He found himself in the midst of a glade. And well it was, for rain was beginning to fall, and the trees protected him from the cold drops. Scissors, thread, and a spinning wheel. Why, he thought, I can get those from Mother.
Suddenly a shudder ran through him. He did not move. He knew. The unseen companion was there. Waiting, waiting - waiting for what? What event would trigger the inhuman hatred radiated by this strange creature. Always there. Never fully seen.
He rose slowly, glanced fearfully around the glade. "Come out, if you dare. I await your pleasure."
He thought he heard the rustle of leaves. Quickly he glanced upward. The leaves were indeed moving. This time they were stirred by a vagrant breeze. He shook his head.
He knew - though he knew not how - that the scissors, thread, and spinning wheel of his mother would not serve. These must come from the three sisters. The lovely ladies mentioned by Zeus. In the back of his mind he thought of stories he had heard. Perhaps, at some early age, he had heard of the three sisters. Sadly, he could not remember. Who are they, and where do they dwell?
Startled, he looked up. The leaves were again moving. This time, no breeze caused this disturbance.
A large bird, perhaps a white owl, flew rapidly through the forest and in its wake soft white down marked a trail. A trail he knew he must follow.
The skies darkened as he stalked deeper and deeper into the forest. In time the wooded vales grew even darker, and the sky no longer came to view. A thought formed in his mind, he knew not how. He knew for whom he searched.
The thought brought sweat to his brow. The Sisters of Night!
How often had he heard the legends, the strange tales. How often
had they spun the thread, how often cut it! It must be they. The
Sisters of Night!
He was lost. The trail was no longer marked ahead, and behind was only darkness. Slowly he inched forward, hoping for a clue. A simple indication of which way to proceed.