The next morning Blodwen rose early, even though it was her day off, and slipped out of the house before Sarah's alarm clock had a chance to herald the new day. As she walked swiftly down their road, she couldn't help but smile slightly. The day was bright, with the early morning freshness of a glorious spring day. But that wasn't all - she intended today to get some answers. After the unsettling events of the night before she was determined to find the old man who had given her the box and get some answers.

A short walk later through the park and she was into the town. Even though it was early, there were still many people about, hurrying to work Blodwen presumed. As she stood in Falkland square, watching the people, Blodwen realised she had no idea where to start looking for her mystery man. She sat down on the edge of a raised flowerbed. For that matter, she wasn't even sure what he had looked like. Blodwen recalled their meeting the previous day:
She had just been walking home, minding her own business, when he'd surprised her and thrust the box into her hands with those words. She'd looked down at what he'd handed to her, and when she looked back up, he had vanished into the crowds.  She'd looked for him, and called out, and asked passers by, but no one had seen anything. Unsure what to else to do, she'd carried on home.

Now Blodwen sat gazing at the sky, trying to recall anything about the man. Had he been short, or average? Maybe he'd been wearing a green coat...And wasn't his hair dark, kinda? She shook her head in frustration and sighed, staring for a second or two at the cerulean frontage of the O2 shop. Abruptly she stood, startling a pigeon pecking at her feet. Just sitting wouldn't solve anything. She did a swift about turn, the satchel at her side swinging out and bumping into her leg, and she set off towards the quay.

Presently her determined attitude faltered and her steps became more meandering as Blodwen began to ponder the box and it's contents. She thought about what questions she would ask the man, if she ever found him again. She became so deep in thought, oblivious to the day heating up, and more people filling the streets, that it wasn't until she almost walked into the shop front that Blodwen came back out into the real world. She looked around to find herself standing somewhere in the Old Town – the cobbled floor and crumbling, soot stained brick gave that away – but beyond that she didn't recognise the place. She stepped back and looked at the shop. It had a name she didn't recognise either. The street around was deserted, there was no sign of a proprietor. Blodwen turned to leave, the cool alleyway giving her chills, but as she did so she heard footsteps pattering, and someone whistling. Curious, she waited, and around the corner came an older woman.

“Oh well, bless me!" she said, startled. But the shock soon melted into a smile, the woman's face seeming to be made of elasticated velvet Blodwen though. “Well now dearie," The woman continued, bustling past Blodwen, "Have you been waiting for me to open? I don't usually get customer quite this early, but no matter. Hang on a sec, and I'll have us in in a jiffy, and a nice cup o' tea inside us both," For all her carefully thought out speeches and questions, Blodwen couldn't think of a single thing to say to this woman, but it didn't seem to matter much; the old lady did enough talking for the both of them. Soon enough though, the old woman had unlocked the door, and shoo-ed Blodwen inside.

As she bustled about – diving into the back to put on the kettle, opening the shop fully, putting on an old fashioned pinny – Blodwen stared around the fanciful shop. It was small, dim and very much crowded by all sorts of odd bits and bobs. On one shelf stood rows of little Buddha, while on another wall hung a rack of muskets and short swords. Tucked away in another corner, Blodwen saw, was a dusty bamboo plant. She was certain that no shop like this existed in Poole, and maybe it had been newly opened, but the dust that covered most everything spoke a different story.

"Right then poppet," said the old woman appearing from the back with two steaming mugs of tea. "Lets have a look-see shall we? What brings you to my store on this fine morn, eh?" The woman put the drink down on the counter top and looked expectantly at Blodwen.
"I..." Blodwen began, then stopped. What exactly was she doing here? And how exactly would she explain what she was after to this strange old woman.
"Come on now lovey, don't be shy. Tell Grandma Jo what brought you out of your house this morn, and what set your feet along the path to my door?" There was something about the way she said it that made Blodwen curious. The woman, Grandma Jo, had a pointed look about her, as though it really wasn't so much of a surprise to see Blodwen at her shop, and that Blodwen's reasons for creeping out of the house where fairly obvious, but needed to be spoken anyway. So Blodwen spoke.
"A dream," she said. "And an encounter. And a velvet lined box with a book and a torc that only I can wear." Blodwen blinked. Now where had that last bit come from? But somehow she knew it was still true.
"Ah," said Grandma Jo, her tone soft. "Well, now. Don't let your tea get cold. If I may see the objects?" Blodwen lifted the box from her satchel and placed it on the counter. Grandma Jo's eyes lit up a little.
"Drink up love," she said, seeming distracted. As Blodwen drank the tea, scalding hot, milky and sweet, Grandma Jo looked at the box, opening it, reverently touching it's contents. She lifted, one by one, the book and the torc and examined the closely before replacing them in their box and closing the lid. Finally she looked up.
"Tell me the circumstances of your birth," Grandma Jo said. Blodwen turned in surprise.
"Pardon?"
"Tell me the circumstances of your birth," Grandma Jo said again, slower.
"Well, uh, I was..." Blodwen stopped. She wasn't sure she was comfortable talking about this with a stranger, but her tongue and her lips seemed to disagree. "I was abandoned as a baby, only a few hours old." Blodwen stopped again, but Grandma Jo made 'continue' noises, so of their own volition her vocal chords twanged themselves. "I was found in the porch at St James' Church with only my name." Grandma Jo nodded, finally seeming satisfied with the answer.
"And how," the old woman, "did you come by these artefacts?"
"Some nut job gave them to me yesterday."
"How do you know only you can wear the torc?" Blodwen hadn't been expecting that.
"Uh..." she dithered. How did she know? Then Blodwen's logical side kicked in. "Because I had the dream, and my sister put it on and it..." she trailed off. Grandma Jo's eyebrows went up.
"Humm?" she said
"It caught fire," Blodwen said quietly.
"I see," said Grandma Jo, and she gave Blodwen an appraising look. "What," she continued softly, "is your name child?"
"Blodwen."
The old lady gazed at the young woman for an indeterminate amount of time, and in that gaze Blodwen felt the years falling from between them, and with those years a host of cares and sorrows and pains of the world until she felt the old woman become like her – a young woman filled with hopes and desires and new found loves.
"Such... Such a beautiful name," Josephine murmured, and the light somehow reached into her shop and the dust motes sparkled. "Flower of the moon..."
"What!" Blodwen blinked, and the years came tumbling back and it was Grandma Jo who stood before her again.
"Your name child," The old woman said. "In the ancient tongue it means flower of the moon, or Moonflower." Bewildered Blodwen took a step back.
"Ancient tongue? What are you talking about?" Grandma Jo frowned.
"The book," she said. "Didn't you read it?
"I looked at it," Blodwen said. "But it's all written in gobbley-gook. I don't understand it." Grandma Jo's frown deepened.
"Take up the book," she commanded. Blodwen stepped forward but hesitated. "Come on girl, it won't bite." Carefully Blodwen lifted the book from it's box and held it.
"Now open it," said Grandma Jo.
"Where?"
"Where you feel is right." Carefully Blodwen let the book fall open on her hands. Grandma Jo continued, "Now read." Blodwen looked at the scratchy penmanship on the page. She knew the letters, but the way they were made into words didn't make sense. It was as though someone had tripped over a sentence, messed up all the letters and had tried to re-arrange them the best they could. Blodwen looked up.
"I can't," she said, and looked up to see Grandma Jo's face seem to crumple.
"But they said..." she mumbled. "The girl will read her destiny, they said." Again, old lady stared at young woman, but this time the years seemed to pile on, crushing them both. Finally though Grandma Jo held out her hand.
"At least let me see what page you picked," she said. Blodwen handed her the book, and Grandma Jo nodded.
"Leastways, you chose the right page." she said, and began to read.
"'And it will come to pass that in the days when all seems calm, one of unknown heritage will emerge to wield our great power. Her name will be a flower of the moon, and on the day of her ascension she will be called to bring her power to bear against one she loves.'"

For a few seconds Blodwen was stupefied. She couldn't reconcile the words with the truth of her existence, there seemed no way they could refer to her. Then fear began to seep in and her feet took a step back. Grandma Jo looked up.
"Blodwen? Wait..." She said, but by now the poor girl's feet had carried her halfway across the shop. Grandma Jo came out from behind the counter. "It's alright Moonflower, you don't have to be frightened..." Blodwen froze, tears sprang in her eyes.
"My name," she said distraught, "is not Moonflower! None of this is true, none of this is real. My name is Blodwen." She looked straight at Grandma Jo. "My name is Blodwen!” she shouted and bolted through the door.

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