Faery With Teeth

Vivian sat up and brushed grass from her skirt. "Go ahead and begin the procession," she told Cian, not looking to see how he took the order. She listened to him retreat before standing. So much for a few snatched seconds of enlightenment, she thought, and climbed out of the mound.

"Next year, same time, same channel," she said, looking down at the impression her body left in the grass. "You be good now." She wagged a finger at it as if it were a naughty child. She closed her eyes and rolled her head to loosen her neck muscles, and pretending that this act would snap her back to the job awaiting her, while struggling to remember what she had planned for today's visit inside the cairn.

Slowly, the day's outline rolled into her mind and she was able to recall the mock lesson for the Calendar Stone. She would escort her pupils into the cairn and have them sit, then assuming the role of Chief Bard, she would give a lesson on Irish cosmology, and take them through an enactment of what might have happened thousands of years before as a student in the Bardic College.

Vivian made her way to the front entrance of the cairn. The procession had begun moving around the north side of the mound. This bothered her for some reason; it was like a pestering itch in the middle of her back that she couldn't quite reach. She fumbled inside her daypack for the gate key and watched Carla, the last in the procession, disappear around the curve. The soft and constant echo of the Bodhrán, bum-da-bum, the swooshing of a rattle and the jingling of tiny bells grew distant.

Normally, Vivian would have led the procession while Cian unlocked the cairn and entered the space to secure the energy. As she slide the long skeleton key into the heavy cast iron lock it occurred to her that she had unconsciously switched roles with Cian, that he was leading the group in process.

The dull itch returned. This scene was highly unusual. Cian was suppose to secure each site, go in first, make sure it was okay to work, while she lead the group in procession in a sunwise direction. Sweet Jesus, that was it, Cian was turning the wheel opposite.

In that one breath, everything fell into place. Today it would be, had to be, different. Vivian had no control over the circumstances, wasn't suppose to have any. She was suppose to allow each difference to take place, and then accept the consequences each difference cost.  In that one breath Vivian pulled open the gate and moved down the dim passage tunnel into the dark inner chamber. The differences might cost a lot, but that was the risk.

Entering first, and by herself, gave her a thrill. God, she usually felt so protected, ushered in like a princess. Let’s protect Vivian, let’s get her in safely and get her out safely was how Cian always made her feel in the normal routine. Now she stood alone, free, humbled.

Are you ready my dear? The earth seemed to breathe. Yes, she was more than ready.

Brown and tan sandstone stood around her, enveloping her with its musty, wet grave scent. In the center of the inner chamber Vivian gently lowered the ritual bag to the ground, and immediately went to the white limestone pillar. Her hand caressed its warm smooth surface as she gazed upon the Calendar Stone so lovely, so magnificent, resting there before her just as it had from the beginning of its creation.

"What does such a stone of mystery attempt to communicate to us?" she asked as she always did.

To be back again was an undeniable feeling that tickled her stomach. The smell of damp earth and ancestors, the smell of hay and wool, the acrid smell of sheep urine, the smell of peace and the whispering stones filled her nost