How looks my kinswoman? She looks not young, said Gwydion, it seemed to me that she was older than you, Mother. There was more than one - I know I struck Gwydion - Mordred, damn him. It seemed all too soon that she was wakened, but then she had been so insistent they should set forth at the first light. Morgaine rose swiftly, the flow of her draperies around her, and raised her arms.
Oh, no, cousin. The spring was late-I see the plowmen are just getting into the fields. The soft, familiar voice, unchanged, just as she had heard it in dreams, said gently, Morgaine, my darling child, it is you! How I have longed to meet with you all these years. He looked younger than he was, in a plain white tunic, his dark hair caught in a golden band.
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