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That was three seasons ago, in the
spring. Now Amily did not feel blessed by the gods. Ever since the new baby had
been born, in her mother's eyes she could do nothing right. Her mother was
always tired and angry. She walked with a heavy step and Amily had twice seen
her doubled up, clutching her stomach, weeping with pain. Amily wondered
whether the mistletoe could drive out whatever possessed her.
Amily
thought about her mother as she tramped into the forest. It was a long way, and
she would have to go into parts that she did not know. As she walked, the path
became narrower, and less well used. The trees were closer together, and Amily
could hardly see the grey sky through their bare, interlaced branches. She knew
that as long as she kept to this path, she should get to the grove, but she was
nervous. She reminded herself that the last time someone saw a wolf was when
neighbour Daroc's near-grown lambs had been stolen and that was a full three
moons ago. Wolves would not attack in daylight, she thought. A twig snapped
behind her and she broke into a run. She ran and ran, until her breath was
ragged and she felt as though a dagger was pressed into her side and she had to
stop. She looked fearfully behind her. There was nothing there. Keep calm, she
said to herself, keep calm and you will be safe. Still, she tried to walk
soundlessly and kept her fingers crossed against the evil eye.
The path
started to climb upwards. Soon it was very steep. Even the trees leant into the
hill to stop themselves sliding down. The path was treacherous, covered in
loose rocks. Amily had to scrabble to keep her footing and used her hands to
pull herself up. Then she heard tumbling water and she knew she was nearly
there. A few minutes later she clambered over the last rocky ledge and came out
of the trees. She had arrived. The grass in the clearing was fresh and green,
greener than she had seen for moons. Facing her were two enormous rocks,
crushed against each other. From the crack between them flowed a steady stream
of cool, clear water. Where it ran, the grey rocks shone red and black.
Overhanging the spring was an oak tree, so huge that even if Olwig and Amily
had held hands and stretched as wide as they could, their arms would not have
reached around its trunk. This was the sacred grove of Alos, the goddess of the
forest.
family+ � m s ��6 05@ n"'> Indeed it
was Amily who had once found mistletoe, the sacred all-healing plant. She had
shown the Druid where it hung and he had been pleased with her. He had placed
his pale hand on her head and looked deep into her eyes and told her that she
had done well and that she would be blessed by the gods. Amily was so proud she
thought she'd faint. The mistletoe had been gathered on the sixth day of the
moon, and the Druid had sacrificed three fowl to the Mother Goddess to bring
good fortune. He had taken the mistletoe into his hut, and Amily imagined that
there he would make healing potions for the tribe. 
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