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. I had
no thought of how small I was - how things far greater
would press against me when I stepped across the threshold
into the early winter morning.
Mother moved slowly aside as I passed into the pale
sunlight, her fingers brushing softly, mutely against my
hair. I gave her a smile and a long hug, and she assured me
of her own safety. In the sled lay an old hide bag, big
enough for the harp and the book, a loaf of bread, and a
wedge of cheese. I tossed everything in and moved off, as
quickly and silently as I could.
One of the dogs barked as I lost the cottage behind a
cluster of blue AETERNA branches, and the high wind
shivered faintly at their icicles like the vanished notes of a
song. Above the hillside nearest my home, four long
shadows fell across the trackless snow.
*****
There were other adventures that led me back to the
peninsula - a wide arc of years and travels across the
continent, Finn's men at first only hours behind me, then
less constant, less menacing the farther south I traveled. I
sent the dogs back to Mother soon and traveled alone,
sometimes working for a while at jobs where nobody knew
me or thought they knew me, where nobody cared that I
never removed my hood.
It was a year, six seasons perhaps, before I realized
exactly what it was about the song I was searching for.
It has long been practice that when a bard travels and
sings, his songs are attended, remembered, and copied by
those in the regions nearby
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