I playfully slapped his hand away and smiled through my eggs. “You’re so fresh.”

“Come!” He grinned and lifted me off the log and onto his broad back. “You can finish the rest as we travel.”

“Yeah, great,” I said as I brushed his thick hair out of my leaf plate so I could eat the last bites of my breakfast, and seriously wished for some coffee.

The centaurs broke camp quickly, and soon the army was on its way. I had to admit it was a gorgeous morning. It was still too damn early, but even I could appreciate an exuberant display of Mother Nature Morningness. The sun rose over the forest, shining precociously with a clear, brilliant tint. Today our path took us more toward the picturesque bank that had been growing ever steeper. It was beautiful, though, lined with weeping willows, cottonwoods, and I was even pretty sure I glimpsed an occasional wild-cherry tree. A thousand centaurs’ hooves muted the noise of the river, but its majesty was visible when the foliage thinned out, and its tumultuous rush downriver impressed me.

About midday we paused long enough to pass around dried meat and hard biscuits. ClanFintan deposited me near the bank so I could stretch my legs. While I was attempting a runner’s lunge, the direction of the wind changed. It had been blowing softly from east to west, now it originated in the west, and it was blowing harder. It lifted the branches of the willows, making them look like a woman’s long hair blowing in the breeze.

I turned my face into the breeze, shaking out my own hair, liking the way it was lifted off my shoulders. I breathed deeply, stretching my sore muscles, and…

“Shew! What is that nasty smell?” The breeze brought with it a decidedly gaseous scent.

“Ufasach Marsh.” ClanFintan wrinkled his nose as he, too, tested the air.

“Ugh, it’s horrible. Smells like my grandma’s compost heap.”

“Those who live near the marsh say it has its own unique beauty.”

“Yuck—they can have it. How close is it, anyway?” I walked over to stand on the precipice of the bank, squinting and shielding my eyes from the reflection of the midday sun off the turbulent water. I could barely make out the far bank. I could tell it wasn’t high like the eastern bank, but all I could see were more willows—no clinging moss hanging from branches or snakes or alligators.

“What I have been told is that it begins about the length of twenty-five centaurs inland from the western bank, and stretches almost the entire breadth of the land from the Temple of the Muse to the northern border of Epona’s grounds.” He shrugged his broad shoulders. “I have never traveled through the marsh. Centaurs avoid swampy ground.”

“Well, I’m with you on that one. Snakes, leeches, stinky water…yeesh! Makes my skin crawl just thinking about it.”

Movement of the troops behind us caught our attention. I stretched one more time, then held up my arms so that ClanFintan could redeposit me on his back, and we could take up our position at the head of the army.

Smallpox, or no smallpox—I was going to be really glad to get to the Temple of the Muse. My butt felt like it was adhering to my husband’s back, which is not a particularly good thing.

The day progressed pretty much as the previous day. The farther north we traveled, the thicker the forest became. Soon the line of centaurs was forced to re-form and travel in columns of twos. But they kept up their ground-eating canter. Even though I’d witnessed it before, their stamina amazed me. ClanFintan’s breath came just as easily after he’d been traveling for several hours as it had this morning before the sun had risen. I’m telling you, centaurs could seriously kick butt in an aerobics class…My head snapped up and I realized I’d been nodding off.

ClanFintan’s head began to tilt back in my direction and I spoke before he could.

“I know—” I cuddled up against him, and he looped his arm over mine “—you won’t let me fall.”

“Never,” he repeated.

I smiled against his warm back and let myself drift off into a deep sleep.

I was in a parent–teacher conference with one of our school’s counselors and our vice principal in charge of discipline. Across the table from me sat a student and his mommy. Even in my dreams I’m too professional to mention any names, but I will describe said student as a replica of The Missing Link, if The Link had been introduced to marijuana, so that his general appearance had become reminiscent of a Neanderthal-like sloth. His mommy was blond, perky and extremely well dressed—begging the question: just exactly how much alcohol and/or recreational drugs had she consumed while he was in utero?

I was just explaining to Mommy, accompanied by a standing ovation from the counselor and vice principal (who, by the way, was being played by Pierce), that her sixteen-year-old “baby boy” was neither under-challenged nor too bright to be interested in sophomore English, he was simply a lazy, whiny, pot-smoking brat who could be the poster child for why we should bring caning into America’s public schools…

…When I was sucked off of my husband’s back and found myself suspended over the middle of the violently churning river.

“I don’t mean any offense by this, but this time you interrupted one of my top ten favorite dreams,” I said to the air around me. “And I was just getting to the real fantasy part where the vice principal actually backs up a teacher.” There was no response, but my body did begin hurling north, following the river.

“Someday, do you think I’ll be able to sleep without these little…excursions?” I asked aloud.

Patience, Beloved.

“Not one of my virtues,” I mumbled.

Then my attention was captivated by the huge building I was rapidly approaching. It was a domed edifice, and even from a distance the stately arches of carved marble were impressive. As I got closer I saw that what I took at first to be one enormous building was really several graceful structures, joined together by elaborate walkways and gardens. The center building was the focus, and the surrounding structures were situated like spokes in a wheel. I was close enough now to see that women dressed in flowing robes walked the pathways between buildings. Many of their heads were tilted together, as if they were in the midst of lively discussions.

Although all of the buildings were beautiful, the central building was the most impressive. I studied it, intrigued by the lifelike statues that ringed its entrance. In the garden before it, a woman was speaking to a group of young women sitting all around her feet. She gestured gracefully with one hand, and with the other she held an exquisite cane carved of ivory. Her beauty was so striking that if she hadn’t moved I would have thought her one of the perfect marble statues.

As I hovered nearer, she suddenly stopped speaking, and cocked her head like she was listening to a voice in her mind. Then her face broke into a delighted smile, and she tilted her head up, speaking directly to me.

“Welcome, Beloved of Epona!”

The girls at her feet (I was close enough now to see that they, too, were unusually beautiful) murmured excitedly and began searching the air as though they were trying to see me.

Thalia, Incarnate Muse of Comedy, the voice in my mind volunteered.

“Thank you, Thalia,” I answered politely, trying to project my spirit voice.

She cocked her head again, like she could hear but not see me, and asked, “Are you and the centaurs close?”

“We’ll be here a little after dusk,” I yelled.

Her smile broadened and she turned her head, speaking to the girl nearest her feet. “Fiona, run to the main temple and announce that the centaurs will be here shortly after dusk!”

Delighted cries and giggles went up from the healthy, obviously smallpox-free girls. I wondered if we had been premature in isolating humans from this temple.

“We will be pleased to welcome you this evening, Lady Rhea.” She tilted her face up, and I had the sudden realization that her eyes could not see my spirit body, or anything else. Her milky orbs had no pupils—she was blind.

All I had time to do was sputter a quick “Goodbye!” and I was on the move again, this time heading directly into the west, where the sun had already begun its descent.

The land surrounding the Muses’ temple was reflective of the women’s beauty. The mountains to the north made a picturesque backdrop to a valley painted with fields of wildflowers and irrigated with bubbling streams. I was preoccupied with gawking at the scenery beneath me, so when Laragon Castle loomed suddenly before me, I felt myself startle in surprise.

Torches burned brightly from the battlements and the interior rooms and courtyards. Tall, winged figures scurried around the surrounding grounds, shooing away flocks of dark birds so that they could drag pieces of bodies into a gruesome pile at the edge of the castle grounds.