Baine has done everything she knows to staunch the ugly flow of foul juices that seeps from my wounded arm. Every time she binds it, the muscles and flesh ooze more of their substance until there is almost nothing at all left of the powerful arm I once had. She gags in disgust when she unwraps her careful work to clean the mess and tear another long strip from her cloak.

"It's no use. I'm dying."

"You're not!" she argues. "You'll live, I promise."

"With one arm? I won't live long." I laugh in her face.

We climb the last hill before the Plain of the Great Heart. I never thought I would see these woods again. It is a good place to die. The pain in my arm has shrunken away with the strength of it. Now it has no feeling at all. I can't even make a fist. From shoulder to fingertips, there is nothing.

We all stop at the top of the hill to stare down at Magh Croimor. Lasair mumbles something to Baine that makes her snarl, then the toad witch gives a great moan and Baine rushes to her side. Gods help me, I will go to Tirnanog along with Sean's sidhe-wife! Do the sidhe go there when they die? Maybe it will bring me favor with the ancestors if I arrive at the same time she does.

I think back on my wretched life. What an ending. Will the wolves of Magh Croimor gnaw on my bones? I start to say goodbye to Sean, who has been my closest companion for the past two summers. He has dismounted and is tending to his dying wife while Baine kneels beside her. I glance at Lasair. Her face is pale and stony.

There is a little grove of evergreens by the stream that runs along the border of the plain. Many a night I fell asleep there and dreamed. I nudge my horse and ride slowly away down the hill in that direction.