Mist creeps in across the low vale. Seven black rabbits hop down through the grasses following the wave of slow white vapour.
It’s time, thinks the Lady of the Hills.
Looking out across the iron waves of the cold ocean, she sees it blur out of the sea-spray mirage. An island, looming large in the wavering vision.
Hy-Brasil is here. And so is He.
Paddy Dobson
16th December 2021