dense mist swept around the stone walls of the Great Hall in the heart of Meath. Eerie and opaque, the mist swirled past the deserted stalls and animal pens of the market place then drifted down a black earth road between higgledy-piggledy rows of thatched huts and past a dozen farmlets where a cacophony of geese and fowl proclaimed the new day. When it reached the common land, it spread wide its glistening folds to enclose the lush field that lay at the feet of the Haunted Hills.Around the base of the hills, the mist condensed and remained to form a volatile barrier. It wasn’t until the last silvery strand had disappeared that the clansfolk dared venture out. They feared not only this supernatural mist but also what might be inside. It was rumoured when the mist was about, the little people of the hills were about, too. The folk of Meath believed just to see the earthwitches was inviting madness or the loss of your soul, for this non-human race existed outside the illusions that bound the mortal world together. One of the daughters of Meath, Danue, at sixteen was of an age to be married. Her father, a clan elder and a once famous bard, had died leaving his wife and only child a wealthy estate. Danue would have been sought after by the young men of her village, but she was thought to be moonstruck. Most didn’t know what to make of a girl who talked to animals as if they were people, who slept with a fox beside her, and - worst of all – who wandered the common land, alone, alongside the sinister mists. As the spring sunshine returned life and colour to gardens and fields, one young man stepped forward asking for Danue to be his life-mate. Initially, her mother and uncle thought him too rough for the gentle, dreamy Danue; however, he had a reputation for being courageous in battle, and his family were respected as ironsmiths. He was so persistent, and so undeterred by Danue's reputation, that her mother and uncle decided to relent. Without further delay, preparations commenced for the wedding. On the morning of her wedding, Danue and two serving maids hurried down to the common land, their long skirts and hair billowing in the spring breeze. Each carried a large wicker basked for flowers to distribute among the children of Meath. Always eager to be near the Haunted Hills, Danue led the way, running through an opening in the honeysuckle hedge out into the wild maybells, poppies and daisies that carpeted the land beneath the hills every spring like magic. While her serving maids gathered armfuls of wild blooms, Danue gazed beyond the mist line at the mysterious hills. The tangled forest growing over the trio of hills prevented any glimpse of the creatures that haunted them. Her companions returned, laughing and teasing. “Now you are to be wedded, your hair should be bound so none other will try to steal you away.” The speaker, Manolaeth, was the same age as her mistress, but as Danue was more petite and childlike, Manolaeth appeared older. Shannah squatted beside her basket and felled a clump of daisies with a single stroke of her dagger. “Your husband will not allow you to wander on your own. Now you must attend to his every whim, whatever that may be.” She grinned and winked. "Not that this would be upsetting to me, mind; he is handsome enough." “I’ll be doing whatever pleases me,” Danue replied. Despite the lush fields and the sun caressing her skin, she shivered. “And I will not be allowing anyone to mistreat my animals or take the place of my fox,” she added for good measure. Her serving maids giggled. “So it will be fox and wolf you’ll be sleeping with then,” Shannah remarked. Manolaeth laughed raucously. Shannah winked and continued in a throaty whisper, “I hear tell from the shepherd girls and the water carriers of Ulster- ” “In Ulster, too!” Manolaeth pretended shock. “…a stream that never runs dry,” Shannah concluded. Throughout this ribald teasing Danue appeared serene, almost disinterested. However, she didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Her animals, the music she played on lute and lyre, and, also, the tales her father told of the ancient race living in the hills were all she knew of the world. But she knew she must accept her fate as an inevitable part of growing up. Her serving maids never feared retribution for such teasing as Danue was as gentle as the dawn. Although they admired her sweetness, they didn’t understand her. Like most others in the village, they felt she was too fey and fanciful and needed bringing down to earth. “Can you not hear it?” Danue whispered, her eyes staring, but unfocused. “’Tis faint and far away, but it must be the music from the people of the hills. I have heard it before. Today it is wild and dancing. Can you not hear it?” Straining to hear the far-away music more clearly, she bunched her hair away from her ears. Shannah’s gaze darted across the hillslopes and back again. “’Tis only the cry of birds and the wind blowing across the haunted trees on the hills.” “You are only thinking you are hearing the music of the earthwitches, because your mind is filled with your father’s tales,” Manolaeth said as she twitched her skirt away from the clutches of a thistle. “What can they know of music? They are as wild as beasts and even more dangerous.” “Wild beasts could not create such beauty. My father always said you can know a man by his music. Listen, only listen, how it calls to your soul,” Danue beseeched them. Manolaeth shuddered and quickly gathered more daisies into her basket. Shannah began to talk loudly, drowning out the faint musical air. Danue sighed. ‘They won’t listen because they have no understanding of what the music is saying.’ She sensed the music was a call to join the dance and to be swept away by its joyful melody and exuberant rhythm. With their baskets overflowing, the serving maids ushered their mistress away from the sweet-smelling common land and back to the more acrid civilization. Manolaeth and Shannah assisted Danue into a long linen tunic and fastened a blue cloak over her shoulders with a silver clasp embossed with fertility runes. A circlet of silver was placed around her high forehead and forget-me-nots and rosebuds were entwined in her auburn hair. “Your father would be proud, Myfanwy,” her mother said, eyes shining with pride and tears, when Danue stood before her. Danue smiled but was filled with dread. Surely, her future would be no better than a caged animal. She would be forever confined to a dark, musty house and have to submit to her husband’s every whim, no matter how cruel or ignoble. Twilight shadows were lengthening as the bridal party rode on horseback, in a stately procession, towards the Great Hall. While exuberantly running alongside, the children of Meath scattered the flower petals gathered earlier in the day. Danue noted that they fell like rain to the ground where they were crushed by horses’ hooves. That evening the Great Hall was filled with the smoky aroma of roasting boar and venison. The flickering lights from the torches lining the stone walls danced with the shadows across the dark wooden beams. Beside the fire, a storyteller wove tales of Celtic warriors and blood-curdling victories. Seated cross-legged on the end of a long table, a younger bard sang bawdy ballads to the accompaniment of music makers playing tympani, mandolin, lutes and tambourine. While dancing continued until the early hours, Danue and her new husband, Dorian, remained seated at the centre of long tables that stretched along three walls. Occasionally, she glanced at him from her eye’s corner. She hardly knew him. Whenever he had visited her estate, his father and her mother did most of the talking. Several times, Danue had noticed him in the village market place. He always seemed to be accompanied by a pack of raucous youths who became subdued whenever she passed by. Normally, Dorian’s hair was the colour of jet, which stood him out among the redheaded Celtic clans. But like many Celtic warriors, before ceremonial occasions and before a battle, he had soaked his hair in water and chalk then scraped it back from his face in jagged peaks. She thought his hair looked so stiff an apple could have been impaled on the ends. She ran her fingers experimentally over his spiky hair. Immediately he turned, grasped her hand and pressed her fingers against his lips. She smiled at his display of gallantry but averted her eyes from his fierce stare. Danue wondered if he would be kind to her. Would he treat her animals with kindness? His movements showed strength and agility, but they were also rough and brutish. If he ever kicked her gentle fox... Her eyes prickled with moisture. Gradually, the torches consumed themselves and the huge fire faded. The inebriated guests stumbled out into the cold night and hurried home before the morning mists invaded their village. For the first time Dorian and Danue were alone. They were to spend their wedding night in the tower room; a king-size round bed covered with sheep skins dominated the room. Dorian, too, had consumed too much wine. He unfastened his cloak of rare velvet green, spread wide his arms, and allowed it to fall onto the stone floor behind him. He slowly circled his new bride like a wolf circling his prey. Danue was backing away as he caught her arm and pulled her against him. Then he held her high and drunkenly spun her around. Danue’s screams echoed down the spiraling stairs of the tower. A forceful ray of sunlight struggled through one of the slit-sized windows. Danue abruptly sat up, pulled a shawl around herself – and remembered. Her husband of eight hours was sprawled beside her. She eased out of bed and crossed the room now speared with shafts of morning light. Some of the fastenings were torn off her tunic, but her cloak covered them. She ran down the stairs and through the dark corridors, only pausing to push open the oaken door of the larder. Her mother was already inside gathering food for the morning meal. “Good morning, daughter!” She beamed over an armload of cheese and eggs and a jug of goat’s milk. “It surprises me to see you departed so soon from the wedding bed.” Danue wrinkled her forehead and asked in a low voice, “Where is Foxy, Mama?” Her mother chuckled. “You just be tending to your fox in the tower. I’ll be caring for your animals today.” Danue picked up a large wicker basket and began filling it with bread and fruit and cooked chicken. A puzzled expression flittered across her mother’s ruddy face. “Is Dorian hungry, then?” Danue spun around to face her. “What could I care? Tell me, Mama, why do they call Men, human, or humane, yet animals, beasts? A horse, or a deer, or a wolf, can be as brave and fierce as a warrior to protect itself or its young; but to those who are kind to them, a wild beast will be as loving and gentle as a kitten. The beasts of the fields and forests are never cruel to those who are weaker - except when they must kill to eat.” Her mother blinked. This was not the response she had expected. “Mama, have you ever noticed the treasures of the common land and the forest? Flowers that sparkle like rubies and sapphires in morning’s new light? Trees that have more strength than a dozen men, but in spring they become as delicate as lace?” Her mother narrowed her eyes. “What are you trying to tell me now?” Danue gnawed her lip. She didn’t like to upset the one person who was always good to her. Finally she said, “Have you ever heard music so lovely that you lost your heart but found your soul.” Back and forth the distressed woman's hand vibrated while she spoke. “No longer are you a child, Danue. ‘Tis the time to put away these childish fancies and put your mind to being a good wife.” Her voice gained in volume with each word. The final one seemed to echo through the quiet house. Danue kissed her mother’s full cheek and then walked swiftly towards the door that opened to the garden. Her mother’s voice followed her. “Where are you going, girl? Don’t be goin’ beyond the walls - the mists may still be high!” Only moments after Danue had hurried past the shadows in the doorway, her mother arrived breathing hard. She spotted her daughter disappearing behind the thorn and sage bushes close to the stables where her animals slept. With a long sigh she turned and headed towards the tower. She wondered if Dorian and her daughter had quarreled. Inside the spacious and cosy barn that housed the poultry and her pets, she shared out the chicken between the cat and the small ginger fox; the bread with the hedgehog and the geese, and made sure her horse had plenty of clean hay and water. She coaxed Foxy into the wicker basket and hurried outside. At the high stone fence separating the estate from the outside world, she flung open a wooden gate. The world outside had disappeared beneath a swirling, swaying, creeping mist. Danue held her breath while watching the silvery cloud drift down the dirt road leading to the common land. She longed to step inside and be swept away to another world. But she was afraid. A black, twitching nose poked through an opening in the basket. Whatever the fox smelt, or sensed, he could not have found it to his liking, because he whined and disappeared to the bottom of the basket. Coming from the house she could hear angry voices: her mother’s and Dorian’s. They would never dare follow her into the mist; it was her only road to freedom. She decided to take it. For some protection, Danue pulled up the hood of her heavy cloak. Then with eyes closed, she stepped into the strange and wonderful mist. Pin-pricks of moisture fell across her hands and the small part of her face that remained uncovered. Danue opened her eyes. The world around her had become ethereal and volatile. She strained to see if anything was nearby but could see nor hear nothing. She walked in the direction that the misted seemed to be swirling, guessing this would take her to the Haunted Hills. From somewhere close by she heard a cock crow. This meant the mist would soon diminish; she hoped she reached the hills before then. Abruptly a hedge of jasmine and honeysuckle loomed up in front. At such close range, this much she could see. The common land was just on the other side. She followed the hedge, searching for the opening. Just as she passed through the gap in the hedge, the mist parted and evaporated. She was standing in a scarlet sea of poppies. She eased down her hood, shook out her hair and joyfully admired the breeze-blown waves of scarlet and green rippling across the field. She sunk into the grass and watched a white butterfly alight onto the tip of a petal and disappear into the red heart of the flower. The fox scrambled out of his cramped quarters and bounded through the long grass. Danue raised her gaze to the hills and the foggy barrier that guarded them. When the sun shone brightly, as it did this day, the mist glittered as if flecked with shards of metal. Like a person bewitched, she walked through the field towards the undulating folds of mist. The little fox frisked about her heels. Now he was free and could smell the tantalizing smells of the sun-warmed field, he was content to follow his mistress anywhere. They disappeared into the glittering cloud. She sensed this mist was not meant to be penetrated. So little sunlight filtered through the dense cloud of dancing particles, she could hardly see around her. The fox sat at her feet, blinking, as if to clear his eyes, and then scurried back out the way they had come. She called after him and he reluctantly returned. Danue picked him up and tucked him inside her cloak. There was very little vegetation growing around her feet; the heavy mist prevented everything but grassy weeds from growing. She shivered and moved further into the fog. Disorientated, she could only guess which direction to take. Soon the mist thinned allowing a little daylight to shine through. They plunged out into the full morning light. Once again she stood on the common land. Danue wondered if the mists were alive and had tricked her. She also considered going home. But only for a moment. A lovely sound came from the other side of the mists. It was the music of the people of the hills. A wind harp, a flute, a lyre and the chiming of bells played the sweetest melody she had ever heard. Danue called into the mist: “I am Danue of the Tuatha de Danaan. I mean you no harm; I am an admirer of your people. It is my desire to visit your kingdom – if I may.” A man’s laughter rang through the mist that separated them. Danue jumped. Whoever it was sounded close by. Then there came a voice: strong, resonant and speaking an old-fashioned form of Gaelic. “Turn sideways to the sun, brave lady, and follow the hues in their rainbow order. May you fare well in your quest.” Danue could hardly believe that one of the elusive hill folk had actually spoken to her. And in a manner more courteous than a servant – well, any of her servants, anyway. But what did he mean? Was it a riddle of some kind? She wanted to call out and ask for an explanation; but, perhaps it was some kind of test to discover her mettle. Turn sideways to the sun, he had said. She peered up at the sun that had not long ago cleared the hilltops. She turned her profile to the face of the sun and stepped sideways into the mist. However, after wondering around blindly, she ended up on the common land once more. The fox had become impatient with all this and had left to investigate invisible trails left by rabbits and field mice. She watched her beloved fox leaping high and landing upon a prey, either real or imagined. He had always been with her; had never experienced an open field or forest; he was obviously having the time of his life. Danue hesitated. She could leave him to his fun while she tried to find the way through the mist. Then she would return for him. He would be safe there. Few people visited the common lands these days and never this close to the mist. She again faced the undulating folds of magic and tried to fathom the meaning of turn sideways to the sun. An idea came to her. She had always tried to cross through the mist in a straight line. What if she followed the mist along the edge where it was thinnest and where the sun still penetrated? In doing so, she would be walking sideways to the sun. Thus far, she had walked straight ahead into the mist; but, this time, she turned left when just inside. After walking along the mist’s edge for awhile, she noticed a pinkish glow to her right. As she moved nearer, the glowing mist became a vibrant red. All shades of red swirled past. The moisture momentarily stained her skin and garments and then vanished. Danue shivered with excitement. It was the little people’s magic at work. Follow the hues in rainbow order, the voice had also told her. Was this a riddle? No, the previous clue was meant to be taken literally, and, so, probably was this. She moved deeper into the mist. The red gradually became purple, and further away, on her right, the mist was turning orange. Which direction should she choose - through the purple mist in front, or through the orange mist on the left? The words, Follow the hues in rainbow order, began to make sense. Danue closed her eyes and tried visualizing a rainbow. Red was the first colour at the top of the arch, then came orange, then yellow, then green, then blue and then, last of all, purple. She chose to follow a strand of orange mist that floated lazily past until she stood in a rich, dreamy world of tangerine. Where the mist turned into the paler shade of yellow, Danue followed feeling she had entered a land of pure sunshine and buttercups and sunflowers. Green, in ever-increasing shades of richness, called her to follow on the left until she plunged into a blue so vibrant that it would leave the sky looking wan and lifeless. A delicate mauve and then a deep lavender purple swirled and mushroomed before her. The purplish mist began to thin and fade and sunlight began filtering through. Danue stepped outside the mist and entered a hillside grove of lilac trees and giant oaks. Their branches were an explosion of mauve, purple and white flowers. The blossoms of the lilac and the wisteria vines, which clung to branches and wound around tree trunks, cascaded everywhere. The air she breathed was filled with the most exquisite of fragrances. The little people of the hills must understand the secrets of nature, Danue thought, thrilled she had at last found the way to their forbidden land. After running her hand over the trunk of a heavily-laden lilac tree, Danue climbed a little way up the hill. There was so much to see - and hear. The singing of birds surrounded her. She pivoted around on her toes trying to take everything in. From somewhere close-by came the sound of tumbling water. She walked beneath an archway of red-gold leaves and then stepped out into a tangle of thorny, climbing roses. These were roses of the strangest hues Danue had ever seen: deep green, delicate blue and pinkish lavender. She lifted her skirt and cloak away from their thorny tendrils and carefully stepped up to a deep, green pool that was fed by a cascade of water falling down the hillside. Smooth, moss-covered rocks lay beneath the waterfall and the pool. Enchanted, Danue bent down beside the pool's rocky border. Rose briars trailed tendrils and blossoms into water that looked shimmery and lustrous on the surface, yet deep and mysterious below. She cupped the strange liquid into her hands and cautiously took a sip. It tasted wonderful. The surface of the pool suddenly parted as a small head popped up from below - and then another. Danue cried out and scrambled backwards. Not only was she alarmed by the sudden appearance of the two earthwitches, but also by their grotesque appearance. Their faces were too broad; their mouths comically wide, their all-black eyes were slanted and mischievous. She noted their ears, as tapering as those of her fox, protruding between unruly wisps of black hair. Water streamed down the small faces and eyes that stared at Danue with as much interest as she gave them. Danue took a breath, smiled nervously, and said, "Hello." This was all the magic it took to charm these earthwithes, apparently. In a blink, the boy and girl deftly sprung from the pool and stood beside Danue. The girl-child timidly took Danue's hand into her cool, brown one. She never took her eyes from Danue for a moment. In one graceful motion, the boy sunk down beside them with legs crossed and folded beneath him. He glanced up at Danue through long, black eye-lashes and then casually winked. Danue was lost for words as she stared at them. Their tiny bodies were as mis-shapen as their faces. Beneath the barest minimum of amber-brown cloth, Danue could see arms and legs that were impossibly thin, though rather long in proportion to their androgynous torsos. These were no like no human children she had ever seen, and, yet, they possessed the shyness and zest of children. However, their demeanour and poise indicated a gentility and maturity beyond human adults. Danue warmed to them as she began to sense an inner beauty that made their exterior appear beautiful, too. “Good morror, daughter of Man,” said a familiar voice. She whipped around and stared into the black, sparkling eyes of a little man about three and a half feet tall. He was obviously older than the other three: his shape was more rotund and his manner less shy. He was dressed in green and brown tight-fitting clothing, the like of which she had never seen. On his head he wore a tall, green top hat. “’Tis a brave girl you are to be journeying so far, so early and so alone,” he said in a charming manner. Danue thought how strange it was for such a beautiful, rich voice to be coming from such an ugly little man. “Thank you,” she stammered. Danue could only gather her thoughts enough to ask the obvious, “Are you the people of the hills?” The girl-child said sweetly in a high, childlike voice, “We, the Perianne, welcome you here, dear blue lady.” The little girl reached up and touched Danue's face. Danue couldn’t resist hugging her thin, tiny body. She reflected that some of the people of Meath called her the Blue Lady because she often wore that colour. The child laughed – such a beautiful sound. “Why have you come?” asked the little man of the Perianne. “I sometimes can hear your music – only faintly – but enough to know it surpasses any music from my world. I wanted to meet the ones who could make such enchantment,” Danue replied, wondering if she should mention that she wanted to her stay to become permanent. “I am pleased you find our music to your liking,” he said and smiled warmly. “But there is nothing magical to it. We do not labor under the burdens of mortal man, and hence, we can bring much more joy to everything we do. This may seem like magic to those who believe sadness and hopelessness to be their lot in life.” Danue opened her mouth to reply but found no suitable words. Could he know her thoughts? “Our lives are hard,” she finally said. “’It is but an illusion,” he said dismissively. Danue looked puzzled. “As you create music, so you can create your future,” he explained. Danue's stare followed him as he turned and began to pick several of the roses. She glanced over to where the mists once swirled. They had completely disappeared. Her view of the common lands was now only impeded by the trees. Never had the mists guarding the hills diminished in the slightest before. The tiny girl beside her still held Danue's increasingly hot and moist hand inside her cool one. The boy grasped Danue's other hand. She felt happier than she could ever remember. Danue silently marvelled at the majesty of a gigantic oak tree that stood not far away and admired its large star-shaped leaves all the colours of autumn. She also wondered where the pathway that wound its way around the oak could lead. No human had ever glimpsed the far side of the Haunted Hills. “What is on the other side of your hills?” she asked when the little man had returned to her. “Riches and beauty beyond human dreams,” he replied. His eyes of jet gleamed as if they were looking upon those riches that very moment. “I would like to see,” Danue said and glanced longingly to where the pathway disappeared into the trees. “Riches and beauty are in the mind of the beholder,” he said slowly, adding, “They are here, before you, for the taking.” “Please take me to the far side of the hills,” Danue pleaded. “I have heard many tales of the wonders there. I would so like to see for myself. ” “What do you wish for most?” the little man asked casually. Danue blinked at this abrupt change in conversation. He smiled at her encouragingly; his gaze seeming to penetrate into her innermost depths. She stared into his dark, though shiny, slanted eyes. There was such vitality coming from those eyes…more than intelligence… it was a confidence in absolute knowing. While the eyes of the dwarfish man contained infinite wisdom, his demeanour suggested unlimited humility and kindness. Like the eflish children, he, too, became beautiful to gaze upon. For a moment, Danue forgot the question. The man waited patiently and his stare softened slightly. She shook her head to clear her mind. "Umm, I wish…” Danue paused thinking of all the things she had ever wished for. She smiled, remembering. “When I was a child, I wished I could play music for others as well as my father: music that was lively and filled with sunshine, or haunting and filled with shadow and moonlight. Like your music is. I so wish I could lighten people's hearts with stories set to this music as he did.” “Then there are no riches beyond for you,” the little man said firmly. Danue sighed. He was too crafty for her. He held out a pale blue rose so fragile that sunlight shone through its petals.. “Why did you come here?” he asked. Danue replied more to the rose than him. “The future with my own people seems impossible.” “A blue rose is considered impossible in your world,” he said, “But see? It is not so impossible here. We believe in such things and, therefore, can attain them.” Danue looked puzzled. “It is beautiful,” she said. “The impossible only has to be persued and it will be attained,” he explained. “The thorns must be forgotten.” Danue shrugged and sighed. “For you, the impossible is future happiness.” “Not if I stay here - with you,” she replied wistfully, her head titled to one side. She was beginning to realise where this was leading. “Your wish, is to create the magic of music. And you will create this music…a music that has never been heard by any of your kind. Believe…have faith in your wishes.” He added, slowly and emphatically, “I know in your world faith is rare, but its power still exists.” Then he held out the other rose he held. This one was as richly green as a shamrock. “Behold the rarest rose in the world," he announced, holding it out for her to admire. “It is your destiny to persue the impossible. ” Then he smiled warmly and again his eyes lit up as if fired by some inner power . Danue wondered how she could have ever thought him ugly. “And persue it, you must, for it is only then…” He paused and began twirling the green and blue roses in his fingers until they because a single blur of colour. “…you will find the most beautiful.” He handed her a golden rose that had emerged from the joining of the other two. Danue gasped, laughed and held the rich bloom to her nose. It smelt as exquisite as it looked. “It’s pure sunlight,” she said, smiling up at him. “Somehow it reminds me of your music.” “Your child,” the little man spoke the words carefully, “will be the most beautiful. With his music, he will bring sunshine to your people. With his stories, he will bring the mysteries of moonlight and the deeper things. And he will teach that the unknown is not always to be feared…that it is not always evil. He will create powerful stories about my folk that will live on even after we have departed. The human race will have something to remember for the time when our ways are more understood and valued. But you will be the one who provide the inspiration.” He squatted in front of her and said, gently, in his beautiful voice, “Do not be afraid of the seemingly impossible, because now you know the riches and beauty it will bring.” “I never want to go back there,” she whispered. He reached inside his tunic jacket and pulled out a tiny lyre. However, the sound the lyre produced wasn't in proportion to its size. Even when merely shook, the strings sang out a rich, rippling melody. “Would you like to be hearing some music?” he asked. Danue suddenly felt emotional. She blinked to clear her eyes of moisture, smiled and nodded. “Remember it and teach it to your son,” he gently said. While he stroked the strings of the lyre, the children joined in by singing harmonies. From behind a nearby rock, the boy retrieved a bunch of bells, round and tubular, and struck the bells with a twig. The overall sound of the song was haunting, yet exhilarating. The children sang in a language unfamiliar to Danue; yet, somehow she understood that they sang of another place inside a hollow hill where old age, illness and sorrow never visited. The sound of horses galloping towards the hills made her glance abruptly toward the common lands. Her fox! She sprung to her feet and peered between the trees. They were two men who looked very like her new husband and uncle. The little man and the children saw the approaching men and their music faded like a sigh of regret. The children hugged Danue, together and in turn, before dancing away between the trees and bushes of the hills. The little man seemed to fade away like the music. Danue watched as Dorian abruptly reined in his horse, bent over and scooped something off the ground. It was Foxy! She ran down to the common land, her only thought to protect the little fox. As Dorian rode closer, Danue saw two of the rosebuds she had worn in her hair the day before pinned onto his rich green cloak. “I had to come,” his smile contained an apology, “I was worried...about Foxy' He looked amused rather than annoyed. It was only then Danue noticed how gently he was cradling the fox in his arms. Also, for the first time, she noticed how effortlessly he sat tall and straight in the saddle. She was distracted by the music of a lyre coming from a long way off. She spun around. Sparkling silver mist was again swirling around the base of the hills making them look as impenetrable as ever. |
This story and music, Children Lost, were by your Enchantress, Wendy Maree. Hope you enjoyed them!
NEXT: MIDSUMMER NIGHT SHIFT
NEXT: THE TAIL OF THE SEA WITCH
NEXT: DIVE INTO RAPTURE
