The weather is cold and harsh, here, in the paddock. The winds blow constantly…south-westerlies from the North Atlantic. The rain falls heavy, hardening my body to cold granite.
A thousand years ago, we stood as one. We weathered the storms, the lashings of rain, sleet and snow…we offered protection to the druids…a place for their ceremonies. Then one day a terrible noise was heard…a cry of pain, a rumble. It shook the earth terrifying every living creature within the moor.
The druids are gone now. I stand alone. A sentinel. My only companions, the sheep that graze at my feet.