A full moon lit her new world. She pulled back a heavy leather curtain and looked outside. Everything was suddenly more real than anything she had experienced before. A fire blazed in a courtyard. Three young men were sitting about it on low stools.
As she watched, a drinking horn passed between them. Two powerfully built men, in leather boots and brightly coloured clothes, sat on either side of a boy who was more her age. He seemed out of place in their company. His light-blue eyes stared out over the fire. Alison saw the chain about his neck. It was the one with the stainless steel cat ... the one she'd exchanged for his talisman.
She was wearing it now: the carving of a bear. Her heart missed a beat. In her dreams he had called her Little Cat and she had called him Little Bear. He picked up his harp, strummed a few chords and began to sing.
'How strong and beautiful is the fair oak tree. I strove beneath its bows to please a maid. My cloak upon the bracken was our bed. And, one and one together, one were we. Hark, Little Cat. Why do you think of sleep? Listen to the wild lynx crying for its mate. The doe in yonder meadow does not sleep. The stag in yonder thicket does not wait.' Alison's heart beat wildly. It was as if everything she had ever wanted had suddenly arrived. She pushed open the door and went outside. The three young men showed no sign of recognition. She walked into the circle of light and let the hood of her cloak fall down, revealing her face.
No one made the slightest move in her direction. They seemed absorbed in the ritual of the song yet the words seemed intended for her. She looked towards the singer searching for a sign. For a moment she feared she was an intruder. Then he turned his head towards her and she knew she was the reason for the song.
'Bir Moreth threatens but I do not despair. I have made my choice and I have no regrets. My choice is to be with you, my love. You are my chosen one. What am I to you? Why are you so silent ... my sweet love?'
He stopped singing and one of his companions handed the drinking horn to her. She held it to her lips. A taste of honey and aromatic herbs. A tide of warmth swept over her. She drank again and when she had finished, she stood with the horn in her hands, feeling its smooth surface. She looked into the fire and saw strange shapes. Her feet felt light and when she tried to move it felt as if she was walking a hair's breadth above the ground. Her vision clouded and when it cleared the scene had changed.