Night drawing in, though the nights were shorter. Tor seemed to exist in a near permanent, exalted form of daylight. The mountain tops shone in moonlight; in the daytime they seemed beacons. There was never any wind.
The rook was there again, and it was telling him another story, about a wolf and a boy, and the wolf and the boy were mixed up together so …
Keep reading with a 7-day free trial
Subscribe to Womack's Wanderings to keep reading this post and get 7 days of free access to the full post archives.