Tristan had been walking about town, for once without his loyal best friend and brother in every sense of the word, gathering supplies for their trek to find the demon with the gargoyles. He also needed time - he had to clear his head. And Manny knew. He always knew. He could read Tristan like a book.
As he turned the corner, a satchel over his back with some basic supplies, he froze. That voice was so very familiar. Immediately, he thought of Filian. But she had never called him that. Her terms were more... private. And Manny called him Twisty. The only person who would call him Trist was...
He turned and saw a lithe woman running toward him. His jaw dropped in amazement. This was like an illusion - it couldn't be real. He watched her progress until she stood before him. He looked down at her - all Tuatha men were taller than the women, but the women were no slouch themselves. His mouth was still agape as he looked into the eyes of his mother.
"Nimue?" he whispered, his eyes never leaving hers. He was dumbfounded.