The shape of a woman moves from the darkness of the stone's shadow, a cloak of moths surrounding her insubstantiality. She takes her time. She takes Hunter's head between both hands, her fingers melting deeply into the thick fur ruff. Among us walk a race older than time, around us are doorways to other realities and people who are not seen, for who and what they truly are. Such are Hunter and Brighid, Black Annis, Willie and Raven,...