Orielle guided the dapple-grey gelding along the narrow trail traversing the steep slope of the mountain.
Lights winked in the trees ahead, like the spectrum glints in her mother’s diamond pendant, a gift for the spell she’d worked for the king.
She reined in the horse to watch the dancing lights. On the trek to this height, she’d seen the rainbow-colored lights a few times. The old man who had warned her of the Wilding said that she would see strange things, but this strangeness was beautiful. The lights flitted among the autumn-changed leaves. A cluster darted in and out, winking in unison. Light reflected from sun-glinted water moved randomly. These lights had a fascinating pattern.