It had rained for an entire moon-tide. The small stream was spilling its banks, the reedy shore laid flat by the weight of constant downpours. But at last the sun was shining. The children rushed out of doors as soon as breakfast was over, pulled equally by the warm sunlight and the exciting prospect of puddles.

Ethne carried wooden bowls and cups from the morning meal in a large willow basket, to clean them in the surging waters. As she plucked rushes for scouring, she reflected on what she and Ruadh had created together in the wilderness. She was older now, and crouching on the muddy bank to clean cups and dishes was becoming hard on her knees, but she still enjoyed seeing to the details of daily life in the Forest School. Her every waking moment was spent in passing on and preserving the ancient teachings, as much for the benefit of future generations as to honor those who had gone before. The Druid might no longer hold the status they once did, but at least Ethne could be sure she was doing everything in her power to preserve the ancient ways. She was satisfied that her life was fulfilling its purpose.

When the dishes were scrubbed, rinsed, and stacked neatly in the basket to dry, Ethne clapped her hands to get the children’s attention.

“Who wants to take a walk and look for a day sign?”

“We do!” came the chorused answer from stained, muddy faces.

Walking out in search of a day sign was a favorite activity of the youngest students, because once they saw something significant—a raven, a deer, a pool, a rainbow, or any other natural feature that called attention to itself—Ethne would weave them a story.

On this day, they trooped towards a small river that wound its way through the forest. The rains had left it murky and swollen, and it was hard to calculate the depth of the waters.

“Let’s sit by the riverbank and see what creature or object calls our attention,” Ethne said.

The children arranged themselves around her like a tribe of goslings nestling against their mother and, Druid-trained, kept their silence. Ethne had taught them that to experience nature directly is the quickest and surest way to discover truth, for nature cares not what a person’s station in life might be, nor for wealth and possessions. Nature cares little if one is pauper or king, male or female. Nature just is, and until you can see something reflected in nature, it simply isn’t true.

Suddenly the silence was broken by a bright flash and a slap of water, then by rings of ripples edging towards shore. A moment later, there was a second flash and another arc of silver against the sunlight.

“It’s the salmon!” the children shrieked.

“The salmon of wisdom,” Ethne corrected, smiling. “See how they leap with ease between the worlds?”

She knew that after a long rain, the appearance of sun would bring out the flies and midges, and that the salmon would emerge, leaping for their breakfast. It was the perfect opportunity for a teaching tale.

“Deep beneath the ocean, there is a sacred well that is the source of all wisdom. It is known as the Well of Segais. Around it grow nine magical hazel trees that bear purple nuts. There are five magical salmon that live in that well, and as you know, salmon is the oldest creature on the face of the earth, the first to be created and thus the closest to the Source of life.

“Every time a purple hazelnut falls into the well, one of the five salmon leaps to catch it, and every time they swallow a nut, they grow a spot; by now the salmon must be covered with many spots, because those fish are very old.”

“Why do they keep eating those nuts?” asked Cathail.

“Because they want to be wise,” Ethne answered. “We Druid are just like the salmon. The hazelnuts represent knowledge, and each time a salmon swallows a nut, she becomes wiser. We too seek the sweetness that is hidden within the hard shell of learning, and when we have developed our wisdom and perfected our five senses, we learn to do as the salmon do and find our way back to the Source, to the waters of our birth.”

“I like to eat the salmon,” said Gaine Óg.

“Yes, so do I. Maybe if we ask nicely, Ruadh and Damán will build a weir and catch a few for our supper,” Ethne answered, picking herself up from the damp grass to lead her charges back to the settlement, hidden deep in the forest.