He surfaced out of a dream in which he floated at night through drifting mist, the water of the lake lapping gently below his small boat. He woke with a shiver to find that he was still in Conrad’s fishing lodge, the lake burnished with orange as the sun began to set. A swirling flight of dark birds crowded the sky above the heart of the wood. ‘We should go back,’ the old man said urgently. He looked very anxious. ‘You’ve been asleep all day.’ ‘All day?’ ‘I couldn’t wake you. We must get away from here.’ Martin was shocked by what he heard, and was still disturbed by Conrad’s tale, and the revelation of the cause of Sebastian’s death. He stood stiffly, groaning as he unlocked his knees. Conrad laughed sympathetically and held his arm, then offered one of his staves for support. They returned to the iron-roofed shack and the bosker shed his overcoat and sheepskin jacket, stoked up the fire before uncorking a flagon of cider brandy. Martin sipped the potent drink with circumspection, not knowing who might have brewed it.
What do You think about Merlin's Wood (Mythago Wood)?
