The warbling note of a carnyx echoed through the valley, carried far and wide by the cold night air. Cadoc stood in the centre of a great stone circle, staring at the central altar on which were piled a small mountain of sticks. His niece and nephew were huddled at his side. The boy, Tom, shivered in cold and fear. His sister, Cerian, pulled him close, her arms wrapped around his shoulders. The girl had spirit and had thus far shrugged off his awkward attempts to comfort her with defiant anger. At least she had stood her ground. The boy had run and hid when the Weaver attempted to reintroduce him.