Culann pulled his parka tight, a light dusting of snow whipping across the ground at his feet. Sionann was right behind him, like him hurrying for the terminal.
A trio of thick-robed Druids scurried out to greet them.
“Scathach Ogham of the Exalted Martyrology,” the woman in the lead said, her robes brown. She gestured at her colleagues. “Armel Gallou of Golasecca and Óengus Tàillear of Cisalpina, respectively.” The Golaseccan wore robes of red, his Cisalpine brother robes of white.
“Armel!” Sionann said, stepping past Culann and throwing her arms around the smaller of the two Druids behind Ogham. “You're looking well, my friend. I haven't seen you since we pestered Proctor Bhodhsa with questions at Stonehenge. Let's get inside before the frost bites our asses.”
“Good to see you too, N
