“They had each a sip of honey in their beaks. They left the three sips of honey with us, and they took away from us three sips of our blood.”
“The ending,” said Naoise, “is not so sweet as the beginning.”
“How do you interpret that dream?” his brother asked.
“I think that three people will come to us carrying a sweet, deceitful message from Conachúr.”
“A dream is a dream,” he soothed her.
“And my dreams!” she cried. “How many times have we fled on the advice of my dream? and as we looked back we saw that happening which we fled from. Is that true, brother?”
“It is true. Our Deirdre has second sight.”
Naoise turned his shoulder along the grass, and laid his ear to the wind.
“I hear a shout,” he said.
“It is some man of these parts giving a hunting call,” she answered.