by Gavin Green
Chapter 9
Delicate, sun-kissed fingers played along the seemingly tender bark of the white birch trees that grew on the south side of the small highland lake, the colors of autumn remaining only by a whim. Saraid casually strolled through the slender trees with their last fiery-leafed efforts before they succumbed to winter's grasp.
She lightly ducked under the welcoming shade of a brown-vined weeping willow, and looked through the hanging branches as the setting sun turned the wispy clouds various vibrant hues in the dimming sky. That haven in northern Scotland was always most beautiful when in its colorful annual decline, and Saraid visited the secluded pocket often.
Her sun-kissed bare feet came to a halt on the mossy ground as Saraid looked off inquisitively. There was a gentle alteration to the ether; one of her many glamours had vanished. She searched within herself to find the origin, the source of a near-tangible aspect of her own making.
'Ah, a curse has been lifted', she thought while resting against the trunk of the willow. Saraid sat still while she inwardly sought the source, and soon found it. It was Simon, her angry lover from long ago. He'd found kin; his nearest descendant, and so quickly. She'd thought his torment would have lasted longer, as it should have.
Saraid remembered balancing Simon's punishment with his deepest wish, should he somehow free himself of mankind's ire. Remotely inspecting that emotional craving, she found the mortal's wish and smiled. 'To be believed, Simon?' she thought. 'To be accepted, to find friendship? That was your desire? Oh, Simon, you simple fool'. Saraid shrugged as she reclined against the tree in the gathering dark; if that was all his limited imagination allowed, then so be it.
Then she wondered how it came to be that her sentence for him was cut short. She absently stroked tanned fingers through her striated green and white hair, making a mental note to pay Simon a visit soon to see who negated her righteous curse.
