CHAPTER 28
Inside his mental landscape, George rolled and tumbled away from the stone cottage he had built as a shelter from Cernunnos, months ago. A hot wind blasted him ceaselessly until, at last, he fetched up against a low wall, like a gold nugget hugging the ridge of a miner’s pan against the flow of the swirling water.
He heard his father’s voice, dimly, and then followed his thoughts—he’s going to go after Angharad and the child! He strove to open his eyes, to raise his body, but nothing moved. He couldn’t even alter his shallow breaths. He remembered his father’s thought, that soon even the automatic breathing would stop, and he panicked, scrambling away in his mind from the pillar of dirty white light and smoke rising from where his stone shelter had been, and looked for some pl
