Memories after that are somewhat different. I was about three, perhaps four. I remember a whirling sky, a bogeyman flying backwards, and being carried by strong arms. Regardless of what went on around me, I knew I was safe from harm. I slept, and woke again, and I was in a more stable place. I sneezed from the hay, and was comforted by those same strong hands again. Horses gently snickered in the background. It was lulling, their sounds, and I was soon fast asleep again.
I was in a place that I came to know as home, at least until I was about fourteen. Rural countryside, long summers, brisk winters, a farm where something is always happening, at least from the perspective of a little girl. Dworkin made a fair amount of sense in those days, and he tended not to be hunchbacked, at least around visitors. Strong, intelligent, perceptive, and seemed to know everything under the sun. Any question I had, he could answer, in as great a depth as I could comprehend.
The years flew by. I grew up. When my mind was able to comprehend, Dworkin told me of the greater reality of life, of the Pattern, and the Logrus, the myriad of Shadows that existed between these two poles. It was all quite fascinating, and I started to itch for exploring more than I could at the moment.
There were a few times when Oberon would visit, usually to spend some time cloistered away with Dworkin, but he would usually find time to see me, and play with me, or tell interesting stories. From what I could remember, his visits became more frequent as I became older, until one day when he spent a lot of time with Dworkin. I was sent out of the house on an errand, an excuse, really. When I came back, they were arguing loudly. I never found out who was arguing on which side, but it stopped when I came in. They both looked down at me, glared at each other for a couple of seconds, and then Oberon broke the stare.
He looked at me, smiled, and said that Dworkin and he had agreed that I was now ready to begin my real learning. I was to pack my favourite stuff, for they would be going on a long trip and we would probably not be coming back for some time. I was elated, and yet saddened by having to leave the friends that I had made, and the animals, even though they were made of Shadow. Dworkin and Oberon stood around, occasionally muttering to each other, or staring at each other if I was close, while I wandered around picking up bits and pieces, and maybe putting them down again. They were not rushing me, and eventually I made my final selection, ultimately taking very little.
I loaded up my stuff onto one of the special horses that Oberon had brought, and made friends with it. The three of us then rode out of the farm, taking roads that had never existed before. Everything changed. Intellectually, I knew about shifting between Shadow, but experiencing it was something else altogether.
Of Spring and Bloom and Youth,
Of Birth and Violence and the Base for Truth.
Of Summer and Growth and Chance,
Of Reality and Lies made Estrange.
Of Autumn and Life and Strength,
Of Sight of a Limited Length.
Of Winter and Age and Death,
Of Mind and Body Bereft.
And One Year to Hold Them,
And One Year Starts Again.