Three women stood watching as Phonzy made his way from the village, shield on his back, the long-handled sword at his hip.
"Will he find his way, Mother?" the Maid asked of Aine.
Aine nodded, not taking her eyes off the young man cast out for honor's sake.
"His is a long road," she said and she looked at the Maid. "But, you are here, so he must have found his way."
The old woman, leaning on her staff, spoke.
"He has a good eye, that one. If he learns to see what is true, he will find his way."
