Grabbing the handle, I gave the spade a twist. The ground shuddered and the trees shook their branches, like limbs being stretched after a long sleep. It was open. Now it must be protected, if not by my death, then by my life. I shifted my grip on the spade, holding it like the spear it suddenly feels like it was always meant to be - this is it's destiny as much as mine. My pursuer had not fulfilled his role - my blood had not yet been spilled. They or he or she would not try again. Not now. A Dunloch was standing over the sacred doorway at the fairy bridge and it had been opened. They or he or she had failed to prevent it. Another shot rang out - a bullet not meant for me - and a dull thud followed. I lowered my weapon, I no longer needed defending.
I knelt, scooped and swept away the dirt until I uncovered the inscription that had been sung and chanted and whispered in the halls of every residence ever occupied by the members of my family tree. I whispered the words once in homage.
Pulling the knife from its place in the scabbard wrapped around my thigh. Chanting the sacred words, I drew my knife across my palm and let the blood drop.
