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if one might materialize out of the shadows.
    Duncan laughed. ‘Woody is her pet
pigeon.’
    ‘But I thought she shot pigeons.’
    Duncan’s deep belly laugh rumbled around
the room. ‘She does if they eat her precious vegetables, but then she does have to
live,’ he said, shrugging philosophically. ‘Woody’s different, though. Fay
tended his broken wing and they seem to have formed a bond. He’s stayed with her ever
since. Follows her around all day, then roosts on the wood pile in the shed outside. When you
failed to respond to her ministering she tied a message to his leg telling me to come quickly as
there was a child in need of strong curatives to bring down the fever.’
    ‘She never said. But then she never says much at
all.’
    ‘She can appear aloof, a bit eccentric
even, but we’re all different. I’m hoping this should make things a bit
easier,’ he said, taking a wooden mug from his pocket and placing it on the hearth.
    ‘Why, that’s beautiful,’ Eliza
exclaimed, marvelling at the way the handle seemed to flow seamlessly from the body of the mug.
Then she noticed the E carved on the front. ‘It’s for me?’
    ‘Of course. Fay can have her own
back,’ he said with a wink. ‘I’ve also made an elixir to purify your blood and
stimulate your appetite.’ He got up, poured some dark liquid into the mug and handed it to
Eliza. She took a sip then grimaced at the bitter taste.
    ‘What’s in this?’ she asked
warily.
    ‘Nature’s bounty, now drink it
up,’ he said, watching until she’d finished every last drop.
    ‘That’s better. Both Fay and I agree
that nature will provide, always supposing you know where to look for it, of course.’
    ‘She said you were a druid – what
does that mean?’
    ‘Druids believe in spiritual powers, that
all nature is part of the great web of life.’
    ‘Like a spider’s web?’ she
asked curiously.
    ‘Exactly,’ he agreed. ‘We
worship the land, the earth, the trees, the stars and the universe. We encourage love and peace
and believe no animal has supremacy over another.’
    Hearing the sincerity in his words, Eliza
remembered the gentleness of his hands as he sponged the fever away.
    ‘But Fay kills animals for their meat,
doesn’t she?’
    ‘Indeed, for man must eat. However, she firmly believes that
if an animal needs to be killed it should be done humanely and every last scrap used out of
respect. And, of course, animals themselves kill to live. ’Tis the cycle of things. But
that’s quite enough for now, my little dryad.’ Eliza looked askance at him.
‘It means female spirit of the tree. With your elfin features, you remind me of
one.’
    ‘Dryad – I like that. Soon I shall
leave here and will be known as Eliza Dryad,’ she declared.
    ‘Don’t be hasty, little un. We are
still in the deadness of January and haven’t reached the moorland turn of the year yet. Up
here in the hills ’tis only at Candlemas next month we mark our midwinter. Hence the old
saying, till Candlemas Day keep half your hay.’
    Eliza looked at him in horror. ‘But
that’s ages yet.’
    He chuckled. ‘Miss Impatience. When the
thaw comes, I’ll show you the woods where I live and tell you more about our way of life.
That’ll be a treat for you to look forward to,’ he winked. ‘Now, though, you
need to rest and I must chop some wood for Fay. She’s an independent old thing and more
than capable, but I like to help, especially when she’s out of the way,’ he said,
grinning as he got to his feet.
    Eliza closed her eyes and dreamed she was a dryad
soaring over trees and lush green meadows. The sun was blazing from an azure sky and she felt
alive with happiness. She was rudely awakened by a sharp rap on the door. Thinking Duncan would
answer, she remained where she was but the knocking persisted. Groggily she got to her feet and
tugged at the rickety wood. A man of middle
years
stood there. He was shabbily, if cleanly, dressed and grinning