Ghost Lion Crag The blood is the life... and it shall be mine.

Starbuck watched keenly as the sticks clattered upon the stone. For a long time she sat in silence, listening as the wind whispered to her and the edges of the twigs blurred until the space between them was just as stark as the twigs themselves. In these spaces and in the orientation of the sticks she saw the shapes of the future. A star, she saw, and water falling to water and to the soft loam of freshly dug earth. These images resolved themselves into feelings, not what she felt but what he would. Have hope, she said finally. You will find your sister, and... a word stuck in her mouth, for she was unsure how it applied, but knew it to be true. You will find renewal. Starbuck smiled up at him, for surely this was good news.