W alking for miles through the dense forest that covers the land.
Mist swirls around, the air is cold and clammy.
Yet in the murkiness you sense a presence, that draws you towards it - a faint breath of Spring in the midst of winter. T ired, you stumble on a clearing in the trees, the mist dispels and the pale light of the low winter sun breaks through. In the clearing before you standing stones nestle against the trees that surround the clearing, and a soft air of magic suffuses the air. The wind and the rain of ages past, has carved fantastic patterns on the stones. In the stillness of the stones, an ermine dances in the rays of the winter sun.