Gweneth felt a strange urge to go out into the woods. She could have sworn she heard Rory's voice calling her, but surely nothing could be heard through the log walls or above the bawdy din. She couldn't help it anymore. She handed the spit to a servant, slapped on her wool cloak and plowed through the snow, cursing herself all the way.

Someone, a girl by the look of it, had walked into the woods ahead of her. Gweneth looked back and could see Morgawse the elder walking in her path, using Gwen as a snow breaker.

Gwen followed the girl's' footprints into the tree line and saw the god. The Great Horned One stood there; his hide was as pale as the moon, and he wore and absurdly large horns upon his head like he was born to them. His chest was bare, colored with dried blood. Stream rose up his body. In one hand he held a spear of ash wood tipped with antler. At his belt he wore two knives. It was just as her grandmother had always said.

Allanna knelt in the snow, prostrate, licking the Horned One's left hand clean. Behind the god, her son's pony waited faithfully. Where was her son?

Her son WAS the god. He was possessed by the Great Stag. In every real sense, he was no longer her son but the embodiment of the virility of the woods. Gwen bowed immediately in the presence of the King.

Old Morgawse arrived suitably unimpressed. "SO you finally decided to show up, have ye? About time. Where did you go? And why the hell did you leave us to these savages?"

The Stag took no affront. "Any forest's herd grows thin on its own. Rogue bucks from neighboring woods wander in, bring fresh blood.

Our people are old, inward turning. Chieftains had begun to shun new blood. We needed new stock."

Neither of the two senior women brought up their kin's death. To the Horned One, death or life, it was all the same. Allanna was lost in idolatry. Her young life had been spent in depravation. Now her faith had been restored.

With her son's voice, Gwen heard the god speak again. "A generation has passed. It is time to reclaim the herd. The old buck's time is done. I will slay my rivals and take the all the hinds. My host has warned me of my rivals' might. You will aid me, as your mothers did." He held out the sack with the old Stag's intestines in it. "First, give this to the bard."