The grove of apple trees beckoned in the rare day of sunshine. The mists had lifted, leaving the lake sparkling at the foot of the Tor. Nimue walked through the temple, threading her way lightly through the flaming braziers to find a reed basket close to the south entrance. Her blue woolen cape hung neatly on a peg by the other brightly dyed cloaks of her sister priestesses. Only one was stained deep blood crimson, the hooded cloak worn by Viviane, the High priestess. Nimue’s was only blue, denoting her novice status among the Druids.<br/><br/>Fastening the garment at the neck, she lifted out her unbound black hair with the unruly curls that defied all methods of taming. She needed no polished reflecting metal to show her milk white skin, soft rosy cheeks and full red lips. All too often she had stared into green eyes at the pool of the Twin Springs to know the slant of her eyes and the thick fringe of lashes. The newly tattooed spirals on her upper arms still stung from the abuse that would mark her forever as a Druid in the service of the Mother Goddess.<br/><br/>Nimue had turned 23 last Samhain and was considered quite old to just be entering into the order. She had worked at the castle in the kitchen and sewing for the Lady there but she was always seen dreaming out the arrow slits, rather than tending to business. When the Lady had snapped at her one too many times that she was good for nothing but to meditate and burn incense, Nimue took notice that perhaps this was not a bad idea. She had set out for Avalon in a mist so thick as to be a rain but not rainy enough to be more than a mist. She had walked 220 feet slipping in the mud but never stopping to rest until she was at the top, kneeling at Morgain’s feet, begging admittance. Nimue had left no man behind for there had been none to match the vision she carried in her head of a man, strong and worthy who would champion the weak and fight for justice.<br/><br/>But today, Nimue wanted only apples and sunshine.<br/><br/>“I’m going to the valley for apples,” she called out to no one in particular but knowing that someone would hear her.<br/><br/>“Take the dragon,” a voice rang through the stone walls. “There are marauders about.”<br/><br/>Nimue laughed with a sound of merry silver bells.<br/><br/>“I have no wealth, no riches. I am but a poor lady of the lake. None will trouble me.” She said with a toss of her head, tugging the basket high on her arm.<br/><br/>“You have beauty and a firm body. Many a woman has been troubled for much less.” retorted the voice.<br/><br/>Shaking her head, Nimue let herself out and began the descent, reveling in the warmth of the sun on her pale skin.