My brother and I, we heard the tale out in disbelief. I was wise enough to have expected changes, but not an entire ripping asunder. I looked at Kern with a silent, hopeless pleading. "Say it isn't so," I thought, almost unwiling to believe.

"Maybe we coul' be takin' it back," my brother slowly said.

I glanced at him sharply, brought back to reality. "What, you're no mighty warrier!" I killed that false dream of his, and he glared at the surrounding rocks.

"So our da', he was a healer, a good healer," I said. I had gained a gift, a gift of a past to him; but at the same time had lost a home. I ran the good part of it all though the chambers of my mind, drawing in nourishment.

"Yes, acompany us, Kern, to the Aracos of the Crannog. We are two healers, slight of build and little threat, and we will not be staying there long, rather going on to the Healers Isle. First, though, I need to see the Crannog again."

And need to see the place where our da had lived a life he'd never spoke of, although I'd probably never quite understand the whys of his silence on the matter.

And so, with Kern we walked to the Crannog, a place where Aracos stared at us, and as we looked around to our humble clan end. I felt my brother Seanán tensen, but I knew he would do or say nothing akilter. Indeed, his build was slight, he was wise enough to handle his temper, and at any rate, any outward show of anger could be suicidal. And this had long ago ceased to be our battle, whether we'd known it then or not.

"The second and third, today," we heard the mutterings or whispers, referring to us. I drew close to Kern, and my brother grew close to me. We carried the tools and sacks of our trade as we followed Kern, who knew his way in this alien landscape of rough and often ruined huts. Slowly, after the years of background certitude that saw me through the life with mother and da on the move, I knew I no longer had a home.