Exton

The click of keys is soft. Tori is returning emails, and corresponding with what Grace likes to call her agents. Agents of what, Grace had no idea. Torrent was stretched out on the couch, althought she knew just how lightly he slept.

Grace lays still, breathing in the soft sounds. After so many years alone, having people who care this deeply almost scares her. Her thoughts drift to the quiet plot where her husband was buried more than thirty years before. She smiles. Jack has always taken such good care of the grounds. Now she knows him and appreciates the sweet man behind the sarcasm.

Her plot has a bench near it and space for a headstone. But she didn't want a plain stone, unless it really LOOKED like a stone. She decides to talk to Jack, ask what he thinks would look nice. Her husband had wanted nothing more than a small marker, but he had loved flowers, so instead she had planted a garden. Maybe a small statuary. She could talk to one of her artists.

She doesn't want to be buried. Cremated, after the Misters Sweeney and Mole take their preferences... her ashes spread in the woods... make her plot somewhere nice to sit in the cemetery. So many older people visit their loved ones there, like her. A nice place to sit. That would be lovely. She didn't think Mathias would mind. Maybe she should have Jack ask him. Just in case.

Torrent hadn't looked well when they got out of the jeep. By the time they had helped her to bed, he looked much better. The metal of the jeep had taken a toll on him, and she knew he had fed her energy earlier, just like Tomas. He needs to stop. She sends a silent prayer to Herne, asking him to guide her friends and adopted family through the days to come.

Rest Graclyn. Mathias has no problem with your plans. He has loved his flowers for all these years, just as he has loved you. Torrent will not listen to your pleas. He has sworn to make your passing as easy as he can. Soon Graclyn. Soon I will bring you home to My Woodlands.

She feels the words more than hears them. Tori's typing stills. Torrent rustles, waking. There is a muffles conversation in the living room, then quiet. She is sure they have felt His presence. A few moments later soft footprints enter her room. Her own voice is quiet, a mere whisper, but she knows they can hear her.

"It is alright my dears. My Lord Herne was merely making a visit. It won't be long now. Tori? Will you make a few notes for me? Something I want done when I... cross the Veil..."