Sigh.

It was good, so good, just to be back home. To listen to the wind rustle through the heather nearby and watch the birds circle in the eddies high above him. The misty smell of water-laden air off the loch could not steal his contentment with any real or perceived threat of rain. The rocks dug into his back, reminding him of strength�the inflexibility of this wilderness.

He could lie here for the rest of the day, he suspected. Sigh. Just to rest and feel the sense of eternity bound up in the earth beneath him. If he closed his eyes, he could imagine that flow of strength and surety seep up around him and take him down whole and alive, trusting and subjugated. He could hear the heart of the stone, the busy hum of life living all around him. In the core, in his bones, through his soul, he could draw power from this wild land. It would take a little time to attune to it�to tap into it�but it had always given him strength before. Today should be no different�

Footsteps intruded, along with a familiar tingle. He clenched his eyes against it and grappled for the rapport of the land again, as if a toy dropped ... or a fond friend lost.

"What are you doing, Connor?" curiously asked Duncan from above him.

Connor sighed and shifted slightly, eyes on the sky. Count on the younger Scot to intrude on him. "I'm listening to the ground," he said, knowing how foolish that must sound.

Silence.

Then the shuffle of someone sitting down close by ... close enough to touch and feel the warmth coming off his skin. Duncan was staring up into the sky beside him, flat on his back. His outstretched fingers brushed Connor�s, establishing contact and trust. A connection between immortals and the immortal land.

"Help me to hear what you hear, Connor," he said simply.

A pause, to choke back feelings provoked from nowhere. "Aye, Duncan. Close your eyes and listen with me...."

MacNair
March 26, 2002

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