We are deep in the wood still, far from the river, small pale breathers in a tight woven darkness. I turn to the Ferryman. “Do not leave me. Every moment has its crossing, its stillness and turbulence. Do not leave me. I need your buoyancy and your conviction.”
“I’ll not leave you,” he says.
The Deer Man is there ahead, almost hidden among the trees. His is an ancient power. As the Ferryman is ancient. And the Wellspring. I can feel in their ancientness a deep deep rootedness. How did I come to be in such company? How did I come to feel so completely at home here?
The Deer Man holds out his hand to me and I take it. We meld into the space between things. The air is suddenly bright with flickering leaves.