Dispersing his question, he let himself fade into her memory, where she stood inside a field he had never seen before. She wore a red flowing robe and her eyes were closed.
At once, Rowan sensed that he was in a different time, somewhere far back in the past, the air felt different, it was almost alive.
His attention went back to the woman, Rowan observed her features, which could not be necessarily called beautiful in the conventional sense, if he were to describe it, he would call it heroic. She possessed a valiant aura that resembled a warrior.
Her body structure reminded him of Maeve, even under the flowing robe, it was not hard to catch a glimpse of the lithe figure she had. It was a physique that hid shocking power.
Far down the field was a village that seemed eerily similar to Calcutta. The farmers held their hoes and Sickles as they discussed merrily among themselves, for the harvest was bountiful.
