The celebration in the Hidden Glen had barely become a warm memory.
Harris and Oscar were still in their handmade tartan waistcoats, though Harris’s was now missing a button. He’d lost it during a standoff with Barnaby the seagull, all over a well pooped on rock.
Fergus the Far-Sighted stood by the Standing Stones, his eyebrows twitching like nervous caterpillars.
‘The Fog of Silence is spreading!’ he warned. ‘It’s a thick, itchy mist woven by more Grey Shadows.’
‘If it reaches the coast, the Highland cows will forget how to moo, and the sheep will forget to……well, be sheep! They’ll just stand there looking confused’
The celebration in the Hidden Glen had barely become a warm memory.
Harris and Oscar were still in their handmade tartan waistcoats, though Harris’s was now missing a button. He’d lost it during a standoff with Barnaby the seagull, all over a well pooped on rock.
Fergus the Far-Sighted stood by the Standing Stones, his eyebrows twitching like nervous caterpillars.
‘The Fog of Silence is spreading!’ he warned. ‘It’s a thick, itchy mist woven by more Grey Shadows.’
‘If it reaches the coast, the Highland cows will forget how to moo, and the sheep will forget to……well, be sheep! They’ll just stand there looking confused’
