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Rhiannon lay in the long grass of the high meadow and watched the clouds drift across the sky forming and re-forming, building keeps and beasts, men and monsters, mountains and rivers. Always the high meadows had brought her the peace of absolute freedom, but she found no peace there nownot in the soft, warm air of a sunny day, nor by moonlight, nor in mist or rain. |
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She found no peace anywhere. In the flames that burned in her mother's hearth, a dark face formed and flickered. When she hunted, she found herself turning to look for the astonished and delighted expression of a laughing companion who had kept pace and had not outrun heralthough he could have. And when she sang, she felt the draw of the longing in the green-gold-flecked eyes that had added a meaning to the words describing the love of the heroes for their ladies. |
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It was not only when she sang that Rhiannon felt the pull of Simon's desire. Often she woke in the night with the feeling that someone had whispered |
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