Cold reality broke the dream, and a spatter of rain washed my face.
“Ellen!” Jock stood in front of me, his long, saturnine face concerned. “They nearly took you, then.”
I nodded, listening to the branches of the rowan above my head. “Nearly,” I said. “It was so beautiful that I wanted to remain there forever.”
“They are deceivers,” Jock said. “They trick you. They’ll promise you the earth and give you a handful of dirt, show you rich food and feed you dry leaves and heather, smile and steal your soul.”
“How do you know?” I asked.
“I’ve been there, remember?” Jock shook me roughly.
“How long was I away for?”
Jock shook his head. “You can’t think of time. Their concept of time is not the same as ours; it’s not linear; it does not move in straight lines as we do.”
I shook my head. “I
