He ignored Heather’s voice calling behind him. He didn’t want her understanding just now. He wanted to be alone. He wanted to think. Think? What was there to think? Somehow he was expected to determine not only where this battle would take place but where it should. He had to choose. Was there any place in Britain where the advantage would be on Arthur’s side? No, that wasn’t the way to approach this. Creatures like Morgan and her allies could appear anywhere, could sully anything. Then was there some “cosmically right” place for this battle to happen, someplace that only he, being half Eldritch and half mortal, could determine? He walked on and on, his staff angrily jabbing the ground with every step. These and other thoughts bounced fruitlessly around in his head. He lost track of where he was and didn’t care. Somewhere on the snow-spattered barren fells, somewhere climbing mountains and crossing valleys. The battle could take place here or there or anywhere. How was he to know?
