Stirring and suspenseful words from Stuart France.
“…Those who waited with her, high on the hill had prepared her.
She had been bathed in the sacred spring that ran from the chalk below this place, winding as a clear stream into the valley.
There was a shallow pool beneath the trees.
She could not see it in the half light, but she knew its course, and felt for it in her mind and body.
She had not eaten, only drunk of herbs steeped in its water for three days.
She was marked with ochre and dressed in a clean robe.
She heard them stand to greet the sun, but did not turn to the east with them.
She watched them through other senses, familiar with the rite, seeking to feel herself within the land and sky.
She saw her shadow on the grass as the sun rose, gilding the mists.
It was time.
Below the summit…
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