On Beltane eve Marion goes to bed early. She places sprigs of heather and mint beneath her pillow. Her room in the priory is sparse, with a lone straw bed and one window where the beloved moon shines its silver light. Marion, an orphan, has been raised here by the good Prioress. She has been well cared for. But she longs for more, she longs to be free of the confines of the walls, the trap she never asked for.
If Marion wakes in this night surely it will be the fairies come to take her away to their underground home. Each year she prays for this; each year it does not happen.
On Beltane morning she rises at dawn. She goes with the other girls to the gardens where they collect hawthorne and wild flowers. They weave garlands to wear on their heads. They return to the village where…
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