“Let me stand,” she said. “I want to Change back.”

He lowered her feet to the ground. When she had her balance, he took a half step away from her, and then shaded his eyes as the brilliant light of the Change engulfed her body. Back in her natural form, she stood awkwardly on three legs, but she met his eyes resolutely.

“I’m ready to see it now,” she said.

Together, the two of them turned to face the south. Brighid could hardly comprehend what she was seeing. The sun was rising over the eastern edge of the horizon, casting cheery pink and gold into the sky over a sea of ruin. The plains were gone. In their place were still-smoldering ashes that clumped in grotesque charred formations. Trees were indistinguishable from bodies. Nothing moved except small trails of rising smoke.

“Oh, Goddess.” Brighid pressed her hand against her mouth to keep from sobbing aloud. Could anything survive it?

“Yes, child.” Etain’s voice came high and sweet from behind them.

They turned to face the Goddess Incarnate and Brighid gasped. Etain sat on the silver mare at the edge of the blackened line. Midhir stood to her left. To her right were Elphame, Lochlan and Ciara. And stretching behind them were all of the winged children.

“Now tell me, my daughter, how could anything survive such devastation?” Etain asked Brighid.

The Huntress’s eyes went from the Goddess Incarnate, to Elphame, and then to Ciara and the unusually silent children and, finally, her gaze lifted to her husband’s turquoise eyes. With a rush of clarity, Brighid finally understood-and it was at that moment that the Huntress fully became the High Shaman.

“With hope and love anything can be survived,” she said, and her words rang with Goddess-enhanced power so that they carried not just to all the children, but spread like ripples in a still pool across the Centaur Plains.

Etain smiled her approval.

Suddenly there was shouting from behind the children and dark-clothed warriors appeared with their bows and swords drawn. Brighid felt Cuchulainn tense at her side, and she opened her mouth to call a warning, but Etain raised one silk-clad arm and the sun glistened off the palm of her hand as if she had called its rays to her.

“Hold, Guardian Warriors!” she commanded without glancing behind her at the approaching army. “I did not allow you to follow them here for misplaced retribution. You are here to witness rebirth. Stand silently and observe.” Then her voice changed, and softened and she finally did glance behind her, but not at the warriors. The High Priestess smiled at the children. “Come,” she said.

The group descended from the green ridge and crossed the fire line without hesitation. When they reached Brighid and Cuchulainn, they halted. Brighid wanted to greet her friends, Elphame, Ciara and the small winged figure of Liam, but the preternatural tingling was back all over her skin and it seemed that her blood hummed with a sudden surge of wordless desire-something that was just beyond the reach of her mind and spirit-but something she wanted…had to have.

“Lead them, Brighid, High Shaman of the Dhianna Herd. It is your love and their hope that will heal the soul of the land,” Etain said.

“Let me lean on you?” Brighid asked Cuchulainn.

“Always, my beautiful Huntress,” he said.

With her arm around his broad shoulders she limped down the embankment, crossed the scorched river, and with the rustle of the moving wings that followed her, Brighid, Cuchulainn and the New Fomorians stepped onto the destroyed plain.

Brighid turned to face the children and their Shaman. “Will you help me make it grow again?” she asked them.

“Yes, Brighid!”

“Of course, Huntress!”

“Yes!”

“Yes!”

She smiled as their joyous voices sang over the deathly stillness of the burned land. “Then join me.” She held out her hand and Liam ran to take it. Ciara stepped up next and took Liam’s hand. Then Kyna skipped up to clutch Cuchulainn’s hand and grinned toothily up at him. And one-by-one, the New Fomorians linked hands and spread out in a semicircle, facing the destruction of the southlands.

“I-I’m not sure…” Brighid said quietly.

Ciara caught her eye and smiled that joyous smile of hers that was so full of love and kindness. “Yes, you are, Brighid. Just let your heart speak.”

And then Brighid opened her mouth and her heart poured forth.

Gracious Goddess Epona!

Guardian of those wild and free,

we seek Your blessings upon this place.

It was a place of hatred and strife,

but it has been purified with fire,

now let it be rebuilt as a

place of happiness and love!

A place of refuge and peace,

A place of enchantment!

Wild and free as the Goddess who created it…

Brighid paused as Ciara, and then the children following her, began to hum a wordless, lilting melody that reminded her of the wind as it swept through the long grasses of deep summer. At the same time an emerald glow began to emanate from all of the New Fomorians. Cuchulainn’s hand tightened on hers as Epona’s voice, filled with love and happiness swept over them like a magical wind from the depth of their hearts.

“I consecrate you, Brighid Dhianna, as Guardian of the Centaur Plains. You are tied to it through blood and love and hope-and now by my sacred trust!”

Overcome with emotion, Brighid bowed her head in acknowledgment, recollecting herself before she could complete her prayer. When she spoke again her voice was thick with the love and happiness that surged through her.

O Gracious Goddess!

Divine protectress of those wild and free,

Be always present

in this place of beauty!

Hail Epona!

So may it be!

As she spoke the last words of her prayer the emerald glow that had been hovering over the children suddenly exploded, and like a jewel-colored whirlwind that had the power to blow away the past, it swept across the plain, removing the ugly black ash and smoke to suddenly expose the beautiful new growth that was already pushing through the rich soil underneath.

With tears streaming unheeded down her face, Brighid watched her homeland be reborn. And then, before she could comprehend the enormity of what the Goddess-blessed children had done, there was a stirring in the newborn land as centaurs suddenly appeared. They were led by a silver-blond male whose hair had been singed from his body and whose skin was blistered and burned.

Brighid stood very still in the center of the line of linked hands while he and the other centaurs made their way slowly to her. As they drew closer she recognized many of them, especially the females, as Dhianna Herd members, but the focus of her attention remained on her brother.

Bregon stopped just a few paces before her. Slowly, deliberately, he executed the low bow of respect paid only to centaur High Shamans.

“Forgive me, Brighid.” When he raised his face to her, his soot-covered cheeks were awash with tears. And then he dropped to his knees. Keeping his eyes on his sister, he began speaking in a deep, earnest voice.

“Through the deep peace of the flowing air I bind myself to you.

“Through the deep peace of the crackling homefire I bind myself to you.

“Through the deep peace of the quiet earth I bind myself to you.

“Through the four elements I am bound to you, Brighid Dhianna, High Shaman and Guardian of the Centaur Plains, and through the spirit of our herd I seal this bond. Thus has it been spoken, thus will it be done.”

Shocked, Brighid could only stare at her brother and the other members of the Dhianna Herd who had all knelt as her brother had spoken the ancient words of binding.

“You must accept them or not,” Cuchulainn said quietly. “It is your decision.”

“Rise, Dhianna centaurs. Your High Shaman accepts you.”

With a glad shout, the centaurs rose-all except her brother-who bowed his head again and wept openly.