Two small figures stood in the desolate moor as around them the maelstrom of elements howled to their mistress.
The Cailleach stood up, the bells on her ankles tinkling as she moved. Flashes of blue skin glistened as her cape spun around her.
‘Cruithne,’ she said to the cat kneeling in front of her, ‘this is your land, the Goddess has decreed it. You are a good warrior, and you will rule it well.’
Her tail flicked as she considered her next words.
Cruithne looked up into the Cailleach’s face. She did not meet his gaze, instead she looked towards the mountains beyond them.
‘One that is your own blood will find the desire of power too strong a mistress to shun. The wars will be long and bloody,’ she paused, ‘at the end of the tenth generation, when three become one, a new history will begin.’
Cruithne took the Cailleach’s paw in his and kissed it.
‘So be it,’ he whispered.
‘Go now and fulfil your destiny.’