Stone Circle gravo

A ranger haunts the Seer Stones.

So anticipated now is his scarcity, the image of him is a consolation of the wait: like a long cold winter thawing to the advent of Spring. Stranger it would be to her if he chose to stay.

She will strain to her paws and move out into the fields to meet him, jowls laden for the smell of fish. Her tail beats but it’s carefully she will eye him.

“How was the journey?” And then: "How are you?"

“I will call for Gunnar. He is a father now. Four cubs. Can you believe it?” She informs, a bit of bright news. Perhaps she will call for Skáld too, would he like to visit again with the eagle?

A retch of words and ideas. It is in a naive bid to fill this growing void. She remembers their last conversation.

“Let me help.” She lifts a fur.