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Babd scrunched her brow. Grainne's attempt to explain her strange idiom hadn't done much to assuage her puzzlement. "What are you, anyway?"

Grainne laughed. Babd wasn't one to mince words. "I am a dryad, dear."

Babd squinted. "What's a dryad? I've never seen anyone like you in any of our villages..."

"I'm not from any of the surrounding villages. Your father took me, I think, as much out of vengeance against a druid... the druid who brought me to this world."

Babd sighed. So many questions. What to ask first? Unsure where to start, she just asked them at once, in rapid succession. "Wait, why did my dad want revenge on a druid? The druids are peaceable people... and what do you mean a druid summoned you? Summoned you from where?"

Grainne pressed her lips together. "From Annwn."

Babd rolled her eyes. Of course, Grainne would only answer one of her questions. The last one she asked. Which, it seemed to her, might have been the least important one. "Annwn? Like the otherworld? The bards speak of such a place... father says Annwn is but a faerie tale."

"It is a place likely to be featured in tales told by faeries," Grainne said. "I imagine that it is from the fairies that your bards have learned such tales. So, in that respect, I suppose your father is correct."

Babd squinted again. "You speak of faeries as if they are real..."

"Of course they are, dear child. You don't believe in fairies?"

"Father says they are made-up creatures, a people of myth the common people believe that they might cope with their miserable existences."

Grainne sighed. "It is not my place to say this... but your father knows better than that."

Babd nodded. Not that her father actually believed in faeries. But he believed in magic. The strange bag she'd seen him use proved that much. But where had he gotten it from? "My dad... he has an item... a bag..."

"An oxter bag," Grainne said.

"You've seen it?" Babd said, her jaw dropped.

Grainne took a deep breath. "He used it to intimidate the druid who'd summoned me."

"Is it... the oxter bag... something from your people? Something from dryads, or maybe faeries?"

Grainne shook her head. "How your father acquired the Oxter... it isn't my place to put the burden of such a truth on your shoulders."

Babd rolled her eyes. "Come on. You think I'm going to tell dad? You think I'm some kind of snitch?"

"Not at all," Grainne said. "I can see your truth. And your questions are genuine, your quest for truth is real. And your pain... I do not wish to add to it."

"My pain," Babd said, "is only on account of not knowing the truth... you said it yourself, my quest for truth is real."

"Be that as it may," Grainne said. "In this case, knowing the truth will only exacerbate your pain."

Babd shook her head. "I'd rather hurt from the truth than remain restless in ignorance."

"He acquired the Oxter from a sorcerer..."

"A sorcerer... you mean, like a druid?"

"Yes and no. A druid wields the natural, benevolent forces of the earth. A sorcerer... he touches something darker... he manipulates the forces of the earth, arrests them to his destructive will."

"Tell me who this sorcerer was!" Babd demanded.

"His name is Fear Doidrich," Grainne said. "But he only acts in concert with another... a force greater than any common sorcerer or druid might wield alone."

"What force are you talking about?"

"The Dagda," Grainne said. "At least that's the greatest source of his power."

"The good God?"

Grainne nodded. "That is what his name means, yes. But his goodness... it is contingent on sacrifice..."

A sharp pain struck Babd in the chest. A sacrifice... The worth of a sacrifice was not found in a god's value of an offering, but in the loss of the one who offered it. And there was only one thing Fionn had ever valued apart from his own power. Only one thing he might offer in exchange for something so powerful as the Oxter...

"Dad sacrificed mom..."

Grainne pressed her lips together. She would not confirm Babd's suspicion. But she didn't need to. Her silence spoke loudly enough. And Grainne had been right. The truth hurt... it was nearly too much to bear.