A Banshee’s Tale
The dim light of the clouded sun beamed upon the grassy vales of Lochbuies rolling hills, a bent figure dressed in grey was running her hands through the blades of grass with a frantic expression on her face.
So busy with her search she was unaware of the young man who approached, wondering what she could be looking for. “Could I help ye?”
She stumbled back in surprise at his presence, looking upon him with widened eyes. “No thank ye sir.”
“Are ye sure? Ye seem troubled?” She returned her search trying to ignore his presence. His eyes fell to something in the lengths of grass shining with what could only be from something metallic and clean. Bending his knees he lowered himself pulling it free. The young girl spotted this and crawled forward shouting. “No don’t!”
It was a woman’s comb, made of silver. Just above the handle waves of water had been etched into it, with a flawless pearl imbedded into it. Hi