Hushed Willows [festival] remember what you were made to be. remember your words.

The festival had since quieted, but Olive found the evening’s energy would not leave her. Even after those who wished to depart departed, and those who wished to bed down amongst the willows did so, Olive found it nearly impossible to lay still — even nestled into the comforting form of her wife — so the druid took this as a sign that she was not meant to sleep this night. The gods needed to speak with her. 

She stepped away from the cluster of others and sought solitude; but she would not find it this night. She knew this the moment that sweet, dulcet tones of a singing woman’s voice reached her ears and pulled her forth, as would a siren’s song or the sweet nectar of a flower to a bee. Though the willow’s tendrils concealed much, there was no concealing the luminous woman who stood between the arbors. Olive approached, glanced over the woman to realize that she was pregnant, and she knew almost immediately this was the reason she could not sleep this night.

Gliding onto the scene atop a draft of warm air, Olive let her soft demeanor be the welcome and introduction that was needed. As if she might wake a sleeping child, she said in a hushed voice “I see that you are no longer needing of fertility’s blessing.” This woman’s season had come and passed, and seemed to have been very productive. “I must say, I am not jealous of much, but I am certainly jealous of you.” With Eleuthera and Séamus having departed on their wayfaring and their adventures so recently, her home — and her womb — have been feeling unusually empty. Olive [having just achieved master midwife, yah know] felt the almost imperceptible changed happening in her body and knew her time would come soon, as child-bearing could not be rushed. No, at this moment, it was the nameless woman’s opportunity to glow. Olive smiled with the most sincere of joy, and blessed her with “May your pregnancy be healthy, your delivery easy, and your cubs strong.”