Anya was finishing up the day at the bakery and Angus was standing there on the other side of the counter looking like the weight of the world was on his shoulders. Wiping her hands on the cloth and coming through the kitchen door to lean on the counter.

"Angus, what?s wrong?"

He stood there staring at the ground and shoved a crumbled piece of paper to her.

"What is this" You need to look at me." It meant bad news, and rather read it, she wanted to hear it.

It took him a long time before he could look her in the eyes. "I'm sorry, Anya. I couldn't do it, I tried, I've been trying for months to tell you, but I couldn't."

Patient as he tried to explain what had happened. "Angus, you know I've always said, tell me true. Do we need to go over this again?"

Shaking his head. "No, Anya. No, I know what you said. Tell you no matter what the news, tell you true and know it all works out for the best. I tried to tell you, Anya, but I heard you crying every night, since.." He felt horrible.

"Since what Angus" Please tell me, I'll try not to be mad at you."

He wasn't afraid of her being mad at him; but of breaking herself. "Two months ago, a dark skinned man came here and handed me that note. I read it because he came in and left, I thought it was about Julien since he was gone after you two.." Letting the words hang in air.

She felt her heart sink. "And?" Instead of leaning, she sat down.

"I opened it, and Julien died. No one told you how, the note only said he was gone." Sinking on the stool and daring to look at Anya.

It took a few minutes for his words to sink in. "What' What?" Shock, anger and realization that it was done " he left her. Opening the letter and all it said is he was dead. The piece of paper left on the counter and she vanished to the kitchen.

Angus followed her. "Anya, I'm sorry."

"GET OUT ANGUS, GET OUT."

Three days later and a broken ankle she stood at the tree where they would go to talk and love on each other. The ribbon and arrowhead put in the ground where he dug a small hole and covered it up. She sat on the ground and talked to the Oak.

"I tried to tell you what was going through my heart after I was kidnapped, but I couldn't, I pushed you away because I was scared after we lost the baby, our baby. You and I were so different and you said you would never leave, but you did. I know it wasn't your fault, your family was important, but when you left me, I was trying to tell you not to go. I believed you Julien, I was waiting for you to come back, but now I have to quit you. I have to quit believing in faith. I hope where ever you are, there is peace and your spirit walks with the old mother and the love you lost.?

Laying down next to small hole she left the arrowhead and placed her hand over it. Anya cried herself to sleep and tried to figure out how to really say goodbye.

A few hours later, she woke up and to say goodbye, there would be one last memorial. She'd plant a tree and say goodbye.

Saturday was a day promised to his children, a family day, a day of laughter and joy, a full day with an early breakfast, then a riding lesson for Zoee, then a fencing lesson for Zander, then lunch, then an afternoon of sailing on the lake in the glen. The two were almost asleep before their father's great black stallion, Duff, carried them all home, nodding at the suppertable, and asleep before they could be tucked in properly for the night.

But the Spaniard could have had no more perfect day.

Taking his own respite in the rocker on the porch, with a well-deserved Scotch his compaion, as he rocked he had seen the explosion of fireworks over the tops of the trees, southward in the direction of the glen. Curious as to the occasion, he hadn't known it was another one of Rhydin's multitude of celebratory holidays, but it very well could be. Ella was not at home yet. There was no sign of Jon or Maddy or Cam....and tonight that was a good thing, for ofttimes the popping up or in and out of those well-meaning but spectral guardians of his wife's tended to crowd up his life. Sometimes they were helpful, but sometimes they were just downright bothersome.

He did appear to be alone, except for the sleeping children in the next rooms. With no one to ask, he resolved to purchase a newspaper in the morning to search for some clue, finished his Scotch, and moved inside, not bothering to latch the doors behind him.....magic would only open them again for whoever willed it....so why spend the energy"

He found the notice for Julien in the morning's paper. So, what Anya had told him was true, all too true. The paper gave little details and they would not have mattered anyway. What mattered was the passing of a life from this world, a man he knew briefly, but wishing it could have been more. A man who the Spaniard had seen demonstrate a deepseated love for Anya, willing to fight for her and risk his life for hers, destraught upon seeing her pain and suffering. A man of honor and finally, the Spaniard hoped now, a man at peace. He would have attended the service in the glen last night, for obviously that was the occasion for the fireworks, if he had known about it.

He found time to pay his respects on Sunday, the Lord's Day, walking in the cemetary, a place not unfamiliar to him, anyway, having spent some nights there to accompany Ella. Where, exactly, would not matter - all that mattered were thoughts, prayers sent to the Spirit, and that could be done anywhere. He chose a small bench placed underneath a willow of many years standing, the tree so large that its branches plummed out from the tree's center top and spread outward to almost drag the ground, like a huge umbrella. Antonio smiled as he took his seat. His grandmother used to call these trees wigwam trees and he spent many hours playing underneath one, darting in and out of the branches, when he was a small boy. He thought this a fitting place to remember Julien.

In prayer to God for the life of Julien Tenfeather, Antonio gave thanks for having known the man, however briefly, and asked God to gather him swiftly to his side, reciting in Julien's honor a prayer to the Great Spirit, first spoken by Chief Yellow Lark, of the Lakota.

"Oh Great Spirit, Whose voice I hear in the winds, And whose breath gives life to all the world, hear me! I am small and weak, I need your strength and wisdom.

Let me walk in beauty, and make my eyes ever behold the red and purple sunset. Make my hands respect the things you have made and my ears sharp to hear your voice.

Make me wise so that I may understand the things you have taught my people. Let me learn the lessons you have hidden in every leaf and rock. I seek strength, not to be greater than my brother, but to fight my greatest enemy " myself. Make me always ready to come to you with clean hands and straight eyes. So when life fades, as the fading sunset my spirit may come to you without shame."

We send back to you one of your beloved children, Julien Tenfeather. We ask that you care for him until we meet again. In Jesus' name, I pray.... Amen.