The Druid sat beneath the massive oak, whose branches spread like a thousand outstretched green arms above his head. Every now and then, as the breeze stirred, leaves, and sometimes an acorn, were dislodged. The acorns the Druid collected, adding them to the pouch that hung on his belt, noting as he did so that the season was turning.
In the earth before him he had drawn a symbol: a circle, contained within which were three lines crowned with three dots.
Sometimes he gazed intently at the symbol.
Sometimes his eye was drawn to the far-off horizon.
Then he would close his eyes and think. He had much on his mind.
The sun rose higher and higher in the sky, but he was patient as he waited for the answer he sought. Yes or no. One or the other. Simple answers that carried the burden of the future.
He chanted quietly to himself to pass the time. Then he reached for his drum and began tapping away. It was the beating of strong wings that broke his rhythm. He looked up, noticing that the sun was at its peak. All the Druid could see as the large bird flew across the face of the golden orb was it’s dark outline.
The bird, a hawk he now saw, landed in the symbol. With piercing eyes, it studied the Druid, tilting its head one way and then the other as if to get the measure of the man. When it was satisfied it dropped a stone from it’s beak on to the ground.
The Druid slowly nodded. He had his answer. But it was not the one he had expected. It was not the one he had hoped for.