’s Horn.

He was afraid, and he said, “Goddess, how should I ever summon them again?”

Ceinwen smiled. She said, “Not ever, unless someone stronger than the Hunt is there to master them. I should not have done what I did, and I will pay for it. We are not to act on the Tapestry. But you had the horn from me, though for a lesser purpose, and I could not stand by and see Owein unchecked.”

He swallowed. She was very beautiful, very tall above him, very bright. “How may a goddess be made to pay?” he asked.

She laughed. He remembered it. She said, “Red Nemain will find a way, and Macha will, if she does not. Never fear.”

Memory was coming back. And, with it, a desperate pain.

“They were killing everyone,” he stammered. “All of us.”

“Of course they were,” Green Ceinwen said, shining on the mound. “How should you expect the wildest magic to tamely serve your will?”

“So many dead,” he said. His heart was sore with it.

“I have gathered them,” Ceinwen said, not ungently. And Dave suddenly understood whence this mound had come, and what it was.

“Levon?” he asked, afraid. “The Aven?”

“Not all need die,” she said. She had said that to him before. “I have put the living to sleep by the river. They sleep in Celidon as well, although the lights burn. They will rise in the morning, though, carrying their wounds.”

“I do not,” he said, with difficulty.

“I know,” she said. “I did not want you to.”