In the deep forests of Vaethiniel there live three women - one very young, one very old, and one between the valleys of age.
Once twenty winters have passed, the greatest and brightest moon rises over the sleeping trees. In this night, the old magic is at its most powerful. It is said the three women, with their ancient gifts, gather around a cauldron that mirrors the sky. In this, the secrets of the next twenty winters are stirred, and the three women peer forth with the wise faces of owls, for only owls can read the words of the moon.
The story was in part inspired by the Perigee Moon we had on March 19th. The moon truly was blindingly bright, and we had the good fortune in Connecticut of having a cloudless night, so the true brilliance of this rare moon was at its peak. I couldn't help but wonder what ancient cultures thought when the moon suddenly appeared bigger and brighter every 18 years.
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