I return from delivering our prized white bull, Tine, to his summer realms in a secret pasture nestled in the hills between Inver Colpa and Temhair. After entrusting the king of all kine to a blissful season spent under the keen watch of six local cowherds armed with the truest of spears and sworn of their lives to his service, I hurry home to my own holdings with a heart full of greening joy.

Since Beltaine, the unusually heavy rains have made the main road a muddle. Any raiders thinking to venture to Inver Colpa would find themselves warded off by the weather. The deeper I descend from the pasture hills into the river's sweet valley, the more my boots slip and slide in the mire. Dangerous passage for anyone, even a man familiar with the every twist of the path. As I slog my way down to the ridge overlooking the low meadow where my precious cattle roam, I search and find Guaire in his usual place overlooking the field. All around him are the golden cows whose hooves bless the ground of Clan Niafer - the faery cattle that belong to the land, a gift from the Queen of the Sidhe, my beloved mother, Befinn!

They sense my arrival and lift their shaggy heads, turning as one to greet me with a chorus of happy lowings. Guaire jumps down from the fence, landing with a loud squish, to open the gate for me. The cattle are, for once, slow to greet me. Light-footed as they are, they churn in the puddled pasture, splashing their gilted coats brown in their eager rush uphill. I call out their names and each one answers in their own distinctly musical voice. Silken heads gently butt against me, velvet noses softly seek the affection that pours out to them in a shower of pattering caresses over wooly brows, delicate ears and shaggy chins.

"Any signs of trouble, Guaire?" I ask the cowherd once the mooings and cooings die down.

"Rumors, that's all," the lad replies, tapping his stick lightly on the gate for good luck. "It was a good plan to keep the herd here for the summer. What raiders would think to find the blessed beasts so close to home now, when all the rest are gone to the hills? Is Tine secure enough?"

"He's guarded by six of our best, watching him by turns. No worries there."

Guaire and I hop up onto the gate and perch there above the pasture-turned-bog to spend the rest of the morning proudly surveying the priceless herd.