Hours are very long at Emain Abhlach, so it is easy to run across its meads, hills, and valleys all before bedtime. Móraí is very strict about when we must go to sleep, so Clari and I run as far away as we can just before the sun sets upon Cean Tir. In a game of hide and seek, Clari buries her face into a mossy hillside and counts loudly. The red-eared Sadb nuzzles her face into Clari's strawberry hair and licks at her ear. My sister gives the sidh-fawn a pat on the neck before gently pushing her away. "I'm counting, Sadb!" I almost forget that I must hide. So often I stay behind to watch Clari count and then she catches me before I have a chance to find a good hiding place. I just like to hear her count. I like the numbers she uses, and she knows a lot of them! I just use the Inne, minne, maine, mugh system that Móraí taught me. It's not very long, so I have to say it over and over again. Sometimes I think I go on too long, which is why Clari always finds the best hiding places. But this time I mean to be quick about it and hide at Beinn Gaoth, the highest peak on the island! The raven Anam is away, delivering a message to the north, but Croí follows me loyally through the soft, green turf of the steep Gleann Rós, toward the towering ridge before us. My legs are not as fast as Clarissant's, but they carry me far. I pump my arms to help me go fast and not fall down. It's hard with all the rocks around, but I practice every day at not falling down, and I'm getting good. One of the rocks looks like it's following me! Soon it's right next to me, running like something was chasing it. Without slowing down I pick up the little guy and see that he's actually a sidhe-ring sprout with domed cap and all. I slow down to a halt to get a better look at him. I'm well out of Clari's sight by now anyway, and nearly to the mountainside. "What are you, little sprout?" "Súgradh be I, young Míled-born," the little toadstool says, tipping his cap. "Cupbearer I was to the family of Cnoc Aine in happier days. I was lately brought here by the youngest daughter of that family to be the clan's eyes and ears in Emain Abhlach. Little time have I to perform such services with all the wild pigs that would see the end of ol' Súgradh." "You would be happier on Beinn Gaoth," I say, suddenly remembering the pressing matter of finding a good hiding place. "The wild pigs don't go up there for fear of the Gruagach." "What be the Gruagach?" asks Súgradh in his gravelly falsetto. "Friend or foe?" "Frenderfow? I don't anything about that, but I know that he doesn't eat toadstools. Súgradh gives a hearty laugh and taps my thumb with his fist. "Then off we go to Beinn Gaoth, laddie! Never have I heard of a merrier place!" I return my new friend to the ground, and the two of us run swift as hares from a wolf's chase.