The visit back to the Hidden Glen had been a roaring success, but perhaps it was a little too roaring. Harris stood in the middle of a misty glen, putting on his wooden shoes. He no longer felt like a ‘wobbly myth,’ but he did feel like he was standing on top of a wobbly drum. He set off across the Highlands ready for a new adventure.
Beside him. Oscar was proudly testing a new note on his bagpipes.
Ever since they reignited the Heart-Stones, the magic of the North had returned with a low, musical hum that seemed to harmonise perfectly with Oscar’s drones. The problem was that every time Oscar hit a high B-flat, the nearby ruins of an ancient castle began to shed stones like a moulting sheep.
‘Oscar, stop!’ Harris cried, his saucer eyes reflecting a falling gargoyle. ‘The Highlands are singing so loud that the castles are literally losing their marbles!’
Oscar puffed out his cheeks, adjusting his tartan waistcoat, which was stuffed with spare reeds and a fresh jar of Mairi’s clover honey. ‘It’s not my fault, Harris! Fergus said we found the ‘rhythm of the North’. I’m just giving the rhythm a little extra volume!’
Suddenly, a ‘cold silver light’ flashed from the nearby castle turrets.
The visit back to the Hidden Glen had been a roaring success, but perhaps it was a little too roaring. Harris stood in the middle of a misty glen, putting on his wooden shoes. He no longer felt like a ‘wobbly myth,’ but he did feel like he was standing on top of a wobbly drum. He set off across the Highlands ready for a new adventure.
Beside him. Oscar was proudly testing a new note on his bagpipes.
Ever since they reignited the Heart-Stones, the magic of the North had returned with a low, musical hum that seemed to harmonise perfectly with Oscar’s drones. The problem was that every time Oscar hit a high B-flat, the nearby ruins of an ancient castle began to shed stones like a moulting sheep.
‘Oscar, stop!’ Harris cried, his saucer eyes reflecting a falling gargoyle. ‘The Highlands are singing so loud that the castles are literally losing their marbles!’
Oscar puffed out his cheeks, adjusting his tartan waistcoat, which was stuffed with spare reeds and a fresh jar of Mairi’s clover honey. ‘It’s not my fault, Harris! Fergus said we found the ‘rhythm of the North’. I’m just giving the rhythm a little extra volume!’
Suddenly, a ‘cold silver light’ flashed from the nearby castle turrets.
