Page 121 of Keeper of the Light
“My ma says,” offered the fair-haired lad, a winsome smile dancing over his face, “the strength o’ Glen Bronach comes fro’ the fire o’ love and loyalty in our hearts.”
The third lad said nothing. His green eyes narrowed as he tracked a cloud that looked precisely like a dragon, driven before the fair wind. It took him a moment to think over what his two companions had said. Not quickly or rashly did he give his opinion, for words mattered. That he did know.
At last he declared, “My ma says our strength lies in the magic. And that comes fro’ the light.”
“Mayhap,” said the brown-haired lad, “it comes fro’ all three. We maun keep the strength o’ the stone and hold to it.”
“We maun keep the fire burning,” added the lad with the sweet smile, “wi’out fail.”
“We maun keep the magic safe always,” said the lad with the wise green eyes. “And that will protect the glen.”
For one solemn moment, they contemplated it in agreement. As everyone knew, there was power in threes.
The black-haired lad gathered his legs beneath him and, his energy restored, leaped to his feet.
“Race ye to the rise! And the first one to Grandfather Iain’s cairn is the keeper o’ the glen!”
“Silly.” The fair-haired lad shoved him affectionately. “Are we no’ all sworn to that?”
They ran off through the sunlight leaving a trail of laughter, with the black-headed lad leading the way.
The End
