There are rings in the woods, in the mountains and on the cliffs. They are each of a single piece, neither carved, nor worn. Thin as two fingers wide, some grown with moss and some with vine, they are each a perfect circle of stone. Seven feet across, upright, uncracked and unscarred. They are absolute, and ageless.
If you see one, if you hear joyful clapping, if you hear song, stand fast. If you hear a laugh like water, whispers like wind, falter not. Face those rings. Step lightly backward. Do not trip, don’t stumble, do not look, not once, at your feet. If you feel dry breath on your cheek, if you feel sharp fingers in your hair, face those rings. Step lightly backward. Until their arc is out of sight and the song vanished among the leaves.
Carry cold iron, mutter prayers to your god. Hope that you will live in this world, and repeat these words to travellers yet to come. And if you should stumble, hope that a stone catches your skull before their deft hands.
If you see one, if you hear joyful clapping, if you hear song, stand fast. If you hear a laugh like water, whispers like wind, falter not. Face those rings. Step lightly backward. Do not trip, don’t stumble, do not look, not once, at your feet. If you feel dry breath on your cheek, if you feel sharp fingers in your hair, face those rings. Step lightly backward. Until their arc is out of sight and the song vanished among the leaves.
Carry cold iron, mutter prayers to your god. Hope that you will live in this world, and repeat these words to travellers yet to come. And if you should stumble, hope that a stone catches your skull before their deft hands.
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