A white hawk would arrive before Grianne Goldhand with a note strapped to its leg. It would read ‘Your husband is dead.’
Her arms going numb, she’d drop the note. Her pale face now red and wet with tears, she’d let out a cry, ”...No. No... No, no, no...”
She would wrap her arms around her, having suddenly felt a great cold wash over her.
Looking over to the bed of their small home, she’d see her daughter sleeping there. Grianne would close her eyes for a moment before lifting herself up from the hard wood chair, grabbing the note from the stone floor. She’d throw it into the fireplace nearby, the note hurting too much to keep, before walking to the double bed and laying next to her daughter.
Holding her daughter, the last of her late husband, she’d sing a lullaby. This was more to help her than her sleeping daughter.