of flying was exhilarating. Soon the air became cool and moist and in the distance, against the dawn sky, I saw a rapidly approaching shoreline. Gathering speed, I shot over the beach and out to sea, rocking and plunging across the waves as if I were riding in some invisible boat.
Eventually I approached another coastline, shrouded in mist, the bare outlines of a beach gleaming wetly, bounded by a low cliff promontory topped with heavy tree cover. I moved to within hailing distance of the shoreline, then wallowed gently above the shadows. I scanned the entire beach area, but could see no movement or activity and all seemed deserted. Then I was steered towards the open beach, skimmed to a landing and found myself sitting on sand and shells, in a few inches of water. The sand inclined gradually from the water to a ridge or rock, covered by trees and scrub, the ridge marking the back boundary of the beach.
I paddled out of the water, on to the sand and looked back up and down the beach. There was no sign of people, nor anything to indicate why I had been brought to this particular place. The only sounds were the cawing of seabirds and the slap of water on shingles.
I walked up the beach towards the ridge, scrambled up the rock and heaved myself on to the ridge top. The ground was covered with dense brambles and beyond that a thick forest of oak, gnarled and old. I knew that I was to walk into the oaks, for there was something waiting for me behind the trees. I pushed through the scrub into the tree cover and, almost immediately, entered a small clearing, To my astonishment there stood, in the centre of the clearing, an enormous stake, thick and tall as a tree, but smooth-sided. The stake was covered with carved symbols running vertically up the sides and I recognized some of them as runes, the mysterious writing of the pagans. My eyes followed the carvings to the top of the stake and then froze in horror, for at the top sat a black horse-head, sightless eyes staring down, nostrils flaring and mouth gaping horribly. I was terrified. I wanted to run, but my body was paralysed, rooted to the patch of God-forsaken ground.
Summoning forth all my will, I forced a scream from my lips and immediately my body came to life. I scrambled backwards, out of the clearing, leaped from the ridge to the beach below and sprinted towards the water. Sand and shells shifted under my feet and I felt as if I was hardly moving. Each time I drove down with my right foot, a sharp pain shot through my shinbone; the jump had twisted my ankle. It took an age to reach the water but at last, with a supreme effort, I plunged desperately into the sea. Before I could even begin to swim, I was swept away from the shore by the invisible force that had borne me here in the first place. Drenched and gasping for breath, I turned to look back at the beach. Above the tree line on the rocky ridge peered the dreaded horse’s head, the eye-hollows seeming to stare directly at me. Suddenly a massive black shadow burst from the head and plunged over the water towards me. The wind tore a scream from my lips as I shot over the water parallel with the shore and then sped out into the open sea.
I kept my eyes shut all the way back until I began to bump and roll over the land, careening over meadows and forest, and had to fling out my arms to maintain my balance.
I awoke flailing about on my leafy mattress, muttering and groaning out loud. I lay still, sweat beading my forehead as I tried to get my bearings. The moon had slunk behind clouds, pitching the forest into darkness. From a distance wolf howls split the night air and echoed mournfully through the treetops. I lay still as a gravestone while the forest fell eerily, ominously silent. Then, almost imperceptibly at first, the whole forest began to tremble. I lifted my head and stared blindly into the surrounding blackness, beyond the fading embers of the fire. I could see nothing. A rumbling noise grew rapidly louder