"Old Gran?"

"Yes, my dear?"

"Will you tell us a story? Pleeease?"

"Which one?"

"The one about the druids."

Candlelight flickered over Old Gran’s whiskers, shadow twisting her face into something mysterious. Little Kayli stared up at her with wide eyes, perched on Freya’s lap in the bed they shared.

"Many thousands of years ago," the old mouse began, "the old gods met to form a pact. They agreed not to fight each other, and that their peoples would live together in harmony. All but Inurajg, the shifter god. He did not believe that they could exist in peace, and he took his shifters, the Injuag, into exile rather than being ruled by the pact. The followers of the other gods - Raven, Nithe, and Miru - lived in harmony. Over time, some were born with strange magic, gifts from the gods themselves."

Kayli mewed. This was always her favorite part.

"And those blessed of the gods, of the air and land, they grew strong with their magic. They squabbled with each other for dominance, until the Inujag returned. The leader of the mice argued that the woodland creatures should stand together against the shifters, and so a new pact was forged. Every creature with the ability to use the old magic was called upon to wield it, and those that could not, would take up arms to repel the invaders. Those that wielded the magic became the first circle of druids, governed by sacred rules, seeking to protect their fellow creatures with their lives, from beasts like the Inujag. Together, the druids beat back the army of shifters, sending them away to the frozen north. And peace came upon the land. Nowadays the druids fight large predators, and keep us safe from horrors unknown and unknowing. Because of their devotion to duty, it is said that a druid is always welcome wherever they go.”

There was a snuffle, and Freya looked down to find her little cousin sleeping. Freya could barely resist the urge to pinch her cheeks. Freya was sore from the last day of harvest. It had been a half day, but after three weeks of bringing in corn and wheat, she was exhausted.

Old Gran continued her story even though Kayli was asleep, lowering her voice. "Every druid’s journey begins in the Valley of the Mists. It’s hallowed ground, where violence is forbidden by the pact of the first circle, and made impossible by ancient wards. All are equal there: mice and birds, cats and otters, every sentient creature under the sun. The druids have kept the predators at bay for so long, some wonder why we still have them. But those rangers; seeing one could make a girl blush."

Freya smiled, knowing which part was next.

"Why, when I was just a little older than you, I spent two years as a druid's apprentice. Your grandfather trained to be my ranger for two years, and when I wasn't strong enough, when I was sent off to be a midwife instead; your grandfather, bless his heart, he followed me."

Old Gran paused to take a sip from her jug.

"Thank you, Old Gran," Freya said.

Freya’s mother appeared in the doorway, silhouetted by the light from the hall. Old Gran rose to greet her.

"Minhee," she said, embracing her daughter. "I've just gotten Kayli to sleep. Freya… well, I think she's about to nod off."

Freya obligingly closed her eyes, and tried to give the impression that she was sleeping.

Her mother’s voice dropped, so that Freya had to strain to hear her. "Mom, I've told you that you need to stop filling her head with these silly old tales. She needs to spend the season looking for a suitor."

"You used to believe in these silly old tales, Minhee," Old Gran replied.

A moment of silence passed between the two of them.

"I…don't think that's wise," Old Gran said. "She's pretty set on working with Woda on the beasts. Don’t you remember what it was like when you were her age? The wide world - full of possibilities?"

"Still, she needs to be set up for success. She should be thinking about finding someone, and I think your friend could help us," her mother said.

Freya lowered her voice in her best imitation of her grandmother. "Just let her do the thing with Grandpaw, it won't be that bad."

Old Gran chuckled.

"I think my ghost has the right idea here, Minhee," she said. "Who’s to say she can’t do both?"

Mother’s whiskers twitched, unamused. “Well, this ghost should know that Freya needs to find a good husband, and that her mother is going to give her the best chance possible to do that. She should also know that she needs her sleep.”

Freya rolled over to blow the candle out, and drifted off as Old Gran’s footsteps faded behind her.