Twa’ Ravens, black as a velvet midnight orbit the pyramidal Sgùrr an Fheadain, skrying the chasm that rends the land in two.
Waves of morrain carry the horned language of millennia, scented by thunderstorm.
Arterial broods slumber beneath the reddening depths of the Fairy Pools and sing the spells of times to come, weaving the sigils of birth and death on the scrabble of gabbro and granite.
Hoary, night winged prophets from Underworld kingdoms, they conjure and call forth the flames of life.
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