Nimue sighed but was not unhappy with her task. Since she had neglected to listen to the guardian, she had been tasked to assist the woman in her duties and to learn from her wisdom. Nimue liked the guardian, the old woman with flowing gray hair who spent her days staring into a bowl of water where she could see the future, the immediate future  and the distant future. The crone was also a match maker of sorts, seeing if a man were true or if he would beat his woman. Her wisdom could see the heart of the matter whether person or events. Nimue sighed again. Being quiet was the hardest part of being here.<br/><br/>She longed for the sunshine and the earth under her feet. She hungered for the freedom of the sky as she rode upon Layla’s golden back. She even wished to have hand sticky with sap but instead, she was gliding over the smooth stone floors of the temple with bare feet, silent as the mist. In her head, a lively tune began to play over and over and soon, Nimue found herself swaying from side to side, dancing in a world that no one shared with her.<br/><br/>“Nimue,child,” the crone beckoned with her gnarled but gently hand,”come peek at the water. She sends us a message.”<br/><br/>Nimue rolled her eyes but did as she was bade. The guardian had not seen the language of impatience in her face but rather was studying something. Nimue looked over the shoulder of the wizen woman but the water only looked cloudy. That was strange in and of itself for the water used in Avalon was pure. Nimue looked again and out of the mist she saw a black horse and on it a man.<br/><br/>“Maric!” she exclaimed, shattering the silence.