Myfanwy takes in the measure of Megan's possessions. Although the place is a clutter of dried herbs, woven corn twists and strange tools, it also has a sense of order and purpose to it.
"Arawn? No, not him I think. His spawn? Maybe. Maybe it is of the dead. Green eyes? Yes, that was her. Eyes of green and hair of gold. Angharad." Megan stares into the fire as she speaks, winding her long grey hair around a gnarled finger. "Angharad, Queen of the May. She had flowers in her hair, like Blodeuedd, in that story. But now she's gone, and the flowers are withered. She was with child, I know, I examined her. Was it his? She never said. That was the talk. It was his right, as the lord's son, they said. But he went off to war, lords and kings, always fighting. They never found her. Only the flowers. Now she walks in the woods above the Dinas.
"Is it her? Is it her vengeance? When he came back, took up his birthright. Then our town was cursed. Strange dreams and strange deaths." Megan looks up from the fire into the eyes of those listening. "In the woods above the town. They found the flowers, they never found her, but she walks there at night. Green eyes and golden hair and a gown of white."