1. Beginnings

This was inspired by a damp, ethereal day at Avebury. It has been playing in my mind ever since. I'm sharing the early words here as they form. To be continued...

This is the first episode in a series; you’ll find the following episodes on my homepage as I write them. I don’t have a working title for the series yet, but I’ll update the different parts once one comes to me.

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Eva stepped silently through the early dawn; the dense, rolling mist clinging to her until it felt as though she herself had become one with it. Her faded, grey dress blended in so with the damp air, anyone observing from a distance would have been hard pressed to make her out in the half-light.

Her bare feet brushed through the cool, wet grass, a welcome change from the heat of the summer days leading up to that morning. Ahead of her, the ancient sarsen stones emerged slowly through the gloom, constant and watchful, as she approached.

On reaching the centre of the inner circle, she stopped. Stood. Turned her face upwards. Breathed the air. And waited.

With a barely audible whisper, far above her the mist swirled into the forms of a small flight of snowy doves. Eva raised her hand in greeting; one detached from the group, and glided down. By the time it landed, it had taken the form of a tall, silvery-haired woman.

“You came.”

“We always do. When the time is right.”

“And the time is right?”

“It is. Come.”

And with that, the woman took her hand, and they soared silently up to join the others.

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