A single raven flew overhead as Cearas gathered her supplies and the wounded. She raised her hand to protect her eyes from the sun's glare.

Badb Catha.

She sighed and pulled her cloak closer to her body. From the land of Badb they’d returned and to her they owed much.

Cathal had insisted upon a warrior's escort for the group as they headed out for the healing waters. For once, she welcomed the escort. Times were still dangerous after the raid. The Morna's will never let go of their blood oath against the Cumhaill's and she was quite certain the Niafers will all too soon miss their cattle.

It had been a rough raid, the tide of the battle continued to fluctuate with no one gaining a decisive upper hand. All of the tribes involved had seen the Cumhaill Cean Fine fall but so far none outside of a few in the clan knew he yet lived and was among the wounded who will soon soak in the warm waters.

It was slow going as consideration was given to their cargo but soon they made it to the causeway. As the main group continued over the causeway, a small group stopped. Dressed in black, she began the rites. The sacrifices, two males and a female who had been dispatched secretly with no one knowing who caused the actual death blow, were tossed over the causeway. The wounds were caused by no less than 3 weapons and the blood was sprinkled over the trees.

The healing now can begin.