Time passes and winter ebbs slowly into the tide of Spring. With each day Ceirdwyn recovers a bit more of her vitality. At last she is able to rise from her bed. Leaning on my arm and accompanied by Thorn on the other side, she takes a few more steps each day. One morning when I awaken, she has already stoked the fire and has set some oats to boil for breakfast.

"Well, well!" I exclaim happily. Her smile is bright as the sunbeams that play across the floor. "Today we will go out and pull some fresh bracken and see what else we might find now that the frost has gone." Gently I embrace her and she hugs me back hard, as if to demonstrate her strength. Thorn bumps her with his wet nose, demanding his share of affection. We laugh together and make a fuss over the great hound, tangling our hands happily in his shaggy coat.

Leisurely we break our fast. I want to be sure the chill is gone from the air before Ceirdwyn and I venture outside. While we fill ourselves with porridge and honey, I observe the color of her face and the sparkle in her eyes. There is a dark pink mark that runs from her hairline to the middle of her cheekbone but aside from that, there is little left to show of her injuries. At least on the outside. What remains inside will stay longer, perhaps always, in a sudden dreaminess that overtakes her now and again. But that too shall fade with time.

I give Ceirdwyn a fresh leine and brat of russet brown, thinking that we must get her some new clothing and perhaps start to consider where she will fit into the clan. She ties back her hair as I take a couple of baskets down from the shelf. Thorn waits impatiently by the door, to bound ahead of us when we step outside.

The sky is a delicate pale blue, streaked with fading clouds. Ceirdwyn breathes deeply of the fresh air, sighing with unabashed joy. We head towards the river, slowly at first then with lighter steps. A beautiful morning!