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2

WINTER

The sky was painted in cotton, clouds the colour of candyfloss speckled the pastel sky growing smaller as they disappeared behind the hill; it was as if the great hill in front of him was swallowing up the sky itself. Yellows trickled amongst the pinks and it cast an almost orange glow upon the surroundings. He took a deep breath continuing on his hike, he shouldn't be here. It was a place left alone, one did not walk upon sacred ground like this after all. Especially one like him, someone impure. But it was of great importance.

The further he walked the more he compelled to leave, it didn't seem right and he was guessing that was why many people went back it was that feeling but he doubted those people were as foolish or as desperate as he was. Besides he lacked more conscience than those people had. He cursed a little at the slipperiness thanks to the dew scattered upon blades of grass as the cold of night began to seep in. From his new vantage point on the ground pretty much face first he noticed there was something odd, it was as if there was a glow coming from the hill itself - like some kind of entrance into the mound. He was amazed to find there was as he approached further, it was most hidden by vast stone boulder (which to be honest was a bit of a giveaway) but he managed to slide inside and his breath was pretty much stolen away from him.

Inside it glowed. Roots hung like stalactites from the ceiling capturing the light's colour as it reflected off the silvery roots casting the glow across the inside, the glow came from the centre and it really was as if the hill was swallowing the dusk sky's light. The hill itself was supported by beams of white carved in delicate shapes and in the centre of it all was something which stood out from it all. Metal. The obviously man-made element of it glared out against the nature throughout it all. Fitting, he deemed, after all he was going against the normal path of nature.

Cast in a dark bronze like colour, cogs and other mechanisms intertwined keeping the clockwork turning, the sound of it was overwhelming as he drew close, the constant tick leaving him on edge as he looked over at the Roman numerals which was in such a material to capture the light and glow of the sunset and the large carefully formed hands of the clock moved on. It was amazing the detail really, from the cycle of the moon layered down somewhere and the crafted shapes of rabbits and owls, all spiralling and continuing in perfect timing as the clock went forward. It was a shame to throw a spanner in the works.

▍▍

He might have almost regretted it due to the change that had taken place; the whole scenery had changed in a rush winding him roughly rather than the breathless feeling.

Melancholy clouds garnished in black solemnly walked on in their morbid procession across the ashen sky, watching on wearily downwards on the scene as the tall grey trees' crooked claws reached upwards as if to pull them downwards. Mist lingered on leaving its icy breath across his skin, furling around trees creeping onwards as far as the eye could see. He was lucky really that he had grown used to such a scene otherwise he may have gone mad a while back in his journey, by paranoia if not anything else.

And the sound. The sound was horrendous. Sharp and loud, it carried on and surrounded him from all sides. It was the sound of a murder. He watched it with narrowed eyes, fingers falling to his side to grip onto his clothing wondering how he was to get out of this mess. Crows were clever creatures, but here they were more than that they were the eyes and ears of the forest. The main murder watched him with their beady eyes, talons gripping on the tall gnarled tree branches, watching. Always watching. Overhead wings of midnight swooped through the trees, more crows joining the murder on other trees and branches which they could find; they were practically a mob around him now as if he was the source of all the excitement. The constant cawing was growing more intense as their excitement grew as if waiting eagerly for something yet to happen. There was a sudden burst of intensity as he walked on; he had to remind himself that it wasn't always a call of alarm or a sign of something ominous. But... they were seemly following him and it was hard not to freak out a little. The crows were always disarming but they have never acted like this before around him. The last time he had seen them act like this was when there was a brawl.