Keith wondered if it was Fate who'd led him to meet Gen for the first time. Thinking back on his memories and doodling in his notebook while the teacher lectured, he smiled...

Kirran was roused by the sound of beating wings. Stirring on his soft bed of heather and bracken, he peered out from beneath his comfy nest of furs. There was a raven perched on the edge of his window, peering in at him. He drew back slightly when the raven looked at him. The creature had a fiercely burning gaze.
"Oy, get lost," he mumbled without much conviction.
The raven was emboldened, and it leapt down into his 'room'.
Kirran rolled out of his bed, striking out with one hand. The raven squawked and took off, shooting out the window. Kirran stumbled after it, yelling into the night.
"Yeah, mangy bird, and don't come back!"
The raven shot into the sky, a sweeping silhouette against the night backdrop, skimming over the treetops and down the other side of the hill. Kirran blinked. Odd behaviour for a raven, yes? As the crow flies...it's crows that fly straight, he thought. Not ravens...
And then he saw the tufts of smoke, curling above the leaves in the distance.
"What?" he whispered in disbelief. "Who's out at this time of night?"
He shrugged it off and crawled back into his nest of sheepskins, snuggling down to sleep. But the strange scene still lingered in his mind.

Casting nervous and wary glances around the copse, Kirran held the torch high. Drawing his cloak closer around him, he began to call out.
"Hey, Mutton, are you out there? Here, Mutton, here, erm, boy."
Okay, so Mutton was a sadistic name for a lamb, but Mutton was Kirran's pet, and he'd had the right to name it whatever he wanted. Or whatever popped into his head when the little bleating creature was placed in his arms. Kirran sighed. This was the second time in five days that Mutton had wandered away from the fold while they were grazing in the pasture. Kirran had left the fold in care of his father, Aidan, and come in search of his woolly friend. He sniffed the air cautiously. A flowery scent hung in the air, something akin to wild lilies. He eyed the barren trees that circled the copse. Something was amiss...
"Come on, Mutton," he called out, a note of desperation mixing with anger entering his voice. "I won't feed you any, erm...clovers when we get home if you don't come now." What a weak threat.
But relief flooded him when a small woolly bundle slunk out of the shadows, chastised and... sheepish. Kirran swooped down and scooped him up, holding him close.
"Bad Mutton," he scolded gently. Mutton kicked a little, bleating pitifully. Kirran sighed, glancing over his shoulder. The sun had long since gone down. "You made me miss supper." Kirran turned and started for the slope.
"Where are you going?" a voice demanded.
He whirled, and the flame of his torch dipped, casting dancing shadows on a looming figure. In a long black robe, leaning on a spear, the person painted a dark doom. He jumped back when the person started, a blur of movement. He gulped when he felt the point of the spear a hair's breadth from his throat.
"Give me back the lamb!"
"No! Mutton's mine!" Kirran protested, and knew instantly that he'd said the wrong thing.
That fear was confirmed when the dark figure moved closer - and destroyed when it burst out laughing. The hood fell back to reveal a tiny girl, gasping and giggling.
"You named your pet lamb 'mutton'?"
Kirran gaped. He'd been afraid of her?
"Well," she finally offered, stifling her snickers, "you were extremely brave, standing up to me and my spear like that. Most people would from one of us."
"Who's 'us'?" Kirran asked. She was so small!
"Us." She twirled her spear, red armour flashing in the torchlight. "We're the warrior Druids."
Kirran's eyes went wide, and he clutched Mutton close.
She winked boldly, spear tracing a complicated pattern in the air.
"Hello. I'm Gen."