Trembling, the dwarf advanced a step or two.
"Oona! Oona! It is I, Nial! Speak to me!"
"Stand back, Nial: the woman Anabal, wife of Fergus, is speaking to me."
With a groan he staggered to one side. Was she here, then, and not still sitting on the great rock overlooking the Strath? Sure, then, a spirit must she be: and no wraith now, for his eyes were void of her.
But for all his dread, he must guard his lamb. If only he knew one of the spells in the Book, that he had placed at Oona's feet!
"And what will An—what will she be saying to you, my bird?"
"She says: 'Leanabh, dh' èirich dha; dh' èirich domh; eiridh dhuit!'"
Nial slowly repeated the words below his breath: "Child, it has happened to him; it has happened to me; it will happen to you." Oona must be ill, he thought; as Murdo was two winters ago, that time he came back from the Strath, on the last night of the year, lurching and swaying, and saying wild, meaningless things.
"And what else will she be saying to you, birdeen?"
"'Thig thu gu h'anamoch!'"