Moonspear some plans were made and rice was thrown

@Amekaze

Life upon the mountain was not the quietude the druid had been expecting. In a small way, it was a welcome lesson and Olive felt a weird level of certainty in the consistency of her upheavals. The only thing she could depend on was the fact that she couldn’t depend on anything. The willingness of Olive to surrender herself to the will of the forces of the universe, to be bent and wrought by their will, astonished even her.  

She was now a woman driven by the gods. 

Between her bouts of prayer and devotionals, the druid found her thoughts settling upon Sirius — her child, lost to the wolves of Teaghlaigh. He felt so far, and it felt so strange not to hear his voice or know his divine uniqueness — and so often the mother would stare up at the boy’s namesake constellation and would know, in her heart, that he was safe. Olive felt it profoundly and was sure that the wolf once called Isley did not disappoint her… and in a month’s time Olive would return to meet her firstborn and learn of all the things she had missed and teach him all the lessons  that had been left unfulfiled; the lessons that Olive knew were a mother's duty to teach to her son. 

But until that happened, Olive would continue to do as she did then: to lay upon the gentle slope of the nestled valley, not necessarily sleeping, but not necessarily awakened — just simply being.