Despite the storm brooding on the horizon, it was a brilliant day. Riona's mind wandered aimlessly over the rolling hills before her, and beyond that to the broad dark forest that stretched beside the road. She hummed to herself, a lullaby dimly remembered from her childhood. The mournful sound thinned and dissipated into the vast grey sky, carried on a warm breeze.

The journey to the village took her little over an hour on foot. Small homes of stone and thatch slowly surrounded her as she made her way further into town. Though the village was small, it profited as one of the few ports on the coast this side of Tintagel. Merchant ships avoiding a storm or looking to resupply at lower prices often stopped here for respite.

The peel of a bell greeted her from the church on the other side of the market, reminding her that this was also a village not unknown to missionaries looking to convert the wayward Britons back toward something resembling Christianity. Though simple, the chapel was ornate when compared to the hovels half-buried in the hills around it. Its stone façade was covered in the clinging green moss that grows on buildings so close to the sea. Riona's eyes narrowed as the priest appeared in the wood-and-iron doorway. His thick belly pressed against the fabric of his grey linen tunic as if he might burst. He eyed Riona warily as she approached the center of the square, while she ignored his disapproving gaze without effort.

Riona hunched over the well and pulled a bucket brimming with water upward from its depths. She dipped her hands and splashed the water onto her face with a contented sigh. The dust of the road slipped from her skin, more purifying than a baptism. With another handful of well water, she slaked her thirst. Then she picked up her basket of produce once more and meandered toward a vendor.

"Mori-genā," said Conwenna. The old woman was resting in the shade of her stall. "Wasn't expecting you, oh, another week at least."

Riona smiled at the name Conwenna used. Mori-genā. Seaborne. It was a pet name the old woman had bestowed upon her. The story of it was a luscious scandal in the village. Riona's mother, the only woman on a ship full of men, washed ashore one night during a particularly gloomy winter storm, nine months to the day pregnant. The captain had searched the village for anyone who might deliver the babe and found Conwenna. The sound of it was comforting when it came from the old crone's lips.

"My onions sprouted early this year, had to get 'em out of the ground before they turned."

Conwenna nodded her white-haired head sagely.

"I never doubt you know what's best for them that grows in the ground, girl. Wouldn't've been surprised if you had sprung up from the dirt yourself had I not been there to see it."

Riona laughed softly.

"I have radishes and dill too, eh...five pounds of what's left of my cheese, and some forage if you're interested."

Conwenna inspected the basket of goods. Her wrinkled hands gripped an onion firmly between bent arthritic fingers and held it close to her face so that her aged eyesight might spot any flaw.

"A bit smaller than last year."

"Last year they were overly large, Wenna," said Riona firmly.

Conwenna's lips cracked into a broad smile.

"Not gonna sell ye short, girl." She sniffed loudly. "I'll take the whole basket. Just traded for some apples with a bloke. Tried one, not a worm to be found."

"Hmmm," Riona mused, "I suppose I could dry them for winter."

"Make yourself a tart, girl, live a little."

Riona pursed her lips to hide a smile. "What else do you have?"

"This mornin's eggs," said Conwenna, scratching at a mole on her chin, "still don't know why you willn't raise chickens yourself."

"Can't stand the noise," Riona responded, as Conwenna withdrew the vegetables from the basket and replaced them with a sack of apples and just under a dozen eggs.

"You'll have to trade your cheese with Brendan, I got no use for it."

Riona pouted.

"Don't look so sour," Conwenna chastised, "he knows your stock is good."

Riona sighed, acquiescing.

"Best do it quick, I don't like the look of those clouds..." Conwenna's voice drifted upward with the gaze of her milky eyes. The thunderheads were now dangerously close to the shore.

Riona picked up the basket of traded goods and, with a nod to the old woman, turned toward the inn.

Brendan's inn was set into a dip in the green hills that led down to the docks. The roof, freshly patched with sod, jutted obstinately from the landscape as if announcing its presence. As she stepped over the threshold, Riona was greeted with the sour smell of ale and the dry musk of straw strewn across the floor. The chatter inside hushed as she paused in the doorway. Riona glanced around the room, recognizing most, but not all, of the faces staring at her.

"What do y'want?"

She glanced up at the bar and met Brendan's granite gaze.

"I have cheese to trade."

Brendan grunted. "Wenna send you?"

Riona nodded.

"A'right then, let's have a look."

Riona set her leather pack down upon the bar. Brendan did not wait for her permission before digging a massive paw into the bag, scooping out the cheese as if he already owned it. He pinched a hunk between his thumb and forefinger and tossed it into his mouth.

"I s'pose I could sell this, long as I kept quiet about who made it."

Riona gritted her teeth. "You haven't made me an offer yet."

Brendan thumbed his beard. "You can have two bottles of what's left of the winter wine."

Riona bristled, her voice came out low and in a hiss. "That's five pounds of cheese, it's worth more than that, and you know it."

Brendan's lip curled. "Y'gonna curse me, witch? Who else y'gonna sell to?"

"Excuse me..."

A new, calm voice broke the tension. Riona felt her heart beat faster as Aidan's slim form appeared at her side.

"I've just come to town, and I was looking to do some trading. May I?" they indicated the cheese. Riona nodded numbly, her lips pressed together, eyes wide. Aidan took a small portion with their lean fingers and chewed meaningfully.

Brendan's expression soured. "We was already makin' a trade."

"That was not what it sounded like," said Aidan icily as they swallowed.

Riona's eyes darted back and forth from Aidan to Brendan, expecting some sort of outburst over Aidan's odd appearance. Instead, Brendan shifted his blunt glare back onto Riona.

"The wine and a pound of salted pork," he said between gritted teeth.

"Deal," said Riona quickly.

Brendan disappeared behind a swinging door. In a moment, he reappeared with the promised trade. Riona unpacked the rest of the cheese and set it on the counter, replacing it in her pack with the wine and pork. She glanced up at Aidan, not sure whether or not to thank them. Aidan casually tipped their head toward the door. Riona nodded, and without so much as a glance back at Brendan, left the inn.

"I wasn't expecting to see you again so soon," Riona said quietly.

Aidan strode beside her, seemingly unconcerned by the probing eyes of the villagers thirsty for gossip."Nor I you."

Riona met their warm gaze for a moment and then glanced away.

"What is a druid doing in Cornwall?" Riona finally managed, pausing in her steps to turn and look at them fully.

Aidan's eyes glinted with surprised amusement. "Ah, so you can see me then."

"See you? What—" Riona's voice drifted away as Aidan smiled crookedly, passing a hand over their face. Their arm lowered back to their side, and instead of pointed ears and woad-blue tattoo, Riona saw only tawny flesh and rounded lobes. She breathed in sharply.

"With most humans, I mayn't even bother, but you seem to have a keener eye," Aidan purred.

As if on cue, a tingle began to creep up Riona's spine. Her blood ran cold."No," she hissed.

Aidan arched an eyebrow.

Riona hastened to the well, setting down her pack and basket. With desperate hands, she splashed cold water against her face, until her clothes were dripping with it. From across the square, Conwenna watched her with a curious glance. A haze passed over Riona's eyes, and she let out a soft whimper. She gripped the edge of the well so tightly one of her nails cracked against the stone.

Without warning, a guttural cry ripped from her throat, and she collapsed. Her foot turned over her basket, sending apples rolling. Villagers milling around the market stopped in their routine to gape at her. She was vaguely aware of Aidan's presence at her side. Riona's body shook as images flashed across her thoughts. She saw the village writhing in flame, piles of dead, and ships with dark sails driven by large fair-haired men.

"Riona!"

Her cheek burned as someone slapped her across the face. Riona's sight returned. Conwenna stood crouched over her, wrinkled face filled with frightened concern. Aidan was beside her, their features inscrutable.

"Sea Wolves," said Riona as the last of the vision dissipated.

A gasp came from within the crowd that had gathered around. Other voices now rang out.

"Saxons?"

"They've never pushed this far west!"

"She's a witch, she's lying!"

Riona sat up, body still shaking. Tears pricked at her eyes as she gathered up the spilled apples and took the basket in her arms. Aidan tried to help, but she shirked their touch.

"Riona," they murmured, "Stop-please. I only want to—"

Riona shook her head and turned, biting her lip to keep from crying as she forced her way through the crowd. She sped up, her breath becoming short and ragged as she stumbled out of town. The eyes of the villagers burned into her back as she headed up the hill. It had been many years since she had last had a vision. Riona swallowed hard, silently hoping this one at least would not turn true.