Stone Circle sunrise

She waits, she watches, from beneath the shadow of the Pilgrim Stone.

Eyes of fire stare unblinking from within a gunmetal mask. Her body, no longer weathered by the scars of mortal life. It is perhaps an unusual time to be here, but she has never been one for conformity. And anyway, it is a lovely morning for a sunrise. A clear sky, with gentle rays whisking stars away to their cover of sleep.

Someone has been buried here. Recent, too; she knows by the fresh turn of the earth and the flowers that still adorn the ground beneath the Patriarch Stone. Some wilted, others new; it is only a matter of time until she sees for herself who has been laying them here.

And if not, well, then she will simply enjoy the view.